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Log Title: Morning After Moonwalk
Log setting: Caddy’s apartment, late morning.
Log Cast:
Trace
Jason
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So Trace is loafing about Caddy's apartment. Usually at this hour he'd be fast asleep. It's late morning, but he went to bed kind of early considering his usual odd hours and now finds himself awake. He's sprawled out on his belly on the air mattress, poetry book before him, reading verse. Beside him he's got a healthy breakfast of dry Froot Loops out of the box, and a couple Loops are scattered about from where they've carelessly fallen from big handfulls. He seems peaceful enough, and with Caddy off at work and Carly still snoozing in the girls' bedroom, the house is respectfully quiet.
Speaking of people usually asleep... Usually asleep right next to you, actually, curled up in a cute little ball. The door handle jiggles lightly, then turns all the way when it's discovered to be unlocked. In slips Jason, looking tired, dishieveled, and completely content. His tanktop's even inside out, and doing no better at hiding the night's activities than it did the first time. Seems 'nibbling' takes on a whole new meaning with this pair. At first he thinks that your unmoving form is asleep and he's therefore safe, but as he turns to pad to his usual spot... he realizes he was wrong. Err, hi Trace? He catches his lip between his teeth and gives you a sheepish, apologetic look.
Trace meets your sheepish look with an easy smile, though just a little bit sleepy as he pulls his gaze out of the book and shoves blue ropes away from his eyes. He's awake, but he hasn't been awake and moving about long enough to lose that gentle fuzziness that comes with mornings. "Mornin'," he greets, closing the book gently (the place marked with one of the pressed blossoms), setting it aside. He scoot over on the mattress to allow some room should you still wish to lie down, lying on his side now with his head propped up on one elbow. "Y'know, if ya still had yer hair them'd be easier to hide," he chides softly, a grin flitting across his expression briefly. "Not that fuzz doan' got its merits, mind."
Jason, indeed, does still want to lie down. Tired, sore, hung-over (all quite pleasantly, mind you), he's probably not much longer for the concious world. The fox pads over and crawls onto the mattress, the side that's against the wall like usual. Then just flumps onto his stomach and rests his cheek on folded arms. "Was figgerin' my hair'd all be back by the time I was gettin' hickies 'gain, y'know?" he mumbles with a grin that's bordering on 'dreamy.' Lazy green eyes drift up to find your hazel, where they happily go and lose themselves. "Shouldna thrown my shirt 'way, huh? Feel like I'm the poster-boy fer child abuse'r sumthin." He stretches out on the mattress, yawning wide. Oh yeah, so abused. But then he scoots up close and leans over to rub that fuzz against your chest. "Sorry fer ditchin' ya last night, though," he murmurs apologetically. Even though you technically did the ditching. But they made you, see? And he's sorry.
"No 'pologizin', s'cool," Trace murmurs fondly as he reaches out to run a gentle hand over your fuzz, fingers swirling briefly around the ear for lack of fuzzier ears to scritch at, and then retreating, tucking in close to his own chest. "I wanted t'go n'letchya be 'lone awhile. It's good t'see ya so happy with him. I'm really glad f'you..." He chuckles softly, fingers reaching out again, this time to gently brush a poor reddened welt, a light feather-brush so brief it probably feels cool on the warmer, aggrevated skin. "F'I hadda sweetheart, I wouldn' be embarrassed. I'd wear m'passion marks like badges. Be all, "See? Somebody thinks I'm hot stuff." He giggles softly and leans over to nuzzle at your shoulder before pulling back to offer, "Take a shirt'a mine tho, f'ya like. I got four now. Black'un, brown'un, the demon boy 'un, an' this un'." See? He's rich with shirts and happy to share the wealth.
Jason makes a pleased 'mmmn' sound when you pet him, getting all nice and comfy against you. "Still, I mean, s'kinda like I kinda feel bad cuz, wull, yeah.." A little shiver goes through him at your lighter touches, elliciting a giggle. "I mean, don' know how it happened 'n all, but s'like..." Hmm, how to put this. Brows furrow, as he regards your chest, one finger absently tugging at the cotton of your shirt. "Jus' don' wantcha jealous s'all, that's it." Of course that's not it, but that's the main worry right now. But then he giggles and flashes the brilliant eyes back up at you. "I /like/ 'em an all, but I mean, what if someone asks? Tell 'em I met a hot chick 'r sumthin?" Cuz, y'know, there /are/ people out there who don't know about Jason and who wouldn't prolly react too well to it. Not that the foxboy has ever had any trouble lying through his teeth to those people. Still, it's embarassing. Anyhow, even if this weren't the reason, his eyes light up at the offer of your Demonboy shirt. "Wait, yer Demonboy shirt? Really?" He loves that shirt. Especially on you. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad on himself.
"M'not jealous," Trace chuckles with quiet mirth, gaze lowering to watch your fingers twist up the black cotton. "TooFar ain' my type at all." He shakes his head and says more seriously, quieter, "I'm lonely, but that's not the same as jealous, an' it has nothin' t'do with you. In fact, y'make it better more'n anyone. So doan' worry 'bout me, honest." His smile broadens as you light up over the shirt, and he shrugs one shoulder and nods, "Yeah, 'course. Member you sayin' you wanted t'borrow that ages ago, an' I wondered why you never did. But go ahead. I been wearin' this one more often anyway lately."
You get a giggle and a gentle push at the TooFar comment, but then he curls up close and pushes his fuzzy head up underneath your chin as he resumes twisting your shirt between a couple of slender fingers. "Jus' don' wanna remind ya 'r nuthin'. I dunno, guess it's jus' cuz I'd get all crazy-jealous if it was the other way 'round." He tilts his head back to grin up to you, to show that he's kidding... mostly. But back to the fuzzy not-quite nuzzle. Silence for a few moments, then a deep breath. "Dunno, though, kinda snuck up on me," he murmurs with a smirk. "Thought he was jus' pullin' my strings fer kicks even after he kissed me the first time." TF? Pulling strings? Naaaah.
"Told ya, doan' worry. Be happy with whatchya found in him." Trace goes quiet fairly soon after you do however, one arm slipping around you gently. He seems a little needy of the affection tonight, and soothed that you're giving it up so freely. His quiet lingers on as you speak of your first kiss with him and your trepidation, and he finally nods and agrees, "Boy like TooFar, you were right t'be. But I'm really glad it's workin' out... I mean, he jokes around, but I don't think he'd draw a joke out this long, and he jest seems to really like you, the way he sits close to you and everything." His smile is part sly, part simple gladness for you as he admits, "I was really glad t'see it, actually, coz as me an' TooFar was gettin' to be better friends I was thinkin' it'd be neat if you two hooked up, an' I dunno, jest always seemed t'me you liked him some, how you'd always watch his eyes a lil' longer'n you had ta."
That gets a flush. Geez. Did EVERYone know before he did? You, TooFar... Hell, if TF stuck around, /Bat'd/ prolly have started bristling or something. Oh... Bat. When that arm slipped around him, he just pressed close and nuzzled into your chest. When he reminds himself of Bat though, he tangles his fingers more into your shirt and heaves a little sigh. "I guess we got a few things in common, yeah," he admits distractedly about the perkigoth. Well, the looks are completely different, but, yeah, they're ending up to be pretty compatible. "Um," he continues, "jus' a little weird how everythin' seemed ta change in a few days, don' you think?" He rubs your shirt between his fingers in a sort of security blanket fashion for a few moments, then suddenly pops out with, "Think Bat'll be... wull, y'know if he finds out?" Like... Bat /is/. Or has been lately. Not that Jason's gonna make any attempt at hiding anything. But still... Maybe he just doesn't want to deal with the crap. Or maybe he actually could still be concerned. Though if you asked him if he was, you'd prolly get a dirty look.
"Yes," Trace admits in all honesty. He's rather certain Bat will be how Bat is. "But doan' letcha self worry none fer it." Half a grin, somewhat wry as he points out, "Mean come on, least you waited til ya was broken up with him t'jump in bed with someone. He got no right at all to pass his judgement. Actually, I bet what'll get him more is that y'din' spend more time jest mopin' after him or whatever. Kinda fucked up that he'd want you hurtin' f'longer if he cares. I dunno, I'll be honest with you Jason. I still care for Batiste. But I doan' like how he's wronged you. An' I think TooFar's done you more good inna couple days than Bat did you in those last two're three months 'fore things all went to hell, what with his suspicions and his dishonesty. Jest sounds like a cold bed he was keepin' f'you."
Jason gets a grimace at that. Yeah, he actually suspects that Bat /would/ be miffed that he didn't suffer some more. Like that would make all the love that came before false. And nevermind how long Jason was emotionally single and dealing with it. That night less than a week ago was just an assertation to Bat what, in the redhead's heart, had happened a long time before. "Don' think his bed was all /that/ cold," fuzz replies with a bit of a wry smirk of his own. Sure, he's still got a little bitterness, but the fact that the comment wasn't made with all seriousness indicates that he's already learning to let it go - just like he advised Bat to do. "I dunno, though," he murmurs, shifting gears again (as these conversations tend to do). "Guess... I mean, I like TF an' all, but I guess we're ju' foolin' 'round a little. If it goes on 'n b'comes sumthin' more, great an' if not, fine too. Right now, though, I'm thinkin' it'd be smart not ta stick my paw in the same trap I jus' pulled it outta, y'know?" Sounds like he half-believes and is half-trying to convince himself of what he says. Some truth in there, some not so much. Working his heart out in his head isn't something he's had much success with before.
"I know I'm too romantic," Trace grins wistfully. "Like in a naive way, you know? I guess it's stupid. I could never handle casual sex, I don't think. My heart'd get all tangled up in it. I know it would." He sighs softly and nods, "I unnerstand whachya mean, I guess. Bein' cautious and all, keepin' things light. I mean, all this *is* real soon, even if I still think it's all good for you, least it has been so far..." There's a pause, and then he chuckles depreciatively and shakes his head a little, murmuring "You shouldn't come to me. I'm pathetic, like the very last person anybody should come to f'love advice."
Jason mmmns dubiously at that last part, pretty sure he disagrees with you there. "Ain' such thing as too romantic," he finally says sleepily after a long silence, once again nuzzling your chest. "'Sides, m'glad yer cautious, cuz if yer heart got all tangled up with the wrong one, I'd hafta go 'n steal it back for ya." He grins into your shirt, eyes closed, finally slipping an arm around you like you have him. It slides up a little and fingers tangle amongst your braids gently. "M'glad," he mumbles softer, starting to seriously drift off now. Whether he's glad of /something/ or just glad in general, you're probably not going to find out, cuz he's definitely on his way to sleep. And tangled up with you like he is, you might just have to join him or suffer. Possessive little fox.
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