comesfrompain | [ ic inbox ]

[ Annnnd: busted. Jefferson freezes in his tracks, looking at Rumlow with some alarm at having been caught in the middle of his smooth, stealthy exit. And even though the other man's wearing far less than Jefferson, what with the robe and shorts, he's the one who feels exposed, because the sun's out, the lights are on, and he's hardly presentable. And the scar... It wouldn't bother him so much, its exposure, if he actually knew where, with absolute certainty, it came from.

But, as it couldn't have been the work of a fantasy executioner... Sometimes, he thinks it might've been self inflicted, somehow. During one of his episodes. ]

Oh-- It's all right. [ He casts a quick glance at the door. ] I should probably leave. Thank you both for the hospitality. I... wasn't myself last night.

[ Or he was more himself than he'd been in a while. ]

Nonsense.

[Clapping a hand on Jefferson's shoulder, Rumlow gives him an even look. What kind of host would he be, just dragging you to his house only to kick you out in the morning? Besides, they really have to get what happened last night out in the air. Last thing Rumlow wants is to screw things up with Kenzi.

He looks Jefferson over again. The guy looks panicked, as if he was caught sneaking out of someone's daughter's room. That's about when he notices the scar. He's not sure why he hadn't before, it's not exactly subtle. Even looks like it goes all the way around. Garroting maybe? It's fucking awful. Jeez. He tries not to let his eyes linger, ain't exactly polite to stare.

It'll just have to be something to question later. A lot later.]

Besides, you take off now, I guarantee Kenzi's just gonna follow you back to your place until you've eaten thirty pancakes.

THIRTY-FIVE!

[She calls from the kitchen, clearly able to hear you guys because you're being loud and the tablets she took for her headache haven't exactly kicked in yet. She sounds chipper enough, despite the hangover. It wasn't even that bad this morning, despite 90% of what she drank being saturated with green food colouring and probably not fit for human consumption. If she'd thrown up, it would have looked like a scene from the ghostbusters with that creepy, slimy dude. Gross.

She pokes her head out from the kitchen, smiling warmly at Jefferson with a giant plate of chocolate chip pancakes.]

Seriously, sit down. You gotta get something in your stomach, and I totally owe you for tea the other day.

[There's apparently no hard feelings... or she's an amazing liar and she poisoned the pancakes. WHO KNOWS!]

[ Jefferson would be perfectly happy to not talk about last night. And while Brock may not try to let his gaze linger on the scar, Jefferson knows he's looking, and he draws away a little to prepare to insist on his goodbyes. ]

I don't think I could eat--

[ Oh. There's Kenzi. Wearing... the same shirt he used to sleep in, when he slept at the tea shop. There's something they have in common. Along with... kissing the same man.

Her husband. Who's right here.

Still, Jefferson's about to politely decline. But the smell of breakfast is tempting, and as if on cue, his stomach actually grumbles. Kind of hard to pretend he's not hungry now. So, he sighs and nods. ]

Okay. Thanks.

[ He'll just follow their lead. EVEN IF HE FEELS EXTREMELY AWKWARD. ]

Promise we're not just fattening you up.

[Rumlow remarks with a laugh. He looks down at the tall pile of pancakes Kenzi's presenting. Complete guilty pleasure, but he'll do another workout at the gym to make up for it. Either way, they smell delicious. He beckons for Jefferson with a nod, placing a hand on Kenzi's shoulder to steer them both towards the dining room.

He'll wait until after they've eaten to bring up the subject. You know, when they're docile from the food coma. It's a sound strategy, as far as Rumlow's concerned. He gets them both into the next room and pulls out Kenzi's chair before sitting in his own. More of a practical thing, since she's got a plate of food, but she's welcome to think he's being a gentleman.]

You sleep okay? [He asks Jefferson, once they're seated.] You seemed pretty much ready to pass out once I got you upstairs.

