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

He raises an eyebrow at that assertion.

"I don't talk that much."

He doesn't like to, anyway. Sometimes, with Jess, the words just flow, like he's back at home, easy and comfortable.

"Or I hope I don't."

"You do, and I like it." She gave him a small smile at that. It had progressed from her sitting on her chair and him on the couch to her curling up against his side and feeling the rumble of his voice through his chest while he talked. Again, it was this odd sort of comfortable she was starting to get used to, which worried her that it could go away at any moment.

She pulled off another piece of chicken, grinning at him before popping it in her mouth. "You have a nice voice."

And if she's sitting that close, he'll carefully start to let his fingers drift through her hair.

"Not something I've heard people mention before but I'll take the compliment."

She leaned forward enough to set the plate on the table, wiping her fingers off on a napkin before leaning back against him. There was that solid warmth, the heavy thumping of his heartbeat, and this... peace. She wouldn't try explaining it to anyone else because they'd just look at her like she was insane, but Clark had this aura of peacefulness around him. Or maybe it was just something she felt when she was lying against him. But it made her feel safe. And like life might slow down enough for her to notice things. "It's a good voice. All deep and warm. Matches its owner."

"Well," he says, keeping his voice low, trying to keep the moment, the peace, "As long as I'm not shallow and cold. No one likes that. It sounds like a puddle."

"There might be an argument to be made for shallow, what with your immense appreciation of my ass, but cold? Not possible." She tucked her arm around his waist, tipping her head up to look up under his chin. "I wish I could do more for your mom. I mean, that they'd wake her up or something."

"Now are you trying to criticize my attraction to you or my enjoyment of you as a person? I mean, you're wrong either way, but still..." He's just going to keep petting her hair and holding her. He's quiet for a moment before answering the last thing she said.

"And she'll wake up when she wakes up. But having that image of her... it helps. So does the fact that it came from you."

"And Alan," she reminded him. She didn't like taking all the praise when she hadn't done all the work. She owed the man now, and she knew it. And damn her if she wasn't going to find a way to erase that marker sooner than later.

The light patch of hair on his chest tickled her cheek, and she turned to nip at him. "So, is this your lounging around outfit now?" She poked at the towel, giving the edge a tug. "I like it."

"This is what I happened to be wearing when we settled like this," is his answer before he leans up to kiss her hair. He lets out a soft breath before continuing with half a smile on his face.

"And I'll thank Alan when I see him. Right now, I'm thanking you."

"This should definitely be your lounging around outfit. At least until I can convince you that this is a naked Kent household." She grinned, patting at his chest before moving to right herself properly. "Consider that your whatever holiday gift thing. That's as thoughtful as I get."

"It's pretty thoughtful," he points out, because it is. Not everyone would have seen just how much the loss of his mother in his life was affecting him, how lost he felt sometimes without her.

She turned to him, tucking her hair behind her ear and debating on what to say. Just how much to say, what with all the things that rolled around in her mind when she thought about him. "It's my job to notice things. Or, it was." Moving to stand, she picked up her plate and went to go set it in the kitchen. She was trying to take better care of cleaning up after herself, of leaving less for him to have to deal with in terms of Hurricane Jessica.

Standing there in the kitchen, plate in the sink, she stared down at it and thought about him. About what he'd lost. What he had. What she felt... "And maybe I give a shit about how you feel," she said quietly, though she knew he'd hear it.

There are a lot of things he considers saying to that, a lot of responses that run through his mind. Eventually, what comes out is soft.

"Come back once you're done, please?"

She tries not to smile, but it's hard not to, and she makes quick work of cleaning up after herself. Drying her hands off, she walks back over to the couch, seeing him sitting there, mostly dry now, but still in that towel. Still looking all... Clark-like. "What is it about you, huh? I can tell everyone else to fuck off, but I turn into this... gooey thing with you."

"Alien," is the deadpan, simple answer that he's giving. But he's got an arm stretched out, beckoning faintly with one hand.

She moves back against him, finding that perfect little nook that was just for her. Or, that she could pretend was just for her. She tucks his arm around her side, leaning into him and breathing in that clean, male scent as she lets out a soft sigh. "Pretty sure that's not it."

Lifting her head, she looks up at him, finding those bright blue eyes and smiling. "You know, don't you...?" What she wanted to say. What she was trying to say.

"How many aliens do you know?" he points out before leaning down and very gently, very sweetly, kissing her. He keeps it short, drawing back to look her in the eyes as he nods. Yes, he knows. And no, she doesn't have to say it. He won't say it either, not until she wants to. But... it's not as if there's nothing in his eyes. It's not as if he doesn't have something not to say either.

"Well, there's this furry little talking raccoon who swears he's not a raccoon..." She grinned, licking her lips after he kissed her and trying not to feel like some idiot high school girl with a crush. But this wasn't a crush. This was something she'd been fighting not to feel, and yet here she was. Neck deep and sinking fast. "You staying in tonight?"

"Wasn't planning on going anywhere, no," he admits with a shrug. And he seems pretty content to stay where he is right this moment, to be honest. "You?"

"No plans, no. Kind of wasn't sure what to do after giving you your present. Didn't want to assume anything since I wasn't sure how you'd like it." But here? Here was good. Here was safe and warm and goddammit, here made her feel things.

"Did you think I wouldn't like it?" he asks quietly, though the idea is ridiculous. Ridiculous or not, though, he'd seen the tension in her, felt the echoes of it. She'd been worried. He wouldn't mock her for it.

She shrugged, something he'd probably feel. "I didn't know. Wasn't sure if you'd find it presumptuous or nosy or something. I've never met her. I don't know anything really about your family, other than the little bits I've heard. I know you love her, but..." She sighed, resting her head more solidly against him. "I'm not good at family shit. Or gifts."

"Clearly you're getting better at it," is his response to that, sweetened with a soft kiss to her hair. Conversational, as kisses go. "If it helps, I'm pretty happy with most gifts. But this one definitely knocked it out of the park."

He follows with a shrug.

"I've told you more than almost anyone knows, anyone in this world anyway. Privacy is about... protecting the people I care about.

"You're not someone I feel the need to protect myself from. Which puts you in the other category."

She tipped her head up to him at that, a crease between her brows as she looked at him. "Are you trying to tell me you feel 'protective' of me? That's... hilarious. I don't need to be protected." It came out without her even thinking about it, and she realized, belatedly, how it might sound. "I can take care of myself, is what I mean, Clark. Been doing it my whole life."

And look how well she'd done so far. Sad trombone noise.

"Of course you can take care of yourself," and the way he says it, the idea that he's placating her or mocking her or that she wasn't entirely capable is just... impossible. He believes in her, and it's in every word.

"But that doesn't mean I don't want to protect you. Just because I believe in you doesn't mean I'd let you face... well, whatever came at you, alone."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject