Logs:Someone To Hold You While You Cry

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Cast

Sturm and Teagan

Setting

Sturm's Room, Direct Action house

Log

Teagan hasn't been going much of anywhere the last few days. They've been sticking close to home: running errands when people need, being domestic so those recovering don't have to. It's probably pretty funny to see someone with a machete strapped to their hip putting away socks, but that's how it is in the Direct Action motley house. Laura and June's heavy wool socks have been sorted, and the ones that have too many holes in the toes have been thrown away, and Laura's put away here and June's put away there.

A stack of folded crop tops is being put away by Teagan in the room that Sturm declared her own, the part of the basement that was finished by Sig and Sturm so she could move in. After they finish putting away the last of the laundry? The empty laundry basket with ice cube stickers on the handles is set out in the hallway, and Teagan pads back into the room to flop onto their back on the bed and wait for Sturm to arrive. Attention is not just desired, but required.

One of the chief benefits of working at a twenty-four hour diner is always having the ability to bring home breakfast. No matter what time it is. Sturm hangs up her coat on a peg by the door, and kicks her workboots off before padding down towards her room to change with a pair of styrofoam to-go containers in hand.

"Oh, hey." A smile breaks through Sturm's usually-stony demeanor. She must've blown out of the Maddy's in a rush, because she's still wearing her apron. Which is a look when you're 6'11" and covered in scars and tattoos. "I brought something home for you. Someone ordered something really similar to your usual, and I took it down wrong by accident. My muscle memory thought it was yours, I guess. So. Free food."

Sturm sets the to-go containers down on the bedside table before giving Teagan a little smooch in greeting, and then moving to untie her apron.(edited)

"You look cute as hell," Teagan offers, rolling on to their side and watching Sturm hang up her coat. "I don't usually go for the apron look -- reminds me way too much of someone we knew in Miami who had a latex apron fetish -- but it looks ... really, really cute on you." They sit up on the edge of the bed and sigh at her with an openly smitten expression, making grabby hands toward Sturm. And also the food. But Sturm. The kiss is returned, and then they scoot along the bed's edge to snag the containers and pop them open. "I am ... so hungry. Thank you, doll."

Sturm snickers as she starts tossing her work clothes aside into the laundry basket. Her apron is about as far from a Latex Apron as one can get -- y'know, because she wears it to work -- but it's definitely a cute look. Floral patterns in various shades of blue and white, with navy blue pockets for her notepad, pens, and extra straws.

"Of course, Sweet Tea." Or was that sweetie. It's hard to tell with her low tone, and accent. Her shirt and sports bra come off, and she rummages around in the dresser for a fresh crop top -- 'cause wowee that really is all she wears, isn't it -- before changing into the rest of her pajamas. "You've been working hard to make sure everyone's cared for, and I haven't been present enough to help with that, so." She fetches her own food, and takes a seat beside Teagan on the bed. "Making sure you're taking care of you, too, is the least I can do."

She finally found a nickname that works for Teagan, one that doesn't make them laugh or roll their eyes or tease her. Their face flushes silver briefly, and they take a piece of extra-crispy bacon out of the container and crunch crunch crunch. "You've been working, because we need money," Teagan points out in between bites of bacon, and then they make their sandwich out of eggs and waffles and bite into it carefully over the container. Sweet and savory, Teagan's favorite. "And that's taking care of me. But I appreciate you. In all the ways." That requires an eyebrow waggle as they take another bite of waffle-eggs-over-easy sandwich and the yolks burst. Yum yum.

"Oh, believe me. I'm very aware of all the ways you appreciate me," Sturm flashes a quick little half-smirk, and winks. This behavior might shock some, but Teagan's well-accustomed to the fact that Sturm's actually a gremlin when not hiding it behind an icy frown. She cracks open her own container, and breaks out the plastic spork to start on her migas. "That's fair. Money's been a little weird lately, hasn't it." Probably because three members of their Motley decided to become firefighters.

Sturm leans forward for the drink carrier she'd set beside the bed, and passes Teagan a coffee cup before grabbing her own. "How has everyone been doing? Sig and Laura staying still long enough to heal?"

They snort around a mouthful of waffles and eggs, chewing and swallowing. Oh yes, they're very aware. "You're incorrigible." The Mirrorskin offers Sturm a broad grin thereafter, egg still smeared at the corner of their mouth, and then they shove the last mouthful of waffle sandwich into their face. "Money has been a little weird lately," they agree. "Not that I know fuck or shit about money, like, ever, at all. I just say 'Sigrun can I have' or 'June can I have' and they give me a credit card to use." They lick the corner of their lips absently, take the coffee with a grateful smile.

"Mmm, you could say that. Gotta hold 'em down sometimes, though." Oh, that smile. Fucking gremlin. "How are you holding up?" No comment about themself, as per the usual.

There's a smirk at the comment as Sturm leans in to lick that bit of egg off the corner Teagan's mouth. A taste of their own gremlin-y medicine. She might not be a mirror -- and the reflection may be a little fuzzy -- but Sturm sure is quick to mimic the behaviors of others. "That's fair," Sturm offers a shrug. "I'm doing fine. Just trying to juggle. I've been thinking about getting back into prize fighting again once I finish up this K&A shit. Maybe something a little more legit than underground clubs and shit - there's a ton of money in it if you're good enough, y'know?"

She takes a sip of coffee.

"You doing okay, too? You're playing caretaker, but you still went through all the same shit as everyone else..."

They snicker when she licks at their mouth, and snap their blunt teeth toward her fanged mouth. Like Teagan's got teeth to compete with Sturm's. "Like a legit prize fighter?" Teagan asks, one eyebrow rising. "Shit. That's... " Pause. "That's hot. And you are good enough. That's not even in doubt." There's a sidelong grin flashed at her.

And when Sturm pushes at them? They take a deep breath in. "Oh, you know. I'm kinda... " and then they blow a raspberry. That's very illustrative, Teagan. "Laura got hurt real bad. Sigrun almost died. People were stuck in the tree and I can't get that image out of my head, and... "

"Johnnie?" A helpless little shrug, there.

Sturm runs her navy blue tongue over one of those lengthy incisors in response to the snapping teeth, but she quickly sobers when the topic of conversation turns more serious. She pokes at her migas with that little plastic spork, tone falling to a low grumble.

"Yeah, I..." She clears her throat awkwardly, before taking a bite of food. "Keep running around in circles in my head. About what if either of them had died when I wasn't there. How'd I'd be able to... deal with that." There's a pause for coffee, and she sets her food aside on the bed to wrap an arm around Teagan. Comfort as she continues her poking. "What about Johnnie? Just. How hard it hit her? Or?"(edited)

"I wouldn't be able to deal with it." That's just a statement of fact, and Teagan puffs out their cheeks, shrugging their shoulders. "But that's ... kind of the shit we have to deal with. We can't always be with each other, and someday one of us will probably die, and that's horrible. I just -- it's a little like standing at the edge of a familiar old chasm, so I try not to think about it."

They pause, then, and rather than answer immediately, Teagan eats their last piece of bacon, takes a swallow of their coffee. "I've never actually been afraid of Johnnie before," they confess.

Sturm isn't really looking at Teagan for that reveal, she's staring at the styrofoam cup of coffee like it owes her money. She wasn't exactly expecting that answer, but on some level she anticipated the possibility. How could a ridiculously paranoid Winter not relate?

"Afraid of, not for?" Sturm's face is an impassable mask as she takes a deep breath, quirking an eyebrow at Teagan. She can be so hard to read sometimes. Fuckin' Snowskins...(edited)

"I've been afraid for Johnnie before," Teagan answers, screwing their mouth to the side a little bit and looking kind of -- tired. "When she thought she was a god. When she was ninety nine percent Story and only one percent Person. When she was gone for two years and really all I could do was ask myself 'am I sure that she hasn't become one of Them' and the only thing I had to calm me was the idea that -- if she had become one of Them, then I'd know, because I would have felt our Oath snap."

"I've been afraid for her for years. Sometimes I still am. Not as much as I used to be, but sometimes I still am." They turn their cup in their hands wearily, look down toward the ground. "But even when she was ninety-nine percent Story, and I felt like ... like I was watching her stand on the edge of a cliff, and a strong wind could blow her into the abyss, where she'd be lost forever, I still wasn't afraid of her. Ever."

"Ever."

"Because I knew her, and I knew that she knew me. And I have never, ever doubted, ever in my life, that Johnnie would ever deliberately hurt me."

But then Johnnie didn't know who Teagan was, and the bleak, blank look that slides across Teagan's face as they stare at the floor with those broken-mirror eyepits is one which defies accurate description. They never doubted Johnnie, they never feared her, until the day that Johnnie looked at them and didn't recognize them.

Sturm's arm retracts from it's place 'round Teagan's middle for long enough that she can clear the to-go containers off of the bed, and set her own coffee cup on the bedside table.

She turns to an old box of records -- one of the few things she actually brought up from her family's place -- situated beside that terrible, ugly couch of hers. A Morphine album is plucked from a sleeve, placed placed on the spindle, and the sultry sounds of Mark Sandman's crooning begin to pad the dark corners of the room.

"If it helps to hear, I'm... pretty afraid of Johnnie, too. Before the Tree, it was mostly just Winter Paranoia," Sturm mutters after gently closing the door. When she returns to the bedside, she reaches for Teagan's coffee cup, placing it beside her own, and then helping them into the bed rather than just sitting at the edge. Pillows are fluffed and propped up properly. Mirrorskins are appropriately covered with covers. Then finally, Snowskins join them in bed for cuddles.

"I'm sorry you're having to deal with this," Sturm wraps both arms around Teagan, and pulls them to her chest. "It's a... fucked up, inconvenient thing -- and it totally blows to feel like that -- but they're your feelings to have. You're allowed that, and feeling them isn't going to cause the world to fall apart around you."(edited)

"I'm not supposed to be afraid of Johnnie," complains Teagan as the weight of the whole thing just sort of ... settles on them like a weighted blanket dragging them down. "I don't want to be. I want to never be afraid of any of you. That's the whole ... that's the whole point, you're supposed to all be the people I'm never, ever afraid of." In all of that complaining, though, they just sort of sit there, now. They've hit the end of their ability to bustle around and pick things up and put them down again for the benefit of their motley, at least for a little while, and they turn their face into Sturm's chest. Bundled into bed like a recalcitrant toddler, they're snuggled up, and then boobs.

Boobs do help. This is a fact.

They let out a heavy sigh. "Sigrun wants to teach me how to be better at protecting my brain, and yours, and... everyone should learn it, I think. But. I don't. Want. This." Thanks for explaining real good, Teags.

Sturm runs a hand through Teagan's hair, gently mussing it, and then brushing it back into place before repeating the process. "I know you don't. It's not supposed to be like that, but sometimes shit just doesn't follow Supposed To Be the way it should, y'know?"

The music continues to play at a low volume in the background, and Sturm hums along with the slurring bass guitar line as she continues to dote on Teagan regardless of their obstinacy.

"I think learning how to protect our brains is probably a really good move. Especially Johnnie. Having strong Wyrd is a double-edged sword, and it's honestly a wonder this is the first time she's taken a hit this bad." There's a pause and she sighs - provably causing Teagan's mirror-y skin to fog up from the close proximity to her cool breath. "... and I feel that. I don't want it either, but." She brushes her lips against Teagan's forehead. "We're here. We have it whether we want it or not. We're allowed to feel shitty while we figure out what to do with it."(edited)

The sound that comes out of Teagan next is, quite literally: 'Meeeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.' A high, petulant whine, and they thrash a little bit in Sturm's arms. If that seems like what a cranky toddler would do, that's... about what it sounds like to Sturm, too. Teagan has just, finally, run out of grown-up. Run out of cope. Run out of 'I can do this, I can take care of everyone.' It's all gone. Now all that's left is baby.

They shove their face into her shoulder and repeat that 'mehhhhhh' sound.

Sturm doesn't say anything else. There's probably nothing to say that would help more than giving Teagan a safe, judgement-free place to thrash in her embrace, and be frustrated for a little while without having to worry. No worries, Sturm can carry the 'I can do this' for a little bit.

"I got you," Sturm mumbles. "You don't have to fuck with it right now. I got you."(edited)

Somewhere in the middle of the thrashing, Teagan just buries their face into Sturm's shoulder, and takes a deep, long breath. The subtle choking in the back of their throat starts to resolve into something that sounds a little like -- they're hyperventilating, and their face never gets pulled away from her shoulder. One of their arms flings around her neck, and then there's a wet spot... on her shoulder??? Where they have mashed their face against said shoulder??? While they make these weird... choking... sounds?

There's a minor moment of concern, but Sturm shifts herself into a more upright position when she realizes what's happening, pulling the Mirrorskin into her lap. She wraps both her arms around Teagan, and one hand cradles the back of their head as she rests her chin on their shoulder. It may be a... ridiculously rare occurance, but there is literally nothing worse in the whole-ass world than having someone comment on how unusual it is to see you cry.

Sturm gently drums her fingers on Teagan's back -- the way she used to way back when they just pined, and thought longingly about touching one another -- to the rhythm of the song, and does her best to wrap the mirrorskin's entire body in hers.

'Cause sometimes you just want someone to hold you while you cry.