[WHAT A GENTLEMAN! Practicality be damned. The pancakes are placed in the middle of the table, near the syrup and butter, so everyone can help themselves. She's totally making moon-eyes at Rumlow as she folds her legs up under her on the chair and takes up her mug of still-warm coffee to let Jefferson and Rumlow get their share first. It's polite, right? That's like... the polite thing to do? Look, she's not used to having house guests or being a hostess or any of this shit, she's just going off what she's seen on TV lately to supplement her memory loss.]

Pretty sure you did pass the fuck out, Dude. You were goooone. You made me look tipsy, which is ... impressive.

[And also a little concerning?]

[ You say that, Rumlow, but Jefferson isn't so sure. You two have been alarmingly kind to him, and now he feels like there's a giant spotlight shining on him as they all sit down and make with the polite questions.

He helps himself to a couple of pancakes, spreading a little bit of butter on them, as he keeps his eyes focused on the task at hand and not on them. ] I slept fine. I don't, uh... remember much from after you... [ CARRIED ME IN YOUR ARMS. Because that certainly was a thing that happened. He's about to add that he doesn't normally drink like that, except he's pretty sure that he does, since that was how his accident happened.

So he opts for a different excuse instead, one that might make him seem like 'disaster' isn't just his default mode of being. ]

It's been a rough couple of months.

Yeah, last night seemed real rough.

[Understatement. Rumlow's just glad to have turned it around. He can't really blame Jefferson for being on edge now, he thinks, loading up his plate with a short stack of pancakes and buttering them. He glances to Kenzi while he reaches for the syrup.]

Before I put you to bed, yeah. Glad you got some shut eye. [He's a little worried Jefferson might have been kept up by the noise. They tried to be quiet. Or at least, he did.] Hopefully a little food will get rid of whatever headache you might have. I got no idea how much you had to drink, but you were pretty tipsy.

[Another understatement, but Rumlow likes remembering the little smiles the kid wore. He's hoping the breakfast would bring them back. He suddenly remembers.]

You want some coffee?

[ Jefferson lets out a scoff, but he nods at the offer of coffee. He could certainly use some, even if tea tends to be his drink of choice. ]

I've got no idea, either. [ He cringes a little after admitting that, like perhaps it's not the wisest thing to say. After all, he's trying to make himself look like less of a mess, not more. ]

I probably would've been tossed in jail to sober up if you hadn't rescued me. [ He offers a quick, strained smile in gratitude, then gets to cutting off a bite of pancake. ]

I hope it didn't ruin your night. Or cut it short.

[Kenzi's brows knit together at all this talk of rough times and jail and needing to be rescued. He did call Rumlow his hero, she remembers that part clear as day. She can't get the pained expression he had in the tea shop out of her head or the look he gave her when she told him she ought to get back home.]

You didn't ruin anything, okay? That party was lame anyway. We had more fun after we left. [coughsuperhotsexcough.]

Look. I'm gonna like... kick the elephant in the room in the nuts right now. I'm not pissed off. I'm not out to get you. I'm not harboring some crazy-bitch resentment and no one is at fault. You've been through hell and the motel you're staying at is a piece of shit and I just want you to be okay because we're friends.

[At least, she thinks they are. They're probably friends. I mean, most likely friends. Kenzi tries to smile as reassuringly as possible before snatching up a few pancakes for herself.]

[Rumlow's in the midst of pouring Jefferson a cup of coffee when Kenzi just throws that out there. He coughs and looks at them, wondering if Jefferson is more relieved or mortified. He's glad, of course, that she's standing by her statement from the night before, but he swears she doesn't have a subtle bone in her body.

He ignores the urge to make a joke about it in his own head.

Returning with the fresh mug, he offers it to Jefferson and gestures towards the sugar and small cup of cream, in case he doesn't take it black. He sits and nudges Kenzi lightly with his foot. Under the table. Where it's subtle.]

