capeandcowllogs | i should've seen it glow but everybody knows

Entry tags:

i should've seen it glow but everybody knows

WHO: One (1) ex-Marine + Two (2) Godmode Teenagers.
WHERE: Terry & Bradbury's apartment
WHEN: March 21st, early morning
WARNINGS: WHO KNOWS
SUMMARY: Bradbury gets a rude awakening.
FORMAT: quick to start, whatever after!

[ bradbury isn't awake yet. that in itself isn't terribly unusual. it's early, after all, even for him. the sun isn't due to be up for another couple of hours, and he isn't planning on jogging today, so he's taking the opportunity to sleep in.

by now, he's somehow moved from sleeping on the couch and into abby's room, though the majority of her belongings have been packed into boxes and uncertainly put aside. he's considered taking them to a storage unit, but he hasn't quite found the time. or maybe he's just making excuses.

he's in his favored sleeping position, which is sprawled onto his back in his pajamas, one arm resting over his stomach. he's also snoring, relatively softly, occasionally interrupted by teeth gritting together. ]

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[ it's too bad that bradbury planned on sleeping in. jenny quantum has a way of spoiling people's plans. who knows how long she'd been in their apartment, probably giving the pets her love and smoking a cigarette in the living room-- but she's never been the type to wait to be invited, and god forbid she miss celebrating the birthday of the man that killed her.

her first present to him is a rude awakening. she lets herself into abby's old room, a half-smoked cigarette in one hand and a party horn in the other. coming up to the bed, she leans down close before blowing the horn-- just to be sure the unfurling paper catches him in the nose as the horn gives a high-pitched wheeze. ]

Happy fucking birthday, old man.

[ the moment the sound blasts his ears and the paper smacks into his nose, the reaction is instantaneous -- bradbury bolts upright like he's been shot, narrowly missing knocking into jenny as he automatically turns to send a hand grabbing for the gun he keeps under his pillow.

which isn't there, because too late he remembers that he'd gotten out of that particular habit ever since he came back from southwest phoenicia. it's with a hand half-stuck under his pillow and a heart racing from the sudden kick of adrenalin that he finds himself staring blankly at the girl across him, like he can't quite process she's there even though he's wide awake. he doesn't even catch her greeting, too busy looking incredibly confused. ]

Jenny?

[ she tosses the party horn over her shoulder unceremoniously, letting the corner of her mouth just vaguely curve upward in something like amusement. she's savoring it, that look of utter confusion, the blank stare. when he finally says her name, she just shrugs lightly, lifting her cigarette to her mouth and casually exhaling smoke before she replies: ]

No. It's Santa Claus.

[ she untucks a wrapped gift from under her arm and dumps it in his lap. he'll probably be dismayed to find the "world's number one father" mug inside. ]

Ho ho fucking ho.

[ the confusion and incomprehension doesn't wipe itself from his face; if anything, it just ratchets up another degree, incredulity seeping in bit by bit until he finally just gives up trying to process it and takes it as it is, looking down at the gift wrapped in his lap and debating whether or not he really wants to open it. ]

If you're gonna smoke, can you not do it in here? [ if it was his room, he wouldn't care, but he still doesn't really think of it as his. he gets the wrapper off, and freezes at the sight of the message on it, and groans. wow, that isn't passive-aggressive at all. then again, there's nothing passive about her. ]

Seriously? [ he should, he thinks, probably be freaking out more about this, but he's too tired to care right now. ]

What, you don't like it?

[ she doesn't put her cigarette out, instead taking another drag before she helps herself to a seat on his bed. at least she has the courtesy to toe her boots off before crossing her legs. draping her arms over her own knees, she tilts her head to watch him. ]

I thought it was pretty fucking cute.

[ it's hard to tell if she's being sarcastic or not. ]

[ mostly, bradbury's given up on being able to tell whether jenny's being sarcastic or not. his expression twists, caught between laughing out loud and just generally being horrified that she's here. what does she want, why is she doing this, and what the hell is he supposed to do; all these questions running through his head contribute to the way he can't seem to settle on how to feel about it, until he finally gives up and just drops back into bed, staring at the ceiling. ]

Breakfast in bed would've been better. [ there's no chance this isn't all some horrible dream, is it? he lifts his head just enough to peer at her dubiously. ]

Thanks, I think.

[ she nudges his leg with her knee when he flops back down onto the mattress, defeated, quirking her lips up in another vaguely amused shape. she lets a second or two pass between them before she reaches out and takes that awful mug from him, hopping down off the bed and casually exiting the room. if he listens, he'll hear her across the hall, opening a door. her voice carries: ]

Hey, asshole. Rise and shine.

[ then her footsteps continue out into the kitchen. ]

[ there's a muffled response to jenny's intrusion, some shuffling around before more footsteps lead from across the hall into the bathroom. there's a toilet flush, a few minutes of running water, then finally terry wanders into bradbury's room, groggy and even more wild-haired than he usually is. rubbing at his eyes -- dark from poor sleep habits, instead of smudged eyeliner -- he finds his way over the bed, sitting down on the edge of it.

with sleepy roughness clinging to his voice: ]

Hey. Happy birthday. [ a beat ] Was she in here already?

[ once jenny's out of the room, bradbury's taken to draping an arm over his face, shifting it just enough to shoot terry a deadpan look when he sits on the edge of the bed. ]

Yeah, and with a present, too. In what universe did you think it was a good idea to tell Jenny Quantum my birthday?

[ he's not really angry, though; he decides to blame it on the fuzziness of still not quite being fully awake. he can spare the time to be more aggravated later, maybe, wondering what the hell he's supposed to do when a teenage former-dictator can apparently waltz in and out of his life without him stopping her, but for now it just doesn't seem getting worked up about.

he can't remember the last time he woke up on a birthday, this way. it's not unpleasant, just... disorienting. ]

[ terry makes a face, but it's not a very good one. he's not awake enough for it just yet. ]

I didn't think she'd actually show up or whatever. Geez.

[ he runs his fingers through his hair, trying to tame it. it doesn't help much, but at least it's not in his face so much. he should probably be more freaked out that jenny's in the apartment -- with the two people that witnessed what happened to her in africa, no less -- but maybe he's either too used to her whims by now, or it just hasn't sunk in yet. ]

At least she didn't try to kill you.

She's still got -- [ his gaze flicks to the alarm clock. ] -- an hour to do it before I need to actually get going.

[ and then a terrible thought occurs. if terry's in here with him, then where the hell is jenny? he bolts straight upright (again), swinging his legs off the bed and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

knowing how his luck runs, she might have actually taken him seriously, and he steps out of his room and into the hallway (then taking care of his quick morning ablutions) before making his way into the kitchen barefoot. ]

[ just in time. there's a stack of waffles on the kitchen counter-- and judging by the fatty aroma and the sizzling noises, jenny's making bacon. her birthday gift to bradbury is on the table, filled with what looks like black coffee.

she's smoking a fresh cigarette.

when she hears someone coming, she speaks without looking: ]

Took you long enough.

[ they'll be joined by terry in a second. he took a detour to his room to drag on some skinny jeans and a band t-shirt. thank god the animals are late sleepers, or the apartment might be chaos -- not that having jenny there isn't chaotic enough already.

he doesn't bother with his hair. it's gonna be a mess either way. he makes his way into the kitchen a minute or two after bradbury. he'd be more surprised at the sight of breakfast, if it wasn't jenny -- jenny barely surprises him with anything anymore.

dryly: ]

The Spirit of the Century cooking breakfast? Mr. B's getting the royal treatment.

[ bradbury is decidedly less used than terry to any of this, and for a moment, he considers sagging against the doorway in a vain attempt to ask whatever higher powers are looking down on this to give him strength. instead, his gaze swivels between terry and jenny, like he's trying to size up the odds that he's just stuck in some kind of teenage conspiracy, before he resigns himself to his fate and heads over to pick up his mug, absently checking the temperature before taking a gulp.

normally, he'd have it with milk at least, but today he can tell he needs the fortification.

he doesn't say anything when he sits at the counter, eying the stack of waffles with a dubiousness that suggests he's not entirely convinced they're not just poofed out of the ether by jenny's powers. instead, picking up knife and fork, he cuts himself a piece of waffle and takes a bite. at least with his mouth full he has an excuse not to speak, but the bemusement is sill plain to see in his expression. he'll never quite understand why exactly she's here, of all places to be. ]

Sit the fuck down and have some fucking waffles, Ward.

[ her tone is amicable enough, despite the choice of words. the last few pieces of bacon get tipped out of the skillet and onto a plate before she carries it-- manually, even, no snappity quantum powers-- over to the counter to keep the waffles company.

she eyes bradbury a minute, puffing away on her cigarette before she says casually: ]

What, you're not gonna check for poison first?

[ terry does what he's told -- mostly because it's easier this early in the morning to do what jenny says than to argue with her. besides, he's not going to argue with a proper breakfast. boy's all skin an bones as it is.

her question to bradbury only makes him raise a slightly eyebrow at her. he's never really sure when jenny's joking or not, but after a second, he seems to think that poison must not really be her style -- either that, or he figures he's immortal and it doesn't matter -- because he's grabbing a plate and some silverware, then forking himself a waffle.

in that same dry tone of voice: ]

Death by birthday breakfast. That's morbid, even for me.

[ bradbury pauses mid-chew, looking up. of course, he's tried not to notice it, and he's mostly done a good job ignoring it, but the fact that jenny's not using her powers -- does it mean she doesn't have them, still, or that she's faking it? or maybe, for once, she just wants to make something with her own hands.

he tries to stop the train of speculative thought there. he doesn't think about that right now. it doesn't fucking matter. ]

I can think of worse ways to go.

[ shit. ]

[ jenny huffs out a noise that might be entertained, reaching out to steal a piece of bacon. she leans to put her cigarette out in the sink before biting off a piece and chewing. it might be a tiny bit burnt, but it's not bad, considering how little cooking jenny q probably does. ]

Sure. I prefer unmaking people when they've got a full stomach anyway.

[ terry pauses, eying jenny again between mouthfuls of waffle. he likes to think he knows her better than most people, but even then, she's still a mystery most of the time. he figures she likes it that way. but he also figures if she meant to hurt anyone today, she would've done it already.

in all honesty, it's so domestic and normal that he's not really sure what to do with it. he pauses, then pinches his arm. ]

Huh. Not dreaming. [ dryly: ] We really are all sitting here having breakfast like normal people.

[ bradbury pauses even longer after that, then snorts, tipping his head. ]

No laugh track, either. Guess we aren't stuck in a sitcom.

[ but he doesn't really know what else to say, either. eating, at least, is something he can do, and at length he eyes jenny quantum over his stack of pancakes and bacon, like he's deciding what to say next. ]

Are you actually gonna eat breakfast, or keep stealin' from my plate the whole time?

Yeah, yeah, ungrateful assholes. I'm taking time out of my fucking busy career as a child terrorist to feed you fucks, you know.

[ there isn't any bite to her words though. she just steals another piece of crispy bacon, absently breaking it into two halves before starting to eat it. she wags the uneaten half at both of them. ]

Enjoy it. I'm not sticking around long.

[ he's honestly not sure whether he should find it entertaining or exasperating. maybe it's too early to decide which one it is. either way, he hasn't had breakfast like this in a long time -- not since he left his family for camp hammond -- and it's weirdly nice. not, of course, that he'll say as much out loud.

wouldn't want to jinx it. ]

It's not like we're going to call the City Hall terrorist reporting hotline or something. [ he glances at bradbury. ] Right.

[ bradbury really wishes terry hadn't asked that. ]

City Hall doesn't even have a terrorist reporting hotline. [ he drops his gaze, stares at his waffles like his gaze might be able to drill a hole in them if he focuses on it long enough. finally, he looks up, lifts that goddamn mug at jenny in salute, and manages a wry smirk. ]

And even if it did hypothetically have one, I'd only be reporting to it if there was, y'know, anything to report. Which there isn't. So.

[ he takes a sip of coffee, decisively, feeling the burn all the way down. he'll never understand teenagers, he thinks, as long as he lives. not their motives, or their reasons for doing -- well, anything. ]

Thanks. For coming.

[ jenny watches him unreadably for a long second when he thanks her, letting her attention rest on him intently. like this, when she's still and not posturing, not swearing or smoking or anything, maybe it's obvious that she isn't fully herself yet-- that she hasn't entirely recovered in one way or another. there's something tired in her face, something ordinary that doesn't quite suit her.

she's supposed to be endless and powerful, but mostly right now, she just looks... sixteen and a little rough around the edges, even when she casually shrugs and responds with purposeful nonchalance: ]

Whatever. Maybe this is all part of my grand scheme. What the fuck do you know, right?

[ terry is the passive observer in that moment as it passes between bradbury and jenny. he's still not sure what it is between the two of them exactly -- if jenny sees bradbury as a rival, as a father, or something else entirely. but he knows she misses midnighter and she hasn't killed bradbury yet -- and it's possible the two things are related.

he goes for another waffle. it's not something he's likely to figure out any time soon, so he might as well keep eating breakfast. ]

Right, let's keep doing the posturing thing. Otherwise this would be way too creepily domestic.

[ that breaks the tension of the moment, or at least saves bradbury from having to respond to jenny directly, and it's an excuse he's happy to take, cutting an amused look over at him. ]

Hey. No comments from the peanut gallery.

[ he makes as if to flick a piece of bacon at Terry's head, then pops it into his mouth instead, chewing reflectively. he's not the most observant, but now that he's had time to look at her longer, he's sure: jenny quantum doesn't have her powers back yet. the thought makes something cold and uncomfortable twist in his gut. lingering guilt, maybe, though he still stands by what he said: he'd do it again, if he had to.

that doesn't mean it would be any easier.

he almost wants to say more, but he isn't sure what there is to say. he doesn't even know where to start. ]

[ jenny glances at terry, but she lets him have his smart-ass comment without biting back. in fact, she doesn't say anything at all for a few long moments, letting the sound of food and silverware and morning outside fill the silence. maybe she's just taking it all in-- the weird, comfortable feeling of something like family (maybe that's the real birthday present here)-- or maybe she's just tired, or biding her time, keeping everyone's guards down until her powers come back.

at length, she digs out another cigarette and a cheap gas station lighter, clicking it to life. she presses the cigarette between her lips, lifting the flame to the tip of it and inhales smoke deeply before she speaks again. ]

Alright, assholes. Family time's up. [ leisurely smoke curls from her mouth. she straightens out her jacket, like she's getting ready to leave. ] Try not to fuck up your own birthday, Rick.

Edited 2013-03-26 00:39 (UTC)

[ it's still surreal, to see jenny light a cigarette like a normal person. it never stops seeming out of place to him. it always makes him think she's acting tougher than she really is -- and having known midnighter, it's hard not to think how much stronger she'd look right now, with his towering frame looming over her, his gloved hand on her shoulder.

at length, all he say is, simply: ]

See you around, I guess.

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i should've seen it glow but everybody knows

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