1965-01-19 - Up On The Roof
Summary: These things are always a mess.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
douglas jay 

Doug is on the rooftop, looking at — a grimy brick building nearby. He's pulled on a pair of gloves and some earmuffs, and just as the scene dawns, he's flicking something out over the rooftop. Despite (or because of) the crisp air, his cheeks are ruddy and flushed, and he looks warm.

Jebediah is sent off to set up the stage like he was asked and wait for Sam to come in. Jay walks up the stairs to the roof, seeking Doug out for…he's not really sure. A talking to? To punch him in the head? It really sort of depends. The heavy safety door opens up and Jay steps out, his hands in his pockets, rounding about on the linguist.

Doug has his hands son the rooftop, and he's looking down over it. He looks up briefly, but all he says is, "Hi." Then he's looking down at the grimy alley.

Sliding up along side Doug, Jay turns his back to the 'city scape' Doug is looking over. Facing the blond, resting his hips backward against the ledge of the roof. "Hey." Not really sure how to start this out, he chews on the inside of his cheek. "So, that could'a gone better."

"Could've gone worse, based on the fact that you're not all hunched." Doug says. "You want to know why I ran off." He curls his fingers against the edge of the roof. "I'm not sure I want to say."

"Yeah, you sort of just left me there holdin' the bag," Jay agrees mildly. "An' a really awkward semi if Ah'm gonna be honest." Blowing out a breath and letting it hang in the frozen air, his arms fold loose over his chest, tilting his head toawrd Doug. "Doug. What's goin' on?"

Doug looks down, and says, "You forget, Jay. I can read nuances no one else can. I pick up on things people don't say, that they don't even realize they're thinking. So when I say this, don't tell me it's not true—" He blows out a cloud of frosty breath. "I'm creating disharmony in your family."

"…I feel like a terrible person."

Jay's expression is compassionate. Quiet, though any anger he had had dissolved over the revelation that Doug feels like it's all his fault. "Douglas Ramsey," murmuring the name, the background of his tone sounds like humor. "You've seen our family, firsthand. Disharmony is our standard."

"No it's not." Doug says, "Not the lies, the secrets." He pushes himself up. "This is my fault." He turns to walk past Jay, headed toward the security door. "I've made things difficult for Sam, and I've made things difficult for you, and I just can't—" He shakes his head, "I don't want it to be that way and I don't want it to be my fault. I feel sick, Jay."

Jay sticks to where he is, watching Doug walk away, a creeping feeling of uncertainty starting to itch through his skin. "Doug, this ain't yer fault. Sam…Sam got freaked out because he heard things that you didn't say. Ah chose you, but that don't mean that Ah wasn't hidin' it before you came around." He frowns, brows dipping together. "You didn't /make me queer/, Doug."

Doug's shoulders stiffen. "And I'm not sure I can take you and your brother's self-annihilation impulses. I love you *both*." He says, "And this *sucks* to watch." He has his hand on the doorknob. "I can't force you to do anything. I won't force either of you to endanger yourselves, or your family." He clenches it, his gloved fingers tightening around it. "You tell me what I'm supposed to do. I'm serious."

"Doug, Ah can't tell you what to do when Ah don't understand what yer wound up about," Jay murmurs and pushes away from the ledge of the roof to follow in Doug's footsteps. "It sounds like yer mad at me, and it sounds like you don't wanna see me because of it, but Ah can't for the life of me understand what yer mad at me for." He dips his brows together, sliding to a halt within arm's reach, but keeps his hands to himself. "Mah family is /fine/. We been through bumps, but we always got each other's backs. That's how that works; you watch out for each other, so when stuff happens, you can make it better. That's how siblings work."

"I'm an only child, Jay." Doug says. "I didn't really have people I was constantly with around my own age until I went to the school, and I was a teenager then. I'm not — mad at you." Doug says, his brows furrowing, "And believe me, I really want to see you. What I don't want—" He pauses. "…Is to make things worse. And I think that I am."

"That's why Ah'm tellin' you what it's about," Jay returns softly, patiently, trying to be empathetic, reaching out a hand to touch Doug's elbow. "Because Ah know that this big ol' family thing can be jarrin' to folks who never had it."

Slipping his hands into his pockets, his attention glued to the back of Doug's head while he faces the door. "How do you think that yer makin' things worse? Because mah brother caught us kissin'? Ah happen to like kissin' you. You think that it's better if you stop?"

"I'm also really embarassed, Jay." Doug says. He averts his eyes. "Why don't you just invite me down to Guthrie family thanksgiving, your friend Doug. Maybe all your other brothers and sisters will try to set me up with your sisterwho is *smokin* but the way but very much not my typeand I can be your friend Dougie and sit between you and your brother, PASS THE PEAS!" He throws his arms up.

Jay glances down, wounded and trying to hide it before Doug notices. Instead he tries for a faint, dry joke. "Ah thought Ah was supposed to be the one havin' trouble with you an' Sam," Jay's brows twitch together for a moment, then smooths out again. He doesn't even seem to blink over the idea that his sister is hot. He knows it. He's heard it for years and years. Jay swallows hard, his adam's apple bobbing. "Yer upset because we can't be like a normal couple."

"I'm upset beecause I feel like by being with you I'm making things harder than they need to be for you." Doug says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm just… I'm fucking things up for you."

"How are you makin' things harder for me?" Jay counters with some force of exasperation in his tone, his feathers fluttering with it. "You gave me an' mah brothers a great job at a place in our community. Jeb's got a purpose an' he /likes/ bein' here. Learnin' some responsibility instead of causin' trouble everywhere. Sam gets to charm the pants off of anyone who walks through the door. Ah get to do what Ah love most in the world. An'…Ah got someone really thoughtful, who's sneaky sexy an' doesn't mind me rollin' around in their guest room with 'em." Jay sighs and reaches for Doug's elbow to try to turn him around. "Yer so focused on how yer makin' my life harder, but it sounds like Ah'm the one makin' you miserable."

Doug gets spun around, and his blue eyes are hard as sapphires. "Don't you EVER say that to me again!" He says, jabbing Jay in the chest with a finger. "Not ever!" Then he shakes his head, and says, "…I don't know. Your family's just so tight-knit and I'm afraid…" He shakes his head. "I don't belong."

Surprised by the sudden anger, Jay takes a step backward, his eyes going wide and alarmed. His hands go up, palms out in surrender, as do his wings while he backs way, way up. "Whoa. Say what? What did Ah say?!" Definitely doesn't want to do that again.

"You are NOT making me miserable." Doug says. "When you're not being a…" He shakes his head, and throws up his hands, "Droopy crow, when the REAL you shines through, you're… you're a real *peacock*, Jay, and I *dig it*."

Wings slick back once more, though his hands stay up, lidding his eyes at Doug when he's called a 'droopy crow'. Slightly offended, but what can he say? He can't really deny it. "Then why are you makin' up all these /excuses/ not t'see me?" He argues in return. "Cause that's what they are, Doug. Yer makin' excuses."

Doug shakes his head, and puts his hand over his eyes. "Because I don't know what I'm *supposed to be doing*." Doug says. "I meet this wonderful person, and he's got this huge family that's all clustering around him and trying to protect him and I'm trying to figure out how to make him a face of the mutant rights movement and I—" He shakes his head, "…I'm just overwhelmed, that's all. And maybe I am making excuses."

Jay's hands swing down to his sides finally, fixing Doug with a look that seems resolute beneath an undercurrent of light exasperation over the round about conversation. Not uncommon, really. "You /are/ makin' excuses, Douglas. Mah family's nervous for me because," He glances away, ashamed for a flashing moment and ripple through his wings, pulling his attention back up to Doug. "Because of everythin' that happened back home. Jeb blames himself, Ah blame mahself, Sam tries to pretend it didn't happen, an' Paige is sheddin' everywhere out of worry, but they'll support mah decision. It's okay to be overwhelmed; mah family is a lot."

