ArchivedLogs:Sleepover

Sleepover
Dramatis Personae Jax, Micah, Shane	22 June 2014 Sometimes you can't stay too close to Dai.
Location <NYC> {Lighthaus} - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
Bright and sunny-light, this house lives up to its name. With a plethora of enormous windows flooding the place with light and an open layout, the ground floor feels more spacious than it is. The small entryway has a closet space for shoes and coats, and doors at either side leading to the neighboring apartments. Past this it opens straight into the living room, a wide expanse of space bordered on one side by a curved set of stairs leading up (with colourful glass tiling on the risers between each stair) and next to these, the half-wall into the kitchen. Cool pale tile underfoot and many dark cabinets with a small walk-in pantry, plentiful custom granite countertops, black and speckled faintly with rainbowy flecks, lots of hanging space overhead for cookware, a large double-oven. There's a strip of rather detailed mosaic-work in the kitchen backsplash, colourful glass tiling depicting strange fantastical herbs and small faeries and firelizards darting among them. In back of the kitchen, a door opens up to a small sunroom, wide and two-stories high with a balcony overlook from the second floor; two of the windows here have cushioned windowseats, and there's a wealth of herbs growing in hanging pots and small window-boxes. The back wall of the living room is nearly entirely dominated by windows, huge and allowing a view of the river beyond with bench windowseats lining the sills. There are plentiful paintings on the wall, surreal and fantasy-inspired, mostly in shades of blacks greys with bright bursts of colour that are mirrored in the decor -- monochrome upholstery on the couch and armchair but colourful throw-pillows, black and white huge corduroy beanbags (and one large red doggie-bed,) soft throw rugs also in mostly black and white with splashes of rainbow woven in. The hand-built furniture -- tall chairs by the kitchen/living room counter, dining table and chairs in the kitchen, low coffee table in the living room -- has been hand-painted as well, black with bursts of colourful abstract designs. Along the living room's other wall, doors branch off to a full bathroom -- in white and deep blue with one wall of the shower done in colourful intricate mosaic too, an underwater scene full of strange mythical water-creatures; tiny water-sprites have been interspersed at random points in the rest of the wall tiles, as well. There's a small studio space beside the bathroom, large windows as well and a gratuitous amount of shelving and cabinets along the walls; this room has very /little/ colour in it, just white walls and black furnishing. It's rather late at night; Spence has been put to bed upstairs but down here Jax is winding down after a long day, church and a few appointments at the studio and a long evening over at Lucien's on the complicated anniversary of Matt's not-actually death. He's just finished with a shower, dressed now in soft peacock-blue yoga pants and no shirt, laptop and drawing tablet tucked beneath his arm and a tub of lotion in his hand as he wanders downstairs again. There's still an energy to him, a very faint shimmer against his skin -- as long as the days are this time of year, sleep doesn't come easy if it comes at all. Just a lot of /wired/, a lot of /bounce/. A lot of /headache/, too, it's not /entirely/ a pleasant sort of energy, as much agitation as it is exuberance, more often than not. His tattoos shift against his skin, moving simply to have somewhere to /put/ the excess. Micah is off in the kitchen, doing what he usually does after cleaning up and settling in for the night: making tea. The lavender-mint smell is both expected and obviously present, freshly-brewed and dispensed into two mugs. His hair is dried into spikes from his shower earlier, his dress fully in pajama mode with a royal purple T-shirt over a pair of black pajama pants with the Mane Six's cutie marks dotting them. He makes his way over to collapse on the (new!) couch, cradling one mug and setting the other nearby until Jax makes his way down. Jax heads over to settle down onto the couch beside Micah, kneeling on the cushion and nestling in against the other man's side. He sets his computer aside on the floor for now, tucking his head against the other man's lap and closing his eyes as he takes his mug. "I think someone's poundin' nails into my temple," is the first thing he says to Micah, frowning down into his mug. The second thing, though, is, "I kind of sneakily been workin' with Desi on gettin' Luci back into. Into. Into his. Um. Actor's. Union. Thing. It's hard. They're