meadowlarklogs | I CAN'T IMAGINE THERE'S A WAY

Entry tags:

I CAN'T IMAGINE THERE'S A WAY —

WHO: Fitz, SHIELD, and you!
WHERE: New Amsterdam's medium-est bar: Refraction
WHEN: 01 September
WHAT: Leo's turning 31 100
NOTES OR WARNINGS: TBA

[ On his actual birthday, Fitz celebrates with his two closest friends (the people who’ve kept him together, despite wobbles along the way). Bobbi and Daisy, however, know that when Fitz says I hate people and don’t want to celebrate in the middle of a secret war he means I hate being alone, even on days without symbolic meaning. Daisy and Bobbi send out the mass evite, and Bobbi uses her powers of persuasion to find a more upscale venue for a discounted rate. Due to the flipped schedules in the height of New Amsterdam’s summer, Fitz’s party happens in the morning (the new night for anyone working a 9-5 gig), sun rising high over the city as it begins.

Welcome to REFRACTION, a classy bar tens of floors off the ground, with a stellar view of the city, not far from the river. Beams of light weave across the back area of the venue, well-lit by various glowing fixtures. Something about the place has an old world flair, with its dark colour scheme and minimalist decor. Maybe today’s an acceptable excuse to dress smart, celebrate with a friend, and drink up:

— enjoy the food (which might have had British roots at one point, but it’s hard to tell given the variety of fusions on display in bite-size portions) and initial round of free fizz, compliments of the host (and the host’s super stem friends)
— buy drinks at the bar and get wankered (as the birthday boy will be, around the new midnight)
— people watch from the tables and sofas
— dance to NA’s top synth pop hits (coming through hidden speakers above and holograms of the singers at some tables, activated by the proximity of nearby implant viewers)
— try a piece of cake, reading Happy 100th Birthday, Fitz! and looking a bit like it came from the same space-themed, child's birthday do as the evite. If your piece of cake has a wee star inside it, it means you’re one of the lucky winners and get a freebie at the bar.

As a nice establishment, rowdiness will only get you tossed on your arse by the bouncers, so everybody be cool.

At one point, someone nudges Fitz forward to say something. Dressed in his finest blues, he cuts a smarter figure than the usual corporate cut-out. ]

Right. [ said in the tight voice of someone who is definitely on the verge of crushing the flute in his hand. ] I never know what to say, and I didn't have time to prepare because, ah. Surprise. [ he splays out his free hand. ] So I will just say that — that there's someone I wish was here, despite all the horrible happenings, but that I am so so grateful that you're all here despite them, too. It's not for — forever, but it's pretty nice. Right now. [ As another SHIELD agent said: We have what we have when we have it. That's it. ] Thank you. Cheers!

( if you don't think the SHIELD losers would have invited your character, please feel free to come up with a semi-plausible reason for attending. gatecrashing, plus ones, hearing the commotion and wanting to be nosy. all are welcome! )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ by the time connor arrives, fitz is blessedly tipsy post-toast (public presentations of sincerity are like to drive any man to drink). and definitely greets the sight of connor with a warm shout of his name across the way. he almost interrupts with “was kat and daisy, not me” but connor’s doing some sort of nervy babbling routine that leaves him nodding until it lands a present in his hands.

oh!!! ]

Hey, s’okay. [ a quick and easy reassurance as he stares at the box, lifting it higher to get a better look and consider the weight. ] I got a bit — [ the vaguest one-handed gesture. ] — sappy, anyway. [ his gaze flickers to connor and back to the present. ] Can I open it?

[ yes that’s how birthdays work buddy... ]

(connor smiles a wobbly smile at fitz, sure that he's drunk, sated, and happy with his night. it looks like it. that's fantastic.

it makes him step in a little closer, gesturing openly to the box with a quick nod.) Yeah, of course. Please. It's not much and I don't know if you're into this sort of thing, but I like them myself and I thought... (well, by now he's realized that he's talking too much for too long and trails off with a huff of embarrassed amusement.)

Go ahead.

(it'll open to a think layer of protective tissue paper. beyond that? a quarter coin. freshly minted, although the inscription says it's from 1994. it'd be a lost relic in the here and now, but he's quick to explain that. no, he didn't lift it from a museum or win it in an auction—) I had it made. The coins don't exist anymore or seem to be rare collectibles, so I got a metalworker to do it.

("liberty", "in god we trust", all of it. slick, too, with that glossy preservative coating.)

I had a replica of one myself, back home, and I performed dexterity tricks or fiddled with it to calibrate my cognitive and physical reactions... especially when I was stuck on particularly stubborn problems. Since we're currently stuck on one such problem, it seemed... suitable.

[ he tugs at the bow, careful as he always is, moving to lift the coin between two fingers. at first, he doesn't comprehend the meaning, simply struck by how old it seems to him now, at odds with the world of new amsterdam. it reminds him of home, the one he's made in america, which SHIELD has undeniably cribbed its ethos and branding, despite being extra-governmental. ]

Connor, it's — [ Lovely, he's about to say, but then Connor clarifies what it's for, and he looks back at it again, processing and understanding. He shifts, closing the coin in his palm, safe, and looks up, features loose, utterly disarmed. As ever, while Connor lacks the details of Fitz's circumstances (the hypoxia and the framework manifesting as the moments where he becomes stuck, glitching), he still sees and understands. An abortive motion then, gesturing at Connor to come closer before he decides to just sort this himself, quick steps to embrace his dear friend and show how grateful he is, without having to say it.

It's kind of awkward, when he has the coin clutched in one hand and the wee box in the other — but it's heartfelt. Any brush of skin tells of how much he appreciates it, bleeding affection.] Thank you.

(there was sure to be a struggle where meaning was concerned, but fitz is as sharp as always. he listens, picks up on connor's intention, and moves forward to gather him into a tight hug — "awkward" is far from how connor pictures it, any hug one to cherish. he's warm, he's snug, and that's all there is to that formula.

it's nice.

his arms gather fitz up, wedging the side of his head closer to catch more of the appreciation and exchange it for genuine fondness. it feels so much like praise... he can't really resist.)

You're welcome. (connor says to acknowledge the thank you, giving the embrace one last squeeze.) Happy birthday.

[ the positive feedback loop does a better job of communicating than he ever could, entirely warm. maybe it is nice. today's a good day, one where he feels more centred and unlikely to drift, so when they part, his smile widens, unlike what he typically offers here in new amsterdam.

fitz makes a point to show connor the coin again before he pockets it in his jacket, secure. then, he raises his hand to grasp his friend's shoulder, smile flattening. ]

[ even. ] Don't forget I let you get choked up in peace. [ for his birthday present, delivered to his home with Markus... ] 'Cause I won't, you absolute prick.

[ gonna get your sentimental butt back one day, tin man. ]

I'm an android, Fitz. (a blatantly terrible excuse is coming,) I'm afraid I don't pick up on many social cues, so embarrassing you in front of all of your friends seemed fine to do. Obviously.

(crossing an arm over his chest to clap a hand over fitz'. pat pat, there there. you'll get over it.)

I'm not easily flustered.

(instigating a war..............)

[ FIGHTING WORDS ]

Oh, shut up. [ flustered... ]

[ a clumsy swat at connor's hand. ]

We know you're properly human now, Connor — hard to miss it with all the whinging.

[ "oooooh it's so hard being in the flesh prison with all its eating and sleeping and High Maintenance" ]

Edited 2019-01-19 21:00 (UTC)

I've only been alive for over sixth months, Fitz, (his tone is flat, but his smirk betrays it,) and humans lose sight of how foreign they feel in their own bodies after infancy. We've been given fully operational, adult bodies with the addition of a very sensate mind — I'll whinge every chance I get.

(winks at him.)

But I'm also embracing it as wholeheartedly as I can, with help from my friends.

(his head cants to one side, two inches in a moment of quiet study. fitz has aged well, still looks young in the face while hiding how he feels in the head and heart. the sheer amount of experience with all manner of emotion and feeling must simultaneously and contrarily make him weaker, stronger, numb, fearful, appreciative, jaded. to think every single moment of every single day compounded over thirty-one years to create this one man, simple and yet infinitely complex.

connor's eyes crease as his smile widens. humans really don't realize how marvellous they are.)

Do you know how much you've impacted my life in the short time we've known one another?

You introduced me to beer, (a rare, rare shake of his shoulders to indicate a silent chuckle that doesn't reach ears, starting off light,) and to holding someone's hand to seek comfort. You showed me how poignant and nostalgic a thoughtful gift could be. We shared pain I've never experienced with one another, as well as new stress and worry. You accompanied me to a frontier I never thought I'd ever be able to reach.

