nysalogs | Something's in the air

Entry tags:

Something's in the air

Who: Jessica Jones (

assholic) & OPEN
What: Catch-all log for February
When: All of February
Where: Mostly in Wyver, (home, arena, bars). Occasionally in Olympia due to deliveries. Up on Thesa Station visiting Trish.
Warning(s): Language. Very likely NSFW content in Clark/Jessica thread.

February. One of her least favorite months. She'd always hated how the marketing squad always made any woman not in a relationship feel like a failure. She preferred to stay single that time of year out of spite more than anything. And she was doing it again this year.

Sort of.

Maybe.

Whatever. It was close enough.

She noticed there were new faces that didn't belong to natives around, and that had her slipping up to the Station to see if maybe someone blonde and very much wanted had woken. Maybe it was a stupid hope, but she hated knowing that Trish was there but not really there. That she wasn't in control of herself, something she knew her friend would hate. She wound up being disappointed, again, staring at her face through the clear window, feeling that sick feeling in the pit of her stomach at how close to dead she looked. She just didn't trust the people that brought them here. Jessica didn't trust many people, and one of the few she did was cut off from her right now and it made her... edgy.

Tensions were rising between the cities, and she was finding it more and more difficult when she had to run errands between them. Her new-fangled ability to fly was coming in handy, helping her get over city walls past hours and making travel a little easier, but she was still looked at with sideways glances and dirty looks whenever she had to pop into Olympia. Funnily enough, she was used to that, and it just rolled off her back. But she didn't like that she didn't fully know why there was this us vs them mentality going on between the cities. She also didn't like that it looked like the people brought here by the Orbiters were going to be shoved into it, whether they wanted to be or not. Frankly, she was sick of having other people's shit rained down on her, but it looks like even with her world being destroyed, that part of her life wasn't over yet.

Great.

[ooc: Jessica can be found in/around Wyver, in/around Olympia during deliveries, and occasionally on Thesa Station checking in on Trish. Feel free to start your own prompt, or msg/pp me for something I can put up for you @junglewere on plurk.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It wasn't Valentine's Day in the sense that the natives of this world were celebrating a Christian Saint, but there were enough people from her world, or a world similar to hers, that she'd heard the word muttered around the place. And it seemed the natives were either picking up on the vibe or they were carrying one of their own, because she noticed more romantic themed things around stalls and vendors than she had before.

Or maybe it was the same amount and she was just noticing because it was on her mind. Which it shouldn't be. Because she wasn't dating anyone.

Except... hell. She had no idea what the hell she was doing with Clark, but whatever it was, she liked it. Enough to harass Alan into doing her a favor so she could get something done that she found herself hoping he'd like. And then second guessing herself, because what if he didn't? What if he thought she was stepping over some line? God, what if Alan was pulling one over on her and it wasn't even--... no. She had to stop talking herself out of this.

She set a box on Clark's bed, wrapped up in a festive scarf (not pink) and with a card that had his name on it and instructions on how to work the gift. As if he could mistake that it was for him. She'd found an artist that imbued magic into what he made, and what was wrapped up in a box on his bed was a portrait that was carved into a dark crystal type rock. The magic part of it was that if someone ran their finger down the side of the image, it would cast a faint holographicly lit up image that lasted for a few minutes before fading back into just the carved version of before. She'd paid more than she felt she should for it, but what the hell did she know about how much magical shit should cost? She just hoped that Alan had done a decent approximation of Clark's mother in that sketch, otherwise she was going to take it and smash it over his goddamn head.

Then, she went into her room, closed the door, and waited. Why did she feel nervous? Probably because it had been a long, long time since she'd cared about what someone thought of her, and longer still since she'd tried to do anything for someone with any feeling behind it. Chewing on her thumb, she listened for the sound of the door and tried not to reach for the bottle of whiskey tucked under the bedside table.

Clark's been doing a bit of running around outside of work, which means he's home a little later than usual. He heads right to his room, figuring he'll get changed quickly and start dinner, and he's a little surprised to see the gift on his bed. It's a guess as to whether it was Bruce or Jess, considering Bruce's familiarity with his window these days, but the scarf tells him pretty clearly who it is and he can't help but smile at the 'wrapping' as he pulls it open.

The rock gets something of a blink, thoughts of Kryptonian information systems flickering through his mind before he looks at the carving. His hand moves almost by itself to stroke that familiar face, the hair, as if he could brush it aside even now, and he's a little startled at the image that lights up at him until he sees what it is and his heart thunks, with pain and happiness, at seeing his mother in a more three dimensional form. He just holds the stone for a moment or two more before putting it aside and going to find Jess.

When he hears her heartbeat in her room, he knocks gently at the door and leans against the wall, wishing he was already there, in the room, with his arms around her. He's just... filled up with so many things, and he wants to hold her more than anything.