picky." Creepsneakcreep. Okay, actually it's more like slink. Shane is being slinky today, oozing his way through the door that connects their houses. He is /also/ dressed for bed, in that he isn't, actually, dressed; he possibly /has/ been in his pool in that he is also very /damp/, cool-wet where he leaves a trail of water on Jax and Micah's nice clean floors. In contrast to Jax he has very /little/ energy to him, just a looow eeling that he takes over to the others. He pours himself up onto the couch, draping himself (cool-wet and all) across both their laps in a boneless face-down puddle, gills slowly working open and closed. Micah sips from his mug and sets it aside, fingertips moving straightaway to massage at Jax's scalp and temples. "That's a rude thing t'do. If they got a hankerin' for hammerin' they could be useful an' help finish up the furniture we ain't finished yet. Ain't like we're lackin' for things t'hammer." He leans in, pressing a butterfly-light kiss to Jax's forehead. "Has your blood sugar an' all gotten more stable yet?" Rub. Rubrub. "S'good of you t'be workin' on. He should actually get a chance t'/do/ what he's been wantin' for so long. He always talks like it's silly or crazy for 'im t'try." Hazel eyes track to the door when it opens, following the figure through the room. His brows dip slightly in concern at Shane's quiet and puddling. "Are you okay, hon?" The soft moan Jax breathes out at this massaging would be nearly orgasmic if it weren't just so /relieved/; he melts into the touch gratefully, tucking the tub of lotion beside him on the couch and sipping at his own tea. "Yeah. Yeah, m'sugar everything's. Evened out. Summer's just hard I. I /can't/ use up energy as fast as I take it it kinda. Burns me up." He takes small sips of the tea, just enjoying the massaging. "Yeah, he -- he really /should/, he -- I /know/ he can sing an' -- Desi says he done /Broadway/ afore even he jus'. He should try, he. I don't know. I think with Matt it --" He trails off as Shane approaches, eye cracking open and his words slipping into quiet. One hand drops off the cup, his fingers fiercely hot, partly from the tea but mostly from the overabundance of energy within him -- his /lap/ is excessively hot, too, where Shane drapes. His fingers trail gently against Shane's gills, drawing down against the boy's side. "Hey, honey-honey. Long day?" In answer to this there's just a small rumble from Shane, low and caught halfway between growl and purr. He presses slightly into the petting against his gills, slowly nuzzling his cheek against Micah's leg. "... wanted hugs," he finally answers. "Dai kicked me out. M'fine. B's working. No hugs there. 're /you/ okay?" "Might need t'schedule a nightly lights-show in the garden or somethin'. Just t'get you on a more even keel," Micah suggests, not quitting in his rubbing. "I think he's just...scared. Of actually havin' what he wants, work or otherwise. Don't think he's /had/ a lotta that in his life. Gets t'where you're more afraid of tryin' for things 'cause they're just gonna get taken away again. An'...yeah. Might could be he don't wanna /be/ happy 'til Matt's out." Shane's response /does/ manage to pause the headrubs so that he can work the teen up into a hug, though it's a bit awkward to pull off given everyone's relative positions. "Dai kicked you out like...he wasn't available for hugs right now? Or like you guys had a fight?" "Jus' means we gotta get Matt out. Let 'em /all/ be happy t'gether. I think he'll let himself be happy when he's got his family back safe." Jax's brow creases deep, and Shane's answer draws the petting from a light trace to a firmer one, hand pressing in a slow run down the full stretch of Shane's gills. "He aright? I'm good, yeah. Jus' windin' down. You want t'stay here tonight, sweetie?" "Oh no -- no. He's fine, /we're/ fine --" Shane breaks off, gills pressing flat beneath the stroke and his eyes squeezing shut, pleased, as he melts into the touch. He wriggles up properly into Micah's hug, wriggling more upright to sit a little more properly on his father's lap. He nuzzles up against Micah's neck, his gills fluttering open again slowly. "No fight. He's kind of in a bad mood. He's not -- very safe when he's in a bad mood. For anyone. But for me more than most people. Kind of put /me/ in a --" His gills flutter again. "He kicked me /out/." This time he sounds just a little petulant about it. "That'd be a good day," Micah replies to Jax's plan with a smile that has a sadness to it. "Sounds like he prob'ly was tryin' t'protect you from his ability, sugar. Ain't nothin' personal." His arms wrap around Shane once the boy is in his lap and easier to reach, fingers petting down whatever gills they can access. "S'there anythin' t'be