What Kenzi's saying is, you ain't at fault for kissing me. Neither of us are mad. We get it. [He resumes eating his pancakes before they get cold. He swallows the mouthful.] You mentioned your ex, yeah? You were drinking, maybe thinking about him. Pretty natural to go for someone being nice.

[Another forkful of pancake. Chew, swallow.]

If you promise not to make off with our stuff, though God knows, the decor is less than stellar, you can crash here.

[ Jefferson looks at Kenzi for a beat too long, brows raised, before he actually cracks a smile at her total lack of subtlety. Well, it's good to know they had fun.

He accepts the coffee with a murmured thanks, proceeding to load it up with cream and sugar, despite how much he judged Kenzi for doing that to her tea. It's different, all right? Coffee's bold and overpowering in the worst ways, and he needs to cover that up.

Before he can take a sip, Kenzi launches into her spiel, followed by Rumlow, and it's a lot to take in right now, because this kindness, this offer of friendship, feels real in a way that few other things have in months. And once more, it seems to soothe this persistent ache and loneliness inside of him.

And then they offer him a place to stay? Jefferson looks between Brock and Kenzi in stunned disbelief, and for a few moments, he can't seem to find the right words. It's like he chokes on them, but not... in a miserable way. It's almost like he's happy and overwhelmed.

But it passes, and soon his face drops and he shakes his head, his fingers twitching, tapping on the table before he pulls his hand down to his lap. He can't accept. They don't know what they're getting into, what sort of mad person he is. It wouldn't be fair to them. ]

You hardly know me.

Jefferson, we hardly know anyone. And between the three of us? I'm pretty sure I ain't crazy to say that's fucking weird.

[Rumlow says, deciding if Kenzi's going to forgo subtlety, he's got little choice but to do the same. He won't go too into depth, but just enough to reassure the guy -- this might seem odd, but this is what they've got to work with. He takes another bite of his pancakes, leveling a look at the guy. He can see that nervous energy, and Hell, he can't blame him.

This is a lot. And he's right. They are strangers, more or less. But there's one thing Rumlow does remember real well: you work better as a team. And while he might not know Jefferson's strengths, he's damn sure he's right along with them in as far as how bizarre this place really is.]

I won't stop you if you want to brave it alone, but we're offering. Right, Kenzi?

[What? Oh. Right. Kenzi currently has half an entire pancake coated in syrup in her mouth right now and all she can do is nod at first. Give her a sec to chew and swallow, okay? SHE WAS UNPREPARED!]

I don't even know me, B-Rock has a point. Seriously. We have the room, you were dying to get out of your old place, just take it. Besides, if you try and pull any homicidal shit on me, I'd give you such a shiv!

[Kenzi's not scared of ANYTHING! Least of all the super nice tea shop man that helped her out when she needed it.]

Also I'm working on the decorating. Give me like... three months, tops.

[ It's a compelling point, but it's not quite what Jefferson had been getting at, so he shakes his head, a little frantic in his movement. ]

That's not what I--

[ He can hear the agitated edge in his voice, and he stops himself, taking a breath to calm down and make sure he sounds measured and even. ]

I'm not. Well.

[ As if the ranting last night wasn't an indicator. Or the mysterious scar on his neck. Or the way he can't even seem to function normally unless he's forcing an act.

It isn't something he's admitted to anyone yet, at least not while sober. Usually, if he mentioned his own unhappiness, he attributed it to his accident, or the breakup, or anything else. Not that there's something wrong inside of him. But at least he manages now to finally be honest. Perhaps that's what friendship's about.

If he can really call them friends. ]

I'm sick. I shouldn't... be around you.

Edited 2017-03-19 04:07 (UTC)

[The way Jefferson sounds has Rumlow thinking it's something mental he's struggling with. And if it's got anything to do with that scar, he'd put money down it's related to trauma. He knows combat, he knows what it can do to a person. That's why they've got groups for it, for vets who have seen war. Might not be what Jefferson's been through, but there's no way there ain't some lasting impression -- combined with the weirdness of this place? It's a nasty combination.

Rumlow shakes his head. He nudges Kenzi a little, thinking maybe threatening to shiv the guy might not be the best time. Besides, he doesn't really get the dangerous vibe from Jefferson at all. Or maybe it's just his own confidence with his abilities that keeps him from worrying. Either way.]

We all got demons, kid. Better to deal with them somewhere safe.

[He reaches out, setting a hand on Jefferson's shoulder. He keeps away from his neck, just in case. Gives him a squeeze though, meant to be reassuring, grounding. Trying to bring him down from the flight response that's clearly being activated.]

Quit nudging me, I'm being so supportive right now!

[And still SO VERY subtle... wow. Kenzi is amazing at getting all these low-key hints, Rumlow, she's a real keeper.]

You're not gonna get any better in a motel by yourself. At least here we can feed you-- ... Brock can feed you. Plus, on site laundry? Nice plus. Also, you can back me up about turning the garage into a ball pit.

[She's joking! Mostly. Either way, she's beaming at him like she was in the shop. He shouldn't have to stick it out alone. They have a better chance of getting through things together. She might now know him that well, but she trusts him. He feels real, which is more than she can say for some of the people around here.

Also, he looks a lot like her cousin, now that she thinks about it...

Gotta look out for family.]

[ He's trying to hold that together, but to be honest, he barely manages on a good day. Right now, it's like he finally has a chance to get some relief from everything that's been building up inside of him, and he can't help it, he can feel his eyes prickling with tears he's making an effort not to shed. Blinking rapidly, Jefferson looks down at his lap, and his hands, which he'd started wringing together.

He sniffs, and it's harder to keep from totally falling apart, but Jefferson manages a weak laugh and wipes at his eyes, his voice nearly breaking. ] You called me 'kid' again...

[ Maybe it's an odd observation to make-- or a pointless one, if nothing else. But it sort of makes him feel like... okay. Maybe he does belong here, with the two of them, at least for now.

Sniffing again, Jefferson scrubs at his eyes with his sleeve, feeling foolish and childish. But he's smiling, at least. ]

I'm not so sure about a ball pit. [ SORRY, KENZ. ] But I can help you decorate?

[ It's some small offer, so that counts, right? ]

Edited 2017-03-20 03:03 (UTC)

[Aw jeez. Rumlow hopes Jefferson doesn't cry. He's no good with crying. Maybe Kenzi is? Oh, there's a laugh. Okay, crisis averted. Rumlow offers a smile in return, encouraging that smile of Jefferson's to grow. He leans back again, hand slipping away from the guy's shoulder.

Rumlow peers over at Kenzi, giving her a Look and shaking his head.]

Ball pit aside. Decorating would be great. Mostly 'cause this place looks like someone's grandma took over and I can already tell you got a better sense of fashion than most of the people here.

[It's like they're stuck in another decade. It's fucking -- right. Just like so many other things. Weird. But he's not going to linger on that. He's just glad they've managed to convince Jefferson. Kid seriously needs some help, and Rumlow is real curious to know what he does.]

[Kenzi? Good with crying? Rumlow, you're hilarious. She doesn't do hysterical, it's just not in her wheelhouse. Crying is something she's not equipped to handle.

But for Jefferson? She'd make an attempt. He seems okay, though. Just some emotional bullshit bubbling over. Unresolved stuff with the ex probably had him close to boiling point for weeks, this was just another drop in the metaphorical pot. She looks sympathetic enough, she's been there a few times and had to cover it up before anyone caught on-- or... so she thinks. Hard to remember.]

I know your shop wasn't all you, but I would definitely appreciate your particular brand of skills. We're gonna Delia Deets this shiz! Only... you know, slightly less terrifying. Good-terrifying. Chic as all fuck.

[Rumlow gets his own look and tiny head shake,] But somehow manly? Also?

[Dude owns a gym. She's gotta make some compromises.]

Basically, we're super psyched to have you. Promise we aren't total weirdos. At least, I'm not a total weirdo. This guy, on the other hand...

Delia Deetz? Is she... someone in town? [ Oh no, a reference he doesn't understand. Educate yourself, Jefferson.

But his spirits seem to be lifted now. He's smiling more easily, and there's not as much tension in him. ]

That's a shame. I like weirdos. [ Aww yeah, he's joking again. ] And thank you. Both of you. I don't know why-- [ No. Stop. Don't go into another self loathing, 'I don't deserve kindness' spiral. ] Just. Thanks.

[Rumlow feels like it's a reference to something, but for the life of him, he can't remember. Someday his memories will come back from the war. Well, at least Jefferson is looking more lively. Have another encouraging smile.

Rumlow shovels another bite of pancake into his mouth and gestures towards Jefferson's own pile. Better eat up, or they're going to get cold. He washes his mouthful down with coffee.]

Don't worry about it. As far as weirdos go, think the weirdest thing about me is the fact that I like waking up early. That and rescuing good looking guys from skeevy motels.

[Rumlow grins, then peeks over at Kenzi. He shrugs. Well it's true. He is good looking.]

I wish. [Her general knowledge is filling itself in waaaay too slowly, but she remembers about THREE entire movies now and a few TV shows. It makes referencing pop culture in conversation a bit of a gamble.

She makes a face at Rumlow when he peeks over at her. Objectively, yes, he is good looking, but she can't shake the Bucky resemblance when she looks at him anymore and if she admitted that she agrees with Rumlow, SHE'D BE ADMITTING THAT SHE THINKS HER COUSIN IS HOT. NO THANK YOU.]

Seriously, he wakes up soooooooooooooo early. I'm talking retired old man waiting on the porch for his paper early. It's insane. He's gone before I can even get a bowl of honey bun-buns and the sleep outta my eyes. Who needs to work out at 6am? NO ONE!

[She's smirking, so obviously she's not that put out by it. Rumlow stirring early in the morning means she's never tempted to sleep in and be late for work. Okay, she's still tempted, but it hasn't happened yet.]

... Also you can hook me up with a sweet, wholesale tea discount.

[ At Rumlow's urging, Jefferson starts to take another mouthful of pancake-- nearly choking when Rumlow calls him good-looking again. In front of his wife. And given the weird face Kenzi makes, Jefferson's not too keen on keeping that joke going-- if it is indeed a joke at all. He just takes a sip of coffee to keep from getting fluffy pancake crumbs caught in his throat. ]

That is entirely too early in the day for anything. [ Another sip of coffee before he admits: ] But I have to be up before 6, too, on the days I'm the one who opens the shop.

[ He really wishes he could be more of a hands-off boss, but right now he just doesn't have the manpower. Anyway, after getting some more pancake down, his stomach suddenly demanding more and more, Jefferson laughs. ]

Only if you promise not to load the tea up with milk and sugar.

[ He says, after having done the same to his coffee. ]

[Rumlow doesn't really like waking up early either, it's just habit. Especially since he prefers to stay up late. Means he usually gets about five hours of sleep on a good night, but it is what it is. So he shrugs and sympathizes with Jefferson on waking up early to open.]

You try serving and telling your commander you ain't getting up before 9.

[It's a good-natured ribbing, he knows Kenzi is far from the military type. Though it's interesting that Rumlow only vaguely remembers anything about his service. He remembers SHIELD clearly, but how he ended up joining is a blur. Maybe it'll come back in time.]

Anyway, I won't say no to tea, but coffee'll always be my true love. Sorry, kid.

[Rumlow chuckles and slips out of his chair. He's done with his breakfast, so he sets his utensils on the plate, finishes off his coffee and starts into the kitchen. Flipping on the tap, he washes up, letting Kenzi and Jefferson continue their conversation about tea or whatever.]

[ ic inbox ]

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