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Log Title: Love and Chocolate

Log setting: Chez Walker

Log Cast:
Jean-Batiste
Jason
Trace

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[ Some of this log is missing... This picks up after a fight over Trace still being Enchanted after Batiste’s wore off. ]

"But I didn't just -forget- it," Batiste insists, looking between the two of you with crazy, hectic eyes. "I mean, I knew I was forgetting something, but I didn't even know what, I just knew it last night, and I just wanted to be a part of it, and I didn't even know what -it- was..." He looks very tired for a moment, too. Drained. He'd been ready to get up and leave Walker's home, leave everything behind if that's what he'd been asked to do. He doesn't even bother trying to figure out exactly how insane he is. If the three of you are in the same bucket of insanity, that's all that matters to him. He reaches out tentatively to Jason, fingertips freezing a half-inch away. In a tiny voice: "Please come sit up here with us? Please?"

Trace sighs, rubbing at his runny nose briefly. Getting off his knees and sitting down properly, scoots back a little to make some room for Jason should he take Batiste up on that offer. Now that he's gone and blurted all that out, and still finds himself no closer to understanding, he's very quiet. Leaning his cheek to the back of the couch, liquid hazel eyes flicker between the two of you. He itches at his forearms and doesn't say a word.

Jason lifts his head a little, little green flames hiding behind a veil of red. His ears still droop down, the feeling of hurt still lingering in his expression, but he's not angry anymore. At least, not at this moment. The gaze flicks between you, taking in both of your expressions. No, things aren't... /healed/. That much is clear. But he just sighs again and unfolds himself, then crawls onto the couch between you. He tries to stay there, suspended between you, but not touching either of you. .... he can't help it. He gives in to his instincts and grabs Trace's arm, pulling the blue-braided friend over with him as he collapses against Batiste. He turns towards Bat and hides his face in the flannel, sniffling softly in its folds, his tail curling lightly about Trace's side as he does so. Ball of hair and fur again.

No, things aren't -healed-. But there's little that embraces and familiar, friendly warmth can't help. And so Batiste sighs, reaching out his arms. One curls loosely around the back of Jason's head, fingers lost in tousled red locks, the other reaching out to rest against Trace's leg. The more senses he can use to remind himself that the both of you are still here, the better. Except for sight - he keeps his eyes closed, moisture matting his eyelashes together again.

Trace blinks, but allows himself to be pulled forward. For a moment he's rigid, slightly awkward as he curls his arms around Jason. He's not used to that, not really... Sure, tickling his red-haired friend comes naturally. Pinning him to the bed to try and paint him blue with sharkadelic slime, no problem! Their relationship is just different from the one he shares with Batiste, in that he's never actually *held* Jason before, for the sake of comfort. An intriguing, brilliant, untouchable fireheart... And yet, Jason tugs him forward and he complies, melting against the boy as best he knows how and pressing a cheek gently against his shoulder, against wisps of red hair. When he feels the touch at his leg, a hand slips free to seek out Batiste's, to squeeze it softly if he can reach. Needs to find it. Needs you *both*...

Jason never really has explained himself in words. Sometimes you might get the feeling that he can't, other times it's that he won't. But /this/, this physical contact, that's where he expresses his feelings towards the two of you. He curls his fingers into Bat's flannel, his face buried firmly in the soft fabric scented of Bat, only his two furry and yet not-quite-out-of-place ears poking out. And as Trace wraps his arms around Jason, there's a soft sigh, as tension releasing, and his tail curls more firmly about the blue-haired boy's waist. Just like Trace, it's both of you he needs, despite Batiste's fears. The magic just isn't there without the both of you.

Jean-Batiste tangles his fingers around Trace's hand when it bumps his, a tight, protective, almost desperate grasp. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter for a moment and hitches out a shaky sigh, tears welling up at the corners of his eyes and leaking away towards his temples. He pets Jason's hair slowly, brushing against one of his ears, then draws his hand away - but only to wipe his eyes repeatedly, and then his hand is back. He sniffles, blinks experimentally, and coughs once before making a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a sob. He sighs again, smoother this time.

Trace squeezes back gratefully, his face buried in red and black, cheeks dry. He's the first to break the long silence... Of course he can explain himself with words. This physical affection thing is very, very new to him, after all. "I.. stuff like tonight scares me so bad," he says, and then turns his head slightly so his voice won't be so muffled by Jason's shoulder. "I can't lose either of you, see? I'm never... gonna keep anything from either of you ever again. Just know that. So... so don't give me no more matchbooks less Bat gets one. And Bat can't tell me nothin' Jason can't hear. Coz I just... I just can't deal with this shit; I don't think none of us three can. We're too... like one."