done for 'im when he's like that? Maybe y'could video chat with 'im 'bout it or somethin'. Just not bein' in his immediate presence." "I'm sure he didn't -- wasn't like. Kickin' you /out/, jus'. Makin' sure he wasn't hurtin' you or nothin'." Jax settles back in at Micah's side with his tea, sipping at it slowly as the backs of his knuckles continue to brush down against Shane's side. "Y'can use my computer if y'want. T'call at him. Check in, if he needs someone t'talk to. You think B's gonna needa stay over here t'night too?" Shane doesn't answer immediately, still nuzzling in against Micah's neck. A small happier hum purrs up in his throat, gills pressing flat beneath the others' petting. "Yeah," he finally murmurs, "I'll call him. Later. B should probably. Stay here, too." His arms slide around Micah, lips brushing to Micah's collarbone as he nestles closer. "S'in the workshop. Should maybe. Tell hir." Micah nestles his shoulder up against Jax, though his arms and hands both are a little occupied with Upset Kid, currently. "Y'can both stay. We got the guest room...well, not very set up yet. There's a mattress. An' linens. The furniture in there ain't exactly been a /priority/ on the gettin' made list. Ain't got pools set up over here, though, sorry, hon." The apology comes in Micah's poorly-accented Vietnamese. "Should just send B a text if he's still at the shop, then. He gets where he won't pay attention t'much. Text'll be sittin' an' waitin' for 'im whenever he remembers the rest of the world exists." "We ain't even got our /own/ room made up with furniture really," Jax says with a tiny giggle. "But yeah y'all are welcome over here. Only got the upstairs bathroom in workin' order. Gonna be another couple days workin' on the one down here." His nose wrinkles up in an absently apologetic expression, fingers still trailing against Shane's gills as he snuggles back in against Micah. "/Is/ gettin' proper late though gosh, maybe I should run by an' /remind/ B there's a rest'a the world. S'work in the mornin'." He frowns over at Shane. "/You/ got work mad early, kiddo. Maybe should call Dai an' get t'bed." "Ze," Shane corrects in absent murmur. His lips press to Micah's collarbone again, then his neck. "Can't I stay in your room?" He nuzzles in against Micah's neck once more, lips closing gently against the skin afterwards. "B forgets about the world a /long/ time sometimes." "Mmn." Micah winces slightly at the correction. "Been so much better 'bout rememberin' lately. Do better when ze's actually /here/. Fall into old habits talkin' /'bout/ hir when ze's not in the room." He chuckles along with Jax's giggle. "Yeah, s'gonna be awhile 'til the whole place is put t'gether. Got the dinin' room done. An' the livin' room's fair finished, though that's mostly 'cause we bought the couch an' bean bags an' all. I still need t'make some end tables. Coffee table's near done." As opposed to the pair of crates serving the purpose for the time being. "It is kinda late on a 'work night'. Wonder if ze's got hir ringer off? Could try call-callin' an' see if ze picks up." A small sigh answers Shane's question. "Maybe. If we can't get B t'come t'bed. For a little 'til ze's back, then y'gotta move t'the other room. /Also/ y'need t'borrow some PJ's, kiddo, an'..." His muscles tense slightly at the pull of the teen's lips. "Honey, y'know y'can't. Do that. Right?" Jax's brow creases, teeth dragging over his lips. He taps his fingers lightly against Shane's shoulders, patting somewhat insistently to beckon the boy up. "C'mon, pup. S'find you some clothes an' y'can call Dai while I check on B, hm? You know that's a line your Ba ain't comfortable with. You're always welcome t'all the hugs you can /stand/ over here but you need t'remember where our boundaries are, mmm?" "Rrr." It's a purr rather than a grumble, nuzzling in against Micah's neck with another low rumble before Shane pulls his head away. "... Oh. right. 'kay." He blinks, a little sleepy-eyed, at both the men's reminders, squeezing Micah a little closer but then sliding down off his lap with a stifled yawn. He scoops Jax's laptop off the floor, curling it up against his chest. "Your clothes are all gonna be huge on me. Butokay." With a shrug, he ambles off towards the stairs ahead of the others. “They will be. But super-big clothes is comfy for sleepin',” Micah assures. He gives Shane one last hug once the boy's /mouth/ releases. “I'm sure we'll get B back an' y'all can be snugglin' over in the guest room soon enough. Love you, hon.” Once the boy is off, Micah collects his tea in one hand and Jax in the other arm. “Think I owe you finishin' a massage 'fore sleep happens. Gotta do somethin' 'bout the brain-hammers.” At which point he leads Jax upstairs.