"Jess?"

She'd heard him come home, heard those steady footsteps lead to the bedroom, then heard silence for longer than she knew what to do with. In those moments, she was already chewing herself out for it, wondering if she'd done it wrong, calling herself an idiot for trying something she didn't really have any experience in dabbling with. But she knew that Clark loved his mom. She could see it in the way he lit up when he talked about her and what his home was like. There was a fondness there that let her know that whatever she did or didn't know about Martha Kent, she'd given Clark a very solid, firm base on what a loving relationship was like, and that was... good. That probably helped make him the man he was today, and that was something she herself could be grateful for.

When she heard the knock at her door and her name, she jerked a bit, looking at the door and feeling that anticipation bubble up a bit more. "Yeah?" God, she hoped he'd liked it.

He hears the jerk, and that means he holds off on actually opening the door. After a moment, though-

"May I come in?"

He sounds... all right. But there's emotion in his voice, something barely held back and contained. Nothing harsh or angry; something soft and hard to define.

Shit. He hated it. Or she crossed a line. Or... fuck. "Yeah, of course." She wanted to say that he could come in her room whenever he wanted, but that sounded dumb right now. Too blase. And when he sounded soft like that, like he was trying to control something, she didn't want to be blase. She shifted so her feet were over the edge of the bed, resting on the floor, sitting and facing the door and trying not to look as nervous as she felt.

Clark opens the door and his face is unreadable, but his eyes are focused right on her. It's clearly an effort to hold himself back, to go at a normal human speed, but he moves across the floor and immediately, immediately wraps her in his arms and kisses her cheek before resting his forehead against her temple.

"Thank you," and his voice is raw, but the gratitude and just how very touched he is is unmistakable.

Relief is instantaneous, enough so that she feels light-headed, but her arms go around him and she lets out a shaky breath. "I wasn't sure... I mean, you don't have a picture." And Clark was sentimental. If he could have had one, she felt he would have. But with nothing but a cold, sleeping face to take a picture of, she didn't think that was what he wanted.

Well, great. Now she was going to owe Alan a favor.

He doesn't answer, choosing instead to turn his head to kiss her cheek, soft and sweet, and loosen his arms just a little so it isn't quite so, well, desperate. He's nuzzling her gently as he speaks.

"It's beautiful. And you're... wonderful."

He tries not to heap praise on her, since he knows it makes her uncomfortable and she argues that she doesn't deserve it, but... he can't help it. His heart is so heavy with warmth he can't restrain his words.

"You're brain damaged," she muttered back, but it was quiet and she had a smile as she said it, hand lifting to comb through his hair as she let out a sigh. He liked it. Good. She'd managed to do something good for someone that deserved more good in their life. It didn't erase all of her sins, hell, it didn't even make a dent, but if she could do something for him that wasn't entirely shitty and didn't involve him having to take care of her, that was a good day in her books.

"I, ah... Alan gave me the sketch to work off of. You should thank him too."

"I will," and he certainly would, of course, but right now he was thanking her for the beautiful gift. Seeing his mother, like that, alive and happy in the portrait... it'd gone a long way to easing something that'd been tight in his chest since... well, since he'd woken up. And the fact that Jess had thought of something so kind, so meaningful-

"I hadn't even wondered how you'd know what she looked like. But the picture is perfect."

The smile grew a little more, Jess ducking her head to hide it against his shoulder. "It seemed like that's what everyone around here was doing. Gifts and stuff." Because yes, she needed an explanation for why she'd gone and gotten something so sappy for him. But she really was glad he liked it, her hand resting on his chest and patting there. "Figured you could use something... I dunno. I just... wanted to thank you. For being here. And putting up with me."

He can't help a little chuckle as he considers what he'd been planning and doing for the, er, holiday, as it were. It has him leaning in to kiss her cheek again.

"I call it 'enjoying your company' but to each their own."

He kisses her once more before shifting a little to settle on the bed beside her, still holding her.

"I was actually arranging... well, a dinner, for the two of us. A very special menu. Which day would be best for you?

"So I can thank you for being here."

"A dinner, huh?" Of course. Because Clark was the type to do that sort of thing. Flowers. Music. Candles. And damn her if she didn't find herself thinking that was kind of a sweet thing. She leaned in against him when he sat beside her, tipping her head up so she could keep her nose buried in the crook of his neck. Right there, he smelled... delicious. "Mmm, you pick a night and I'll make it free."

Their schedules were pretty fluid, and with Jessica being a 'pick my own jobs' type of girl, she could do things at her own pace. Her hand moved to find one of his, sliding her fingers between his and letting out a soft sigh. "You're ruining my edge, Kent."

For Clark

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Thesa Station

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