Jason laughs softly. Very softly, and very muffled by Bat's shirt, his fingers digging more into the fabric as his shoulders shake gently. Turning his head a little so one half of his face, cheek moist, he murmurs, "Oh, yeah... that should be easy... One in heart, one in mind, one of a kind." Another soft laugh at the inadvertant, yet (to him), too appropriate rhyme. One hand raises from Bat's side to reach behind to touch Trace's face, the other hand sliding up over Batiste's shoulder to touch the other boy's cheek. "But d'ya know even how the other parts of the heart beats?" he adds in a faint whisper.

Jean-Batiste's eyelids twitch again as he swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing. No secrets. Can he do that? Just thinking about it makes his heart race like a cornered animal's, a nasty, jittery feeling. Is he brave enough to share all of himself, insecurities and foibles and all, and trust the two of you won't react the way it's always been? Maybe Batiste believes that some secrets are just too dangerous to be let out in the open. He sighs, sounding shaky again, and wipes at his eyes, gulping down air. He starts picking at his bottom lip with his teeth, worrying the patch of dead skin where he split his lip on Walker's staircase weeks before. He listens to the both of you, turning his face into Jason's hand a little, sighing moistly as he whispers "Whatever..." He swallows again, then returns to chewing his lip. "Whatever you want." He'll leave himself in both of your's hands, and see if he ends up held or dropped.

"Wh... what do you mean?" Trace asks softly of Jason. "And does it matter? I know... you're different. But I've known different people before. Even when I forget, I still *believe* in so much..! So I don't care, I don't care 'bout any've that stuff..." He bites his lip stubbornly, a small pause, before addressing both of you now. "I swear t'God. I don't care. Ya both go on and turn out like ya psycho axe murderin' blood suckin' monster beasts, but if ya both still gonna be like you have been t'me, I'm gonna love ya anyway... That's just how it is." He goes silent again, buries into red hair, squeezes Batiste's hand tight with slender fingers. The stubborn set of his jaw is hidden, but it's in his eyes, as he peeks up at the both of you past Jason's shoulder.

Jason rests his head against Batiste's side, eyes staring out into nothing as his tail brushes up and down against Trace's side and Bat's legs. Quiet. Thinking. The word 'love' seems to have thrown him into this state. Fingers stroking Batiste's cheek absently (or not so absently), he finally looks back over his shoulder at Trace, finding the hazel eyes amongst the blue braids, then looks up to Batiste, and murmurs softly, "S'how it is..." He takes a deep breath, eyes bright with both tears and an intense emotion. "S'how it is, right Bat?"

"S'how it is..." Batiste echoes in a small, weary voice, nodding imperceptibly against Jason's fingers. He feels very small right now, lost and aimlessly scared as a child trying to see their mother's legs through the chaos of a busy carnival. He concentrates on breathing for a while, just feeling the both of you, so close. Clinging. Finally, he swallows hard, clears his throat, and murmurs, "I love the both of you. I do. Things wouldn't get so crazy if...if I didn't. That's how it works when you love someone, I think. I'm just..." Scared. It doesn't come out, though, except as another hard swallow. "I'm not strong enough to be alone anymore. Whatever it takes...just tell me, and I'll do it."

Trace draws in a deep breath. "Do...? Just, just do everything like you have been's enough for me, Batiste..." He tugs Batiste's hand close to his cheek and presses it there with a sigh. "I know I'm not... strong at all, but I don't think it's because I need this. I don't... get why you think that. It's more like..." He gets the start of a trembly smile tugging at his lips. "Like before you ever had chocolate -- like before you even knew what it *was*, you didn't miss it. You couldn't, y'know? And that's not about strength, it's like... you found something so good. And you want it so bad, and now you feel like you'd just die without... chocolate." He gives a sniffly giggle.

Okay, things are going well now. Right? At least... they're getting better. Jason burrows his face into Batiste's side again, though not in a concealing way. More like when he does when he's getting comfortable (despite how ticklish Batiste is). He pulls one of his hands in close and curls some of Bat's shirt back up in his fingers, clinging gently. But he leaves the other hand up on Bat's shoulder, so he's sort of sprawled across the slightly larger boy. His tail.. so odd that it's normal here.. its brushy length settles itself around Trace again, the fuzzy white tip, as always, twitching mildly. He's made himself quite comfortable between the two of you, possibly the most comfortable he's been in awhile. The three of you, close and warm. If you're speaking of needs, this is what /Jason/ needs. This physical affection. And maybe a little chocolate. He murmurs the word into Bat's side. Then murmurs something about love. The two go well in his mind, apparently.

"Chocolate," Batiste echoes, and the edge of his mouth twitches in a faltering smile. He nods slightly, blinking moisture-heavy eyelids to look towards Trace. "Yeah, I...yeah. I think...that's what this is like." Softly: "I keep telling you that you're a poet..." He chuckles weakly, barely an exhalation of breath, and starts stroking Jason's hair again with long, careful stripes. "I just...don't want to be in the way. I'd rather be alone again. But...the three of us..." He shakes his head a little, emotions choking up his throat. He squeezes Trace's hand fiercely, then kisses the crown of Jason's head. "You...you want some chocolate?" he asks hesitantly. "I...meant to ask you to close your eyes and open your mouth, I was going to feed the first one to you, but then I got upset...it wouldn't be a surprise anymore, but..."

The slender, scarred arm that curls around as much of Jason as Trace can gather is now at ease, clinging gently now, comfortable. Truly, he's comfortable with all of these revelations, having admitted to himself his own feelings for the two of you long ago. The prospect of sharing everything, dropping every wall, comes to him with relief rather than anxiety. To do so is binding, and he wants that more than anything now. He's tried to say it before... The tightly woven braid of red, yellow, and blue, his most recent addition Jason's wall, was painted in his head long before that. Batiste speaks, and he looks at his blonde friend for a long time, his eyes hazel-bright, wide, and wondering. "Feed me with my eyes open..?" he asks softly.

Jason seems to be feeling relief as well, considering how comfortable he is. His hand slides out to rest on Trace's arm while the other's fingers flick lightly at Batiste's braids. Apparently, to him, this has never been a question of how close the three of you are. It's just been when is everyone gonna openly recognize it. He shifts his head once again, resting his cheek against the flannel. He likes the feel of it. His eyes are closed, though still a little puffy from his hidden tears. But he smiles softly, feeling safe, and murmurs, "Wonder how much a big mattress would cost at Goodwill..." Crisis solved, his mind already begins to wander.

Jean-Batiste, currently the bottom piece of bread in the Jason Sammich, chuckles faintly at Jason's words, giving his head just the tiniest of shakes. Jason is, and always will be, Jason. "You know what I thought about looking into?" he murmurs. His voice comes out a little quavery at first, tangled-up emotions still making his heart beat a little too quick. "I thought about...finding out where you can buy stuffing for beanbag chairs, you know? And making...like, a beanbag mattress. For our place. We could make it as big as we wanted, then." He grins slightly, knowing it's a rather silly idea - still, it appealed to him. After a final, tight squeeze of Trace's fingers, he releases them and wraps both arms around Jason, eyes closing when he embraces the flame-haired boy. "Mmm," he comments, then opens his eyes again, smiling at Trace. "If you can get them..." He gestures towards the little plastic bag on the coffee table. "...I'll feed you both. However you want." Beware caffinated Glamour.

"Oh, I 'kin see it... Sounds so perfect! But y'know, we tear them apart and we got little bean bag bits all over the carpet, findin' em *years* later..." Trace giggles a little. The idea appeals to him, especially the accidentle assumption that they'd live in the new place for years. With a smiling grunt, he reeeeeaaaaches and still can't grasp them. Just barely brushes the plastic with his fingertips, which is endlessly frustrating, but oddly amusing to him. Or maybe it's pleasure at something lighthearted, after such an intense session of soul-unburdening. He finally, reluctantly, gets up off Jason partly to push himself up with all his weight on one hand, retrieving the chocolate covered coffee beans with the other. He snuggles right close again as soon as he has the chance, handing the chocolate up to Batiste to distribute.

Jason lets out a soft whimper as Trace's warm weight disappears from his back. But the blue-braided friend's return is marked with a gentle sigh. He clearly will have you two here all night if he has any say in the matter. His tail-tip thumps slowly against the back of the couch as he lays there, and then he giggles at some thought that comes to him. "Need pillows. Fer pillow fights. 'N like.. the bean-bag bed..." Another giggle. "Watch it 'splode with beans when we all jump on it..." He's fantasizing about the apartment, obviously, his voice sort of distant. "'N a coffee maker, cos we need coffee." Nodnod. "'N more pillows in case we don' feel like gettin' up 'n wanna lay 'round all day drinkin' coffee."

Jean-Batiste squeezes Trace's fingers again when he hands the little ribbon-tied plastic bag over, then starts working at untying the rainbow-hued bow, smiling down at it. Yes, this is much better. Something still twinges inside of him, but it's a healing pain, he bets, and not a hurting one. "Ali sews and makes clothes...we'll ask her to make the bed. She'll know how to make it strong enough." He unties the ribbon finally, and tickles Jason's cheek with it, smiling again. "Lots of pillows. Like...nine or ten, lots for everyone..." Then a fond chuckle. "Let's make sure we can get electricity before we get a coffee maker, okay?" He draws out two beans, and tucks the bag in behind him so it won't spill, then grins faintly at the both of you. "Open up..." he murmurs, dark eyes shining as he carefully feeds each of you one of the treats.

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