open | we always are together

[morphogenia]

WHO: Kamala Khan
WHERE: House 6
WHEN: Dec. 13th; late afternoon aka KAMALA'S BIRTHDAY PARTY
OPEN TO: residents of house six, assorted cr of Kamala and the other house six residents - basically everyone who knows Kamala, Frank, and Jessica and is on good terms with them. It's basically everyone.
WARNINGS: Possible mentions of horror settings or past trauma since Kamala does live with Frank Castle and Jessica Jones who are their own warning. Honestly this is a rated G birthday log.

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She wakes up super stoked to be alive. It's not unusual for her honestly. Kamala is more excited than usual if only because it's not every day you get superheroes coming over for your birthday. Granted she's seeing them more as ordinary people who do incredible things sometimes. That's a positive change as far as she's concerned. It doesn't change the fact that Kamala from like age seven and up would have seen this as a dream come true. Who is she to question the wisdom of tiny Kamala?

She spends a decent portion of the day (following breakfast) getting ready for guests. She styles her new, shorter hair cut as elegantly as she can, dresses in the hunter green dress and pants outfit given to her by the Observers because screw them it's pretty and they can't ruin it with what they pulled after.

By the time she finishes, it's time to greet guests and see what Frank's done with the rest of the house while she's been hiding out in her room to obsess over her appearance. She'll go around greeting whoever shows up, shoving food at them, and generally be grateful they came. It's her seventeenth birthday. She's away from her home, childhood friends, and family. Having anyone here today means a lot more than she lets on. It's about the only thing allowing her to feel happiness instead dwelling on what she's missing.

(ooc; top levels will be posted by Frank in like five minutes for setting info. please hold for those! feel free to tag those or make your own starter once they're posted. I'm flexible.)

Comments

[underachievement]

Her scoff is smothered by the pillow. Needlessly, considering his sharp ears, Jess reconfirms, "Yeah." Obviously. She'd love to fall asleep that easily, while that pleasantly drunk, but if she's not binging herself into a blackout state, it can be up to an hour before she's out. And that's if insomnia doesn't come for a visit. She might fall asleep faster with him but she doesn't want to jump to such a sentimental conclusion based on two instances. More data is a double-edged sword, if it turns out those weren't coincidences. So was her proposition and Jess regrets it as much as she doesn't, like she knew she would. Getting stuff off your chest means exposing your heart. It's a small, shrivelled and shrouded target; naturally, Jessica Jones chooses to go flashing it at the professional sniper.

[oorah]

He bites into his lip as he throws the pants over his shoulder and turns to make his way back into the hall headed for the bathroom. He wants to ask if this is still happening, but she'd tell him to get out if it wasn't. Not to mention, he remembers how shitty it had felt when she asked him to stay with her after the moth incident. Sometimes, he just has to take these things for granted. He's not at fault if he takes her word at face value. Aloe hops right up onto the bed with her like he's keeping the spot warm until Frank gets back while Bruno pads off with him.

"I'll be right back," he manages apologetically. He's as exhausted as she looks and he knows on some level that they both need this. Here's only hoping it works instead of blowing up in their faces as things typically do. Five minutes later he manages to pee, brush his teeth and change into just the bright teal pants, leaving his clothes from the day in a careless heap by the door as he softly clicks it shut. Bruno decides that's his bed for the night and faceplants into the laundry pile as Frank heads for the bed. Here goes nothing, right? He signs for the pit bull to get off the bed but he only shifts to the foot of it and he decides he's too tired to make him listen better, sliding in under the blankets and laying flat on his back a moment. His mind is racing as he tries to consider all the ways this could go. Hopefully, her safety bubble isn't going to make an appearance tonight, and that's only one of a multitude of complications that could arise.

Frank turns over on his side towards her, tucking an arm behind his head and heaving out a soft sigh. "Hey," he manages super lamely.

[underachievement]

Once he's out of the room, Jess rolls onto her back. She listens to the sounds of the old fashioned house as it settles, and the plumbing as it rattles the pipes like a shiver travelling a skeleton. Jess does her best to tune out enough that her senses lose track of the sound's direction, trying to fool herself, for one second, that she's back in her apartment. It doesn't work but it's more pleasant than contemplating what Frank is or isn't contemplating as he quietly moves around.

