makinglies | Pretty Woman

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Pretty Woman

There were still dying ribbons of pink resting on the horizon when Jet settled in against the outside wall of the strip club. He could hear the bustle and voices of customers coming in for the night around the corner but didn't bother to look. He didn't care.

One, two, cigarettes and two other people stepped into the mouth of the alley. The shorter one turned to face the taller one and wrapped his arms behind their neck to pull the taller man into an intense kiss. They exchanged a few words, the shorter man kissed his friend again then saluted as he turned into the alley and walked up towards Jet.

The red head watched as the taller shadow seemed to hesitate a moment before finally leaving, then turned his attention to the man who'd settled in beside him with his own cig.

"Thought we agreed you weren't gonna hang around out here by yourself anymore."

Jet shrugged. "No one's really around yet. Besides, I got done with my stuff early and decided heading over was easier than hanging around."

Bucky didn't say anything to that, just gave a mildly irritated grunt and worked at the stick in his mouth instead. They were better at silence when it came to those heavier issues like why Jet wasn't supposed to hang around on his own.

Jet wasn't like Bucky, he didn't pack as much punch on his own, though he did have his height. Beyond that, Bucky had Steve who never failed to walk the brunette to and from work like an overprotective watchdog. Jet had been present for the arguments that had ensued about Bucky feeling like Steve didn't trust him to take care of himself, but those arguments had stopped after one night when a customer had gotten really handsy with Buck -more than any other customer before- and after the night when Bucky had found Jet behind the club after that one guy went too far.

That had been over a year ago and where Jet lacked a body-builder-esk boyfriend, he had his own methods of protection. It wasn't even really that he wanted a boyfriend like Steve, he had his classes and his job and plenty of things that made having a boyfriend difficult, but he'd be lying if he said the idea of having someone care that much about him didn't sound appealing.

Too bad he was a stripper and guys like Steve didn't come out of the woodwork very often.

"Come on, we should head in and get ready. You know Jackson hates it when we smell of smoke."

Jet nodded and stomped out the butt of the cig before leading the way through the back entrance and into the backrooms.

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He'd almost completely forgotten the encounter with the attractive man at the club, he had plenty of other things to think about instead. Like the auditions for the musical that got announced.

He hemmed and hawed about it so much that even Bucky got tired of him and said if Jet didn't go, he'd toss the red-head onto the stage himself day-of. So Jet practiced and practiced, every time he had a chance, he was dancing.

By the time the day of the auditions came around, he felt like his chest would burst with how hard his heart was beating. What i they thought he was awful? What if they actually liked him? He wasn't sure which option was more terrifying.

The fact the auditions were held with the rest of the hopefuls watching didn't make him nervous, although it was clear how a couple of them got self-conscious from it. Not all of them though, there were plenty of very talented people there and that made him nervous.

Then he stepped on stage.

The lights made everyone else vanish and the second that music started, his nerves didn't matter anymore, he just started dancing. It was going well until he could hear the music strain and break the tempo as the pianist messed up the chords. Annoyance flared through him, but he tried to keep going. After his performance was over, Jet snuck off to the piano to have a word with the pianist. After all, it was amazing how he hadn't messed up once the entire time and only just now while Jet was on.

He rounded the piano, irritation brewing...and stopped short once he finally got a good view of the man. He'd pulled his hat down and his jacket up, but Jet could see the silver hair peeking through and that defined jaw he'd admired for the time he'd been staring at him.

"Hey! You're that guy!"

It's the same tune he'd played for eight dancers before and he'll have to play the same one for almost twenty after but with Jet on stage Albert just can't make his fingers behave in the way they're supposed to to keep playing. They freeze up every time the redhead moves to his side of the theater because Albert's eyes stray from the music to the stage. And this time, this time it's not for sex, there's no gratuitous shaking or dipping, just raw art and grace, tugging at the German's heart with the emotion that's obviously behind the drive to perform. Even with Albert's imperfect playing, they would be fools not to cast Jet.

And then the audition is over and there's a break called. Albert comes back to reality just in time to find the taller man bearing down on him like a stork, looming over the piano bench from one side and causing Albert to duck as if he's been struck.

Scheisse, now he's 'that guy'.

He nearly runs. As it is, he pops up and gathers his music books in a hurry, pulling his hat down over his eyes almost like he could disappear into it. There's a mumbled 'I have to go' and then he's gone, leaving behind a nondescript blue notebook under the piano bench.

He was tempted to call after him or try and catch him, but he hesitated and then the guy was gone. Probably for the best. Almost no one knew about Jet's job and out of fear of losing any possible audition opportunities in the future, he would rather it stayed that way.

Instead he glanced at the door before turning to look at the piano. A bit of blue beneath the bench caught his eye and he fished it out before returning to his seat. The rest of the auditions went unnoticed as he flitted through the pages in the binder. It was music and notes, some of it printed and some of it handwritten. None of it had a composer listed and based on the how the hand writing on the notes and on the music was the same, he was going to guess that guy had written this. Was it original? He didn't know enough about classical music to tell, but Bucky knew some from an old fling he'd had years ago, he'd told Jet about it. The auditioners were dismissed with a promise of results posted within the next week and Jet hurried home to show his friend the binder.