Doug looks downand then back up. "They are a lot. But I think I'd rather spill the beans to your mother before you met my parents." He shakes his head. "Talk about brittle." Then he looks up at Jay, and says, "You're worth it. You really are, you know. And I know that you're going to carry what happened with you for the rest of your life, bird" He says, "But you should let that peacock out a little more… because he is really something." He looks really embarassed, now. "…I really do think I'd make thanksgiving dinner with your clan really awkward, though. I don't even like spending it with mine, and really it's just me, my dad, my mother, and her bottle of pinot grigio—" He lets out a soft huff. "…We're really terrible mormons."

Stepping forward to where he stood before, Jay reaches out to snake both of his arms around Doug's shoulders and tug him tight against his chest. Going to take some fighting to stop from happening. "Yer real cute if you think that we have /ever/ had a thanksgivin' that wasn't full of crazy and awkward bits."

Doug wraps his arms around Jay's ribs, and buries his face in his shoulder. "Does your mother house a bottle of wine and then have to go lay in a dark room because she 'has a headache'?" He asks, his eyebrows going up. Then he snorts. "Fine. Fine. I'm sorry I've been pushing you."

Resituating his arms around Doug's back when he buries his face into Jay's shoulder, the musician rests the side of his head against Doug's and closes his eyes. Wings wrap around next, insulating them a little more from the cold. "No, Ah can't say that she does. An' you can push me all you like, but you gotta know, Dougie, Ah wanna be where Ah'm at. You ain't the only one that's nervous an' Ah know that there's gonna be trouble along the way. Maybe with us an' maybe with what we're doin'—Ah mean, people ain't going to be all applause to a mutant man tryin' to break in. You know that, right? We're askin' fer trouble."

"Yeah well," Doug says, "When trouble shows up, I intend to come up behind it with a baseball bat." Doug sighs, and pushes back a bit. Then he looks up, and says, "So uh…" He blinks, owlishly, "Awkward semi, huh?"

Jay smiles a little bit, crookedly, letting his arms relax and wings retract. Settling his hands on Doug's shoulders with a firm squeeze. Jay smiles, wide and warm, ignoring the little flush of heat he can feel in his ears. "What can Ah say? You kiss real nice."

After a moment, Doug leans in, to steal another kiss, slowly. He pulls back, and then says, "So… why waste it?" He raises an eyebrow.

A slow smile spreads over Jay's lips following that pilfered bit of affection. His eyes bright as they flick back up from their lowered position, enjoying the kiss. "You know, I've always heard that makin' up is the fun part of these little spats."

Doug raises an eyebrow, and then he opens the security door to go inside. "Well," He says, "Promise to sing 'Time of the Season' tonight during your set. But in the meantime, gimme…" He thinks, "Ten minutes. Then come to the apartment."

Letting Doug go ahead, though Jay does check the man out a little bit on the way in, planting that thought in the younger man's head. "Ah can play that, sure." Coming in close behind him, Jay hums lightly over Doug's shoulder, just past his ear, "You need ten minutes to get your pants off?" Teasing.

"It's called delated gratification, Guthrie," Doug says, his voice wry, "I'll make you wait for ten minutes, and by the time you get to me you'll be half crazy." Doug smirks, and opens the door, to head downstairs. "Ten minutes… keep an eye on your watch."

"Ah'm 19," Jay reminds Doug. "You mention sex an' Ah'm already half crazy." Joking around as he follows inside. "Fine, fine. Ah'll go do mah sound check and be up, how's that? Make sure Jeb didn't get drunk out of worry downstairs. Ten minutes. Keep an eye on /yer/ watch."

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