You gave me a friend, a loyal one I feel I can work in a team with, showing me I can lean on others. (a reach forward to catch him by the elbow, bowing his head in the space between them.) ... You said "One person in your life can change everything," and I believe that — but so can several. You're one of them, now.

[ It starts off easy enough, with a retort already forming in his mouth, as connor does that thing. the one where he goes a bit stare-y. could put it down to the android of it all, if fitz weren't prone to the same look, at once focused and lingering. ]

Connor — [ an attempt to cut connor off at the sentimental pass, right after Do you know how much you've impacted my life in the short time we've known one another? only he hasn't the faintest idea of an answer (sincere or otherwise). without realising it, he's already turning over the coin in his pocket.

the mention of connor's first beer makes fitz's mouth twitch (not a bad start), but the remainder of his words hit with deadly precision. as of late, fitz has wondered what connors sees, when he looks too long (thinking that his cleverness and investigative skill will provide insight into the cracks in his skin, prying them wider with every offhand remark). unsurprising, then, if connor recognises his expression (one earned by his frighteningly thoughtful and straightforward proclamations before this moment): eyes too wide, features slack, startled into a rare silence by what's being offered.

he never once suspected this. not any of it alone, so certainly not all at once. is it possible for someone so brilliant to miss the obvious? connor has extended kindness after kindness, compliments and reassurances — a trip to the bloody stars. fitz's eyes feel wet. no tears, but the threat of them wells. ]

Connor, I don't — [ I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you. he's not this man. well, maybe he is, but he's another one, too, the one who tricked connor into attending a botfight and manipulated him into revealing his power, without an offer of reciprocal intelligence. he rubs at his eyes with the one hand, still clutching the gift-box. and reaches out to return connor's move to catch him with the other, gripping his arm. fitz may not deserve it, but he wants to, more than anything. ] I don't know what to say.

[ if he had the words, he would explain the myriad ways in which connor is good, valuing life and redemption, protecting everyone — from a whirring battlebot to fitz himself. connor's unburdened by the prejudices of humanity, unafraid of speaking his mind, loyal and daring. ]

Thank you — for being my friend.

[ borderline choked up... ]

(it's possible for someone so brilliant to ignore the obvious. being tricked, being lied to, all of these things will compound for him and there's a high probability his anger will flare up in their future, strong and startling — but right now these hiccoughs are all solo moments in his mind, islands of times fitz got desperate for answers or information. things that are impossible to hold against him when he'd do the same things.

when the end justifies the means, even if the journey there is painful and alienating.

the high times are so high, though, connor swept away by having friends, people who don't spit at him as he walks by, people who don't deny him entrance to their homes on a "no androids allowed" principle, people who don't call him a plastic freak, an imitation, a cold, unfeeling machine. so high that fitz thanking him sits strangely in his chest and makes his throat ache, sustained smile fading with the grip on his arm.)

...

(he hugs him again, his this time, heart hammering his appreciation between their glowing chests that light up with the next bond. his chin digs into the nape of fitz's neck, staring off at some spot behind him with one solid pat of his hand against the man's shoulder-blade. staying like that would be nice, the way he wishes the lieutenant's comfortable embrace would've lasted much longer than it did after the most stressful time in his life.

still, everything has to end.

connor holds him out at arm's distance to look over him and decides to keep him close, stepping up to his right hand side.)

Let's go get you another beer, Fitz, and I could use one myself.

[ this time, it's connor who brings them together, suffusing the entirety of their connection with warmth. a physical and emotional comfort skittering across their skin. the feeling is so undeniable that even fitz can't deny it. his hands come up quick, arms wrapped around connor's middle with confidence. this is comfortable now, just another thing they do, like grasping for a hand, when they don't quite have the words.

when connor pulls away, only to settle in at his side again (it's nice — like being in the lab with mack or on a stakeout with hunter, a closeness forged in a crucible or ten), fitz promptly claps a hand on his back, helping to steer him towards the bar. he looses a laugh, too, releasing that stuck-in-the-throat feeling of emotional build-up. another swipe of the back of his hand over wet eyes, and he's back to birthday-mode. ]

You best be buying this time, Connor. [ another squeeze. ] Put your credits where your mouth is.

[ confessing love and adoration is great and all, but, like, spot the birthday boy a round. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I CAN'T IMAGINE THERE'S A WAY —

i’m crying

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

sorryyy.....

BLOCKED

deletes this gay ass tag jESUS

finishes off this gay ass thread gOD