"Take a look at this, does it look familiar to you?" Jet rudely shoved the binder on top of the book in Bucky's lap once he'd walked in. The other man grunted and made a noise of annoyance before opening the cover to have a look. He'd gotten about half way through by the time Jet flopped down on the couch and he looked up, blue eyes bright with curiosity.

"Where'd you get this from? It's not yours."

Jet shook his head and curled up on one end. "Nope. It belongs to that guy, you know, the one from the club who bolted? He was at my auditions of all things, playing the damn piano. I went to talk to him and he bolted again, but I guess he forgot that."

Bucky looked far off for a moment, considering whether to tell Jet that guy had been coming to see the younger man consistently for weeks...and now he was at their college? That seemed...off. Or it could be a coincidence. There was no need to send paranoia into the picture when he didn't need to; Jet didn't need to think every guy who showed interest in him was a threat. He'd tell him later.

Instead, he flashed a devilish smirk in the red-heads direction. "Maybe it's just you. Something about you just screams 'run in the other direction.'"

"Shut up!." Jet glared and Bucky laughed at him. Then something gleamed in his eye and Jet knew he'd just had an idea, it was one of those faces. "What are you doing?"

Bucky stood and took one of the printed pieces of sheet music over to the piano he'd bought Steve for his birthday only a couple years ago. (It had taken a lot of extra time at the Onyx and months of saving, but he'd finally managed it. Besides, the look on his boyfriend's face had been worth it.) He put the paper on the piano and sat back down, closing the binder and leaving it on the coffee table. "I'm curios to hear this music. Don't tell Stevie where it's from, he won't play it otherwise."

So they waited.

It's not long before Steve gets home from work. Aside from taking the odd illustration job, he works both at the campus coffee shop and a nearby retirement home for veterans. Tonight he's coming from the home, evidenced by the fact that Bucky is actually here instead of mooching free cappuccinos from his boyfriend (which Steve always ends up paying for at the end of his shift, a fact he's kept secret from Bucky since for some reason unknown to the blond, Bucky enjoys being able to gloat that it's a perk of dating Steve. He guesses it still is even if the drinks are paid for.)

He flashes a hello grin to both of the other men in the apartment and drops his folio down against the recliner neatly. "Hey guys, what's up?"

The question is dropped as Steve disappears into the kitchen for a moment to retrieve a pop, but he stops short at the sight of music on his usually bare piano. "What's this?"

Bucky smiled and offered the customary 'not much' in response, although he couldn't help but watch the way his boyfriend moved, it was to the point of distraction sometimes. But right now, they were on a mission.

Steve's observation received nothing more than a half shrug as Bucky positioned himself so he was sprawling across his seat. "Nothing, really. Just a small bit from this show Jet's trying for. We thought maybe you could give it a shot to hear what it sounds like, whaddaya say?"

"Oh, is it to rehearse? You should have moved the table." There's precious little room to dance in their tiny apartment so sometimes, when Jet needs the space, they'll shove all the furniture into the hall or against the walls to give the youngest of their number the room to move around freely. Still, sometimes Jet likes to just listen to it first so Steve sets himself down on the bench and begins to play.

There's nothing notable about how Steve plays piano. It's rudimentary, no chords, just notes, but the melody comes through with a soft and melancholy rhythm that's somehow hopeful even as its sad. When the last note hangs in the air, Steve takes a minute to breathe in slowly before turning to Bucky and Jet. "That's really beautiful."

He can't shake the feeling that whoever wrote this must be incredibly lonely. "What show is it for?"

Whatever he'd been expecting it to sound like, that wasn't it. It sounded good and even made him feel a little sad. He glanced over to Jet and could tell his friend was thinking the same thing.

Who the hell was this guy?

Once Steve was finished, Bucky stood and bent over to fetch a kiss from the blond as he plucked the paperback up. "It's not. It really belongs to that guy Jet danced for and sent running a few weeks ago. You know, that guy."

He hadn't told Jet about the guy showing up every week to see him, but he'd told Steve, just in case they had to go take care of him or at least scare him off.

"We were curious, so thanks for playing it." He flashed Steve a cheeky smile as he replaced the page in the binder. He was probably in trouble for tricking Steve, but so be it.

"Bucky!" Steve sounds indignant and disappointed at the same time. "I hate it when you lie to me, c'mon. And this is someone's private work! How would you feel if someone picked up your print folio before you were done?"

He stands and plucks the binder from Bucky's hands. "He comes in the coffee shop sometimes, I'll give it back to him and apologize. Or..."

Steve's attention turns to Jet instead, thinking he could convince the redhead to do it instead. It'd be safe in the middle of the cafe; if the guy made Jet uncomfortable, Steve could be there in less than a minute to break it up, but he has the sneaking suspicion that this guy - despite what Bucky's said - is anyone dangerous. In fact, judging from the music and his stand-offish behavior, he just sounds lonely and shy. On a