She slips her feet out from under the dog when he curls up on one of them. Jess shifts onto her side to be more comfortable, bunching the pillow under her head and opening her eyes. The stilted offering that comes from him soothes some of her nerves and unsettles others at the same time. Jess is objectively not great at sleep but she's a hundred times worse at talking. And so does he. Maybe one time out of ten they'll cancel each other out.

"Hey," she says back, voice low. "Tired?"

[oorah]

There's the slightest smile when she returns his greeting, and he nods. He's fucking exhausted, but he has been for weeks and still has only slept a few hours scattered here or there.

"Always." The urge to stay up and savor this moment is there too, his foot brushing her ankle as he shifts to find a comfortable position in the small bed. Though somehow not as small as the ones they found in Reims. "You?"

[underachievement]

'Always' hits close to home for her too. Whether she's awake for days or falls dead asleep in the middle of the afternoon, the irregularity of it is the only part of sleep she lets herself get used to. If she can fall asleep, she can do it anywhere, but if she can't, there's no particular place she lays her head down where she can bank on it being more likely. Surely it's like that for everyone here.

"Yeah." The soft scrape of his cold skin stokes a shiver from her core. Jess hitches the blanket over her shoulder and then slips her hand under her pillow to warm up. His smile passes onto her, smaller and paler, and furtively vanishes as she voices very quietly, "Thanks."

[oorah]

The rejoinder gets a quizzical look, trying to hold off asking for as long as he can. With his track record, she's lucky he lasts ten whole seconds.

"For what?"

[underachievement]

"I don't want to think about that night anymore," she admits, sounding sleepier than she is. That's a better reason to have her eyes closed than because saying something real is too overwhelming while staring him in the face. "Now there's this one." She can have it at the ready and paste over that dreary, frightening night the next time it invades her thoughts. Even now, it's scratching to get in, reminding her the night's not over yet. But if she does have nightmares, he physically won't be able to hold her, so she won't end up hating herself nearly as much. And his danger sense will give him the heads up to roll away. It's all good.

[oorah]

He wants to reach out for her now, when she says that, but he doesn't. Frank knows instantly what night she's referring to, or at least, he thinks he does. There were some choice ones to sift through.

"Then I should thank you, too."

[underachievement]

Jess might not have minded the contact but she's glad he didn't initiate any. It seems like less of a big deal like that, being honest after everything; believing they've gone through it and aren't still mired in the middle, unbeknownst to them.

"Don't thank me yet," she says dryly. His sensitive ear won't miss the humorous crackle underlying her tone.

[oorah]

"Okay," he agrees easily. Perhaps too much so. Bemusement dances in his gaze anew. "Need a lullaby?"

[underachievement]

Apparently there's a chuckle or two left in her because that chases them out. Normally, Jess would emphatically decline, but there's no eye contact to navigate and no delusion of impressing her. He's acting the fool and she's feeling like less of one for it. "Thrill me."

[oorah]

He opens his mouth to ask if she's serious, but then remembers that never goes well for him and instead scoots a little closer as if that could insulate him from any embarrassment this might bring him. His voice is always soft, but it's even softer as he sings, and perhaps a bit pitchier than she might expect, but he's decently in tune as he gives her his rendition of this American classic. It's a song he used to sing Lisa, an honest-to-goodness lullaby, but right now it brings him no pain to share with her and that's a victory unto itself however it happens to be received.

[underachievement]

Jess remembers the words, recognizing the song at a lag. She hasn't heard it since she was a teenager, lost to time on a mix CD or an early iPod. The corner of her mouth cricks fondly. She repositions her shoulders and settles her head closer to the edge of the pillow as she listens. To his credit, it's in tune, though she doesn't know why she was expecting otherwise. It still sounds particular, if not necessarily peculiar, when sung in his voice. The melancholy is different. Rougher. That works for her, though Jess reminds herself to poke a little fun of him later. Curling inward for warmth, her knee presses into his leg. Then she bites gently on the inside of her cheek, chewing the vestiges of her smile away. (Or who knows how long it will take to fade?)

[oorah]

That warmth is enough to have him slipping under as the song tapers off, happy to prolong the ribbing until whenever they're conscious next. He's already feeling like this might be a good, long rest if how boneless he already feels is any indication.

"Night, Jess," he manages to murmur in that same gravelly tone he did that night in their tent under the rainfall in Reims, and then he's lost. A pure, blank sleep awaits him with not even one shadow or inkling of a bad memory turned dreamscape awaiting him. He'll sleep for easily ten hours if she allows it, especially after all the prepwork that went into tonight.