ArchivedLogs:The Small Hours

The Small Hours
Plus mini Q&A session...
Dramatis Personae Jackson, Micah	13 April 2013 Jax and Micah have middle of the night rooftop dates.
Location <NYC> Village Lofts - Rooftop - East Village
It tends to be windy, up here, but the presence of plastic table and folding chairs suggests that nevertheless building residents occasionally make their way out to this rooftop. With a good view of Tompkins Square Park less than a block away it's a good spot for city-watching. There's a railing around the edge, though it might be possible (if /unwise/) to climb over it to the narrow concrete ledges beyond and from there to the fire escape. Centrally, someone has broken down crates and constructed a small raised-bed garden up here, barren in winter but filled in three other seasons with a small assortment of herbs and vegetables. The rooftop has been tidied, tonight. Sort of. In that the tables and chairs have been neatly pushed together right next to the vegetable garden. And laid with a /cloth/. OK, that's the extent of the tidying. The garden smells of fresh soil and fresh growth, new green shoots springing up in places. Not many places yet. But some. The light up here right now is dim; the sun won't be up for a couple hours yet and the streetlamps below don't quite illuminate much. The street down below is quiet, at this hour. Occasional taxis. Occasional pedestrians. Mostly deserted. The roof has been deserted, too, for hours, building residents asleep or perhaps still out partying. Jax looks like he's been out partying when he opens the door to make his way out here. His jeans are tight, black and laced up their side-seams in red ribbon. A black tank top with a pair of red cherries embroidered on it. Thick black wrist-cuffs, hung with sturdy silver rings. His hair is black, too, though it's streaked in red and the makeup that glitters on his eyes and lips is bright red as well. His jacket is silver, though. He has a canvas tote bag over one arm, which he brings to set down in the middle of the table, peering up at the sky. Clear, now, though New York means -- not much by way of stars. Micah comes slipping through the door a few minutes later, in response to a text. He somehow manages to get into the building on his own, even in the wee-smalls. Perhaps he has been buying up Security skillpoints. His ensemble is far less put together, the usual patched jeans with an olive green jacket open over his black Reading Rainbow-Dash T-shirt. He is carrying a small paper bag in hand and wearing a big, lopsided grin. The door closes behind him with a thud. “Hiii, Jax-honey. How was your night?” "Micah!" Jackson is setting THINGS out on the table. Plates. Thermoses. Silverware. A large Tupperware container that is not a very /elegant/ serving dish BUT. He turns from this preparation to flash a bright smile towards Micah, bouncing over to wrap arms tight around the other man. "Umyou know, loud. The club is kind of loud. I danced on my break -- /uh/, sorry, that probably," he says, wrinkling his nose and stepping back, "means I'm kind of sweaty -- oops." Sheepish, he scrubs his hand through his hair. "Hihi. How about you?" Micah /squeezes/ Jax back quite securely. “Glad you were dancin’. An’ as if I hadn’t been ‘round you all sweaty before.” He pokes a finger playfully at Jax’s flank. “I’m good! Played in the Guerilla Garden. Got some work done. Stopped for coffee. Bought some candied ginger.” He bobs the bag in his hand so that its contents bounce and rattle a bit. “But would y’look at all this y’got set out? After workin’ all night, too.” Jackson blushes, leaning into the squeeze with a longer closer hug. "Yeah, I guess you have been around me --" He's dipping his head again, blushing deep, for all it can be seen in the dim light. "-- uh, all sweaty. How're the gardens doin'? I'm hoping they get Nox and her folks some good food. /Ohmygosh/, candied ginger?" Hug is forgotten. /Bag/ is reached for excitedly. "Oh, this ain't -- much, I cooked before I -- just had to reheat --" He shrugs a shoulder. Peering into the bag. Micah was doing /so well/ at not blushing until Jax started. Contagious redface. He nuzzles into Jax's shoulder for a moment before he is off after candies (a small, clear plastic container of which is sitting in the bag). Micah giggles at the other man's enthusiastic grabby hands. "They're comin' right along. Got a bunch of raised beds started off of all those old crates they'd picked up. I think it'll be a really nice thing once it gets to goin'." He wanders over toward the table. "Doin' anythin' after work is impressive. And y'cooked it at one point, too." "You know there's a couple of 'em," Jackson says. /Cheerfully/, once he has nabbed the container out of the bag. He puts these on the table, too. setting the tub on top of the bag so it doesn't blow away. "Gardens, I mean. Well okay there's a /lot/ there's probably about eleventy billion around the city but just a couple that /I'm/ -- ohgoshginger." He has opened the tub to nab a few pieces that are apparently distracting him. "I want asparagus." His nose crinkles up as he opens the tub. There is some kind of mushroom-crusted tofu atop a bed of mashed potatoes, caramelized beets sitting along one side. Staining the potatoes they butt up against. "Sorry I, um, didn't make it pretty -- oh gosh are you even hungry?" He eyes the container, and eyes the tote bag. It still has another two containers left inside it. But they're smaller. "You can't hardly talk, though, you don't never sleep neither. Workin'. Gardening. /More/ working." “Oh, even better! That way, there’ll still be some things up even if one gets a ‘cease and desist’.” Micah leans against one of the chairs. “I…can’t help with the asparagus if y’don’t happen to have it in one of those containers. It’s about the most annoyin’ thing in the world t’grow, too. So much /waitin’/.” He eyes the food approvingly. “Oh, hon, y’know I’m not worried about all that. An’ I’m pretty much always hungry.” He flashes Jax another grin. “I do sleep…some. Lot of nappin’. You just miss a lot always sleepin’ the same hours. And all at once! I figure I can sleep when things are /boring/. Now’s not boring.” "I mean I want it when it grows. If it grows. I mean /fresh/ asparagus can you imagine it's gonna be the /best thing/." Jackson is dishing food onto both plates. Gloop. He does at least try to make it a /little/ prettier here. Small pile of potatoes, tofu on top, beets kind of ringing it. One of the other two containers turns out to have mushroom gravy; he drizzles it over top. "/Some/," he says, flashing Micah a crooked smile. "Yeah. /I/ fret." Though here his cheeks colour again: "Well, I guess not fret /enough/ to, um, not still invite you up for four-in-the-mornin' dinner, oh gosh I'm terrible." He doesn't really sound all /that/ chagrined. He sets the two plates out at adjacent seats. "Things ain't never boring, honey-honey, that's a terrible idea, you'll die'a exhaustion if you wait for the world to get /boring/ 'fore you sleep." “Fresh anythin’ is pretty much the best thing.” Micah echoes with a chuckle. He watches the food serving process as if it is positively fascinating. “Do I look like y’just woke me up?” he teases. “There are really more little boring parts of a day than people notice. Waitin’ for things to happen. Sometimes the middle of the night. There’s plenty of little times when nothin’s goin’ on. Those are good sleep times.” Micah deepens his own blush. “’Sides. I like random surprise Jax times.” "You'll hafta show me some of those times. I ain't found no boring time, sometimes just kinda keep going till forever." He leans in, kissing Micah lightly for this last. "Maybe I'll make more surprise-times, then. Though. Not all this crazy hour'a night. And you know," he lifts a hand to ruffle Micah's tousled hair teasingly, "you /always/ look like I just woke you up." "S'pose y'do have even more goin' on than I usually do, at that." Micah pulls himself closer for kisses, and closer yet for the hair pettings--always like a cat demanding his justly due attention. "Aw, y'gonna try to pretty me up? It has been attempted in the past." He bunny-crinkles his nose, half-joking. "I don't know 'bout that, I think I just make it look frettier cuz I'm constantly panicking over nothin'," Jackson says with a laugh. His hand stays, when Micah moves closer, not ruffling anymore but just letting his fingers scritch slowly against the top of Micah's head. They gradually work their way down to rest at the nape of the other man's neck, and he pecks that crinkled nose lightly. "Gosh, honey-honey, I don't think -- I think tryin' to pretty you up'd be dangerous. You make me fluttery /already/, get you any prettier an' my heart might just stop." He tugs out one of the chairs, gesturing to it in invitation. “Hmm…yeah. Y’do need to be forced to relax more often, I think.” Micah bats at the shiny cuff ring on Jax’s other hand, extending catlike behaviour in this pawing. But /really/, shiny things just beg to be pawed at. The first hand he’s keeping occupied with rolling his shoulders back, solidifying contact there. And, oh, kisses! And compliments! His cheeks burn fiercely, which he tries to hide under more teasing. “See? The fashion non-effort ain’t laziness. It’s /altruism/.” He sinks into the offered chair. "It's real thoughtful of you." Jackson takes the adjacent seat once Micah has sat down. His hand lifts, finger brushing against Micah's blushing cheek. "I don't know, though. I mean if you had a hankering for gettin' dolled up some time, sure, but. You're already you. I don't know why I'd want t'mess with that." He quiets, for a moment, crossing himself and bowing his head for a moment before he picks up his fork. He shakes his wrist absently to make the shiny rings on his cuff jingle. "If I made you a cat-toy would you /chase/ it?" A tiny bright spot of red light appears on the table between them. It wiggles. Dancing. Zipping in a circle around Micah's plate. Micah giggles at Jax playing along with his teasing. “Hm…no, I like that approach better. I’ve had a few folks try at makin’ me more presentable. Don’t last without constant harassment with me, though.” The /jingling/ earns more pawing, where the light does not. “Why would I wanna chase that when I already got /jingly/ and /tactile/ and /shiny/ all in one? That one’s /just/ shiny.” Pawpaw. Jackson laughs, too, a bright amused sound as he holds his hand out. Wigglewiggle. The rings jingle at his wrist. "Y'gotta eat, though, or no more toys." He spears a beet for himself, and looks up at the sky. The spot of red on the table jumps -- up up up up! until it appears to disappear into the sky. Where it vanishes, there were no stars before but now there are, twinkling bright overhead. "Couple'a my pants is dotted with these, I can't stop playin' with ‘em all day." Gah, mixed messages! Being told to eat and then /tempted/ with jingly things. Batbat. “Ohgosh, I don’t think I’d ever get anythin’ done ever again…” Micah watches the dot zip off. “Look at you! Makin’ stars show up in the middle of the City.” "Sort of," Jackson says, with a crinkle of his nose. "I mean, it's not, uh, all that high /up/ -- s'just an illusion -- I don't think nobody outside of this neighborhood could even see 'em." He considers the stars overhead. "-- maybe not nobody outside of this block. Could be," he muses, "they're only just stars for /you/." His hand curls around at one of the battings, catching Micah's hand to lace his fingers through it. "Eat!" He /demonstrates/ helpfully by eating a beet. Micah giggles at Jax’s explanation. “Prob’ly that’s for the best. Folks might start to get /worried/ if they saw actual new stars happenin’.” His hand squeezes at Jax’s when it is caught. He lets his eyes go wide intentionally at the order to consume food, squeaking a little, “Yessir!” before taking up a fork with his free hand, spearing a bit of tofu and chewing quite deliberately. See? "Oh gosh I hate to think what people actually /into/ astronomy would think if suddenly a buncha new stars just /appeared/ --" Jackson wrinkles his nose at this, tipping his head back up towards the sky. His illusioned-stars are, actually, fairly accurately recreating real constellations but -- probably not ones that should be over New York right /now/. He is not /that/ knowledgeable about the sky. He rests their hands down on the table, fingers still laced through Micah's, though /his/ eyes go wide at Micah's response, cheeks colouring deeply. "Ohgosh I didn't -- um I mean you don't hafta -- I mean sorry I --" /Blush/. His smile is sheepish. He takes his next bite quietly, eyes focused upwards. "-- Do they make legs that are good for rock climbing?" "They'd try to report things, then people'd think they were crazy when they went to check later an' nothin' was there," Micah speculates with a chuckle. "Don't much matter, though. Think I'm fond of the idea of a private star show." He pulls Jax's hand to him, placing a kiss lightly on the inner wrist. "I'm just teasin' you, silly." The hand receives another squeeze as both are returned to rest on the table. "Can do, yeah. There are activity-specific prostheses for all sorts of things. S'expensive t'do usually, though." Jackson's smile softens at the kiss, warm and happy. "Hmm." It's a quiet thoughtful hum, at Micah's answer, and his thumb traces slowly against Micah's knuckles as he eats. Overhead, the stars are -- changing. Considerably less akin to reality, now. One of them is expanding and then /exploding/ in a fireworks-shower of white light. "I make people think they're crazy lots! S'like a secondary mutation. -- Running is nice, too," he decides, as almost an afterthought. "'specially now that the weather's gettin' nicer." Micah’s free hand busies itself with periodic deliveries of food to his mouth. His eyes are locked on the display above, however. “Hm…crazy can be fun. For certain definitions of crazy.” He slips subjects along with Jax. “Yeah, I’ve never tried the climbin’ things out, myself. Mostly’s a specialty sort of short foot with a pyramid ankle adapter… Got a runnin’ foot I use regular, though. An’ sometimes try out new ones, collect data for the engineers at the company that made the leg I use.” The display above is growing. Brighter. The next star explodes into a shower of purple and white, flower-shaped before it fades. And then a bright yellow angelfish. Jackson's eyes are focused upwards, but he glances sidelong to Micah. "S'just, it's gettin' warmer and all and my gym kicked me out /anyway/ and the weather's turning gorgeous and I get all fidgety without getting out and enjoying it some. And it'd be nice to enjoy it some /with/ you cuz, uh, pretty much everything's happier when I'm --" He stops, blushing, and quiets long enough to take another bite of food. "-- 'cept I don't really know what -- /you/ enjoy. When you ain't working. I'm making a list only but it only has games and gardening on there and -- maybe it needs to branch out of the /g/s." Micah is also focused on the lights display...at least visually. He gives Jax's hand another squeeze with the 'happier' commentary...and is blushing, himself, despite not having observed Jax's blushing. He starts /rambling/ to fill Jax's list, since Jax seems to feel it is a bit empty for now. "Oh /gosh/, I like most things. Gardenin', yeah. And gamin' of pretty much all varieties. Music...mostly singin'. I mean, I /can/ fumble through a little bit on a number of different instruments 'cause my momma had me try 'bout /everythin'/ growin' up. She's a music teacher. One o' those folks can get her hands on /anythin'/ an' make it sound beautiful. I just...never really got good with anythin' in particular. Um... I read a lot? An' like to watch really geeky movies. An' musicals! I like runnin'...it was a long while 'fore I could do that at all. An' ridin' horses. Never really was handy at real /sports/ things, though. Pretty much have to keep my hands busy all the time. I knit or crochet if I ain't got somethin' to make for work--you /did/ know that already, though. I like doin' things with people that /they/ like to do. Used to fish with m'pops... Just...like people an' people bein' happy, I guess." His shoulders rise and fall in a noncommittal shrug. Another star bursts into fireworks, this one sparkling in silvery music notes. "Oh, gosh, Ryan's kinda like that, I love music but I ain't never had no talent that ways myself. Love listening to people who /do/, though -- you want to go see Pippin?" This is a sudden bright interjection, although Jackson does not wait for answer before he is chattering off again. "Oh my /gosh/, you ride?" The next explosion overhead glitters in blue. It looks very horselike. Ponylike, maybe. Its mane and tail are rainbow. "We should go out an' -- out by the school there's so much gorgeous ground and we have stables there with -- you know, it's hard /not/ to be happy 'round you, you're always so /positive/. What's your family like?" Although this question runs immediately into an equally curious: "-- If you had a holodeck what would you do in it?" Ohgosh, ADD /explosion/! Jax with the many questions and the visual things to watch and… Micah tries to rein in his brain to answer in a way that makes sense. “Oh, shows! I love live shows. Don’t get t’do ‘em often enough. We should show.” He bounces in his seat a little, his fork falling against the plate with a light clatter as it is forgotten. A little squee-like sound /might/ be hiding in the back of Micah’s throat at the sort of Dashie firework display. “I do! I started therapeutic ridin’ when I was little and it was like the /best possible thing/. I ain’t been in forever and a /day/ ‘cause it’s so /city/ up here! Y’know a place? That should…I don’t know places here. We should do that, too.” Micah pauses a moment at the family question. “Very…variable, dependin’ on who y’mean. M’pops is kinda gruff-quiet. Runs an auto shop. Kinda…outdoorsy type. Huntin’ and fishin’ and plantin’ and football, y’know? Momma’s just…the sweetest thing. What people wanna think of when they think of an elementary school teacher. Just /in love/ with every kind of art there is. I…um…” His nose scrunches up briefly. “Don’t necessarily spend a lot of time with the rest of m’family anymore? Not all of them are too…approvin’. Of my ‘life choices’.” Micah jumps right along onto the ‘holodeck’ question. “I would be /all over/ hoppin’ into a Sherlock Holmes scene with Data and Geordi. Or…well…anythin’ with Data and Geordi. I might’ve told m’kindergarten class that I was gonna marry Geordi /and/ my physical therapist, Jill, when we were s’posed to introduce ourselves the first day of class.” Micah is back to blushing with that, rosy red on face, ears, and neck. “It’s just not fair. He also showed up to read to kids when he was on shore leave.” He pulls at the fabric of his T-shirt meaningfully. Jax hasn't forgotten his food. He eats quietly while Micah talks, and overhead the fireworks are continuing. Less thematic, as he listens, just bright star-bursts of colour. "Then we'll show. Yeah! I know a place. We should go." From Jax's sudden bouncy energy there might be some danger he means /right now/. "Sounds like our folks would actually get along swell. They sound, uh, proper Southern." This is a little wry, and he squeezes Micah's hand gently. He sets his fork down, too, but only because he has finished mowing through his plate of food. Micah's confession gets a /bright/ grin. "-- Shane pretty much had a giant crush on Geordi, too," he says, laughing, "s'pretty understandable, they were /both/ of 'em --" He studies Micah's face thoughtfully. "Sherlock Holmes? You want to detective around?" Micah chuckles at Jax's enthusiasm. "I think they might get a bit weirded out, were we t'show up in the middle of the night? Wherever your place is. But, yes. Future shows. An' future ridin'. An'... Yeah. M'pops is confounded by me a bit, but he deals. Momma would prob'ly still visit me in jail if I turned out to be a /mass murderer/. The rest...'specially the older ones.../very/ Southern." Micah's thumb traces idly along the back of Jax's. "Gosh, who /wouldn't/ crush on him? I mean...pretty. An' geeky-pretty... I mean, detectivin's /one/ thing that could be fun. But havin' a for reals holodeck would be a little bit like steppin' on the TARDIS. Where d'you wanna go? Someplace awesome. Just...so many /options/ an' they're /all/ good ones..." "Oh, honey-honey, it takes a /whole/ lot more'n showing up in the middle of the night to weird out my school. But. OK, /future/ riding." Jax settles back down into his seat properly. Though he hasn't really /shed/ the bouncy enthusiasm. Another firework bursts overhead, lingering in the outline of the /Enterprise/. "-- I can't hardly imagine you as a mass murderer," he admits, "but I guess s'the ones y'least expect. There /is/ a lot of awesome places out there." He chews at his lip, wiggling at one of his lip rings. "-- But which one is the /most/ awesome?" Micah quirks his lips to one side, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Y'know, that place /is/ a little funny? I been up there to see Liza... S'huge. An' they like...practically had me under armed guard on the way /in/ the first time. But then they let me wander out on my own? An' I had to get directions from one of the students to even find /outside/. An' /she/ was a special one, besides. But... Y'think they maybe had a telepath watchin'? Or an invisible person. A very unhelpful invisible person who lets you get lost. Ohgosh, I'm gettin' all paranoid and crotchety." He giggles at himself. "I...wow. Would honestly just end up with decision paralysis. Doctor'd end up wingin' off someplace random, like he does when companions just give 'im wide-eyed looks at the 'where' question. What would /you/ do?" "Ain't quite so paranoid," Jax says, with a crooked grin. He glances down, at their hands, his fingers tightening through Micah's. "It's a school for mutants. They're -- we're a little paranoid. Kinda gotta be, to keep the kids safe." The question makes him blush, still looking downwards. "Me? I go -- somewhere sunny," he answers, quiet. At that hand-squeeze, Micah scoot-scoots his chair over until it is up against Jax’s. He leans into the other man, side to side. “Yeah, I can see how that’d be, unfortunately.” His head tips to rest on Jax’s shoulder. “That’s a little…vague-ish. S’it a secret place?” Jackson smiles, kissing the top of Micah's head and then resting his cheek against it. "No. It ain't no secret. I just -- I just don't actually know," he admits sheepishly. "Could be I find plenty'a excitement just living. Plenty of happy, too." And then a pause, his nose wrinkling before he adds: "...Could be I don't got much imagination." Micah wriggles against Jax’s side, as if to burrow there. “I didn’t, neither. S’hard, havin’ every option in the world…” He snorts at Jax’s speculation. “You not havin’ imagination? You, me, an’ everybody knows that’s bunk.” Jax untwines his fingers from Micah's, lifting his arm to curl it instead around the other man's shoulders, holding him close, encouraging the burrowing. There's another burst, overhead, bright and red-yellow-orange that spreads into the shape of a fiery bird and then returns to being stars. His fingers trace down from Micah's shoulder, absently running against his arm. "Maybe life's just full of happy all by itself." Micah is practically spilling out of his chair, a decent portion of his weight distributed over to Jax as he nuzzles. He watches the firebird appear and disappear in the early morning sky with a childlike smile. “S’pretty much everywhere y’look. If y’look hard enough.” "Yeah." Jackson hooks an ankle around a leg of Micah's chair, holding it in place against his own. His hand rests against Micah's arm, fierce-warm to the touch as it usually is. His head tips down, nuzzling into Micah's hair. "Though sometimes," he says, quiet, "s'sitting right next to you." It is apparently less time for more talking (which is a rarity when Micah is involved!) and more time for kissing. He snakes a hand up behind Jax's neck, fingers twining idly into his hair. He turns his head the mere fractions required, given their current position, to press lips to lips. Jackson's head tips down and he meets this kiss fully, with a soft happy hum. His hand slides down from Micah's arm to rest at his hip, still holding the other man close. Overhead, there is another bright explosion. This one shimmers off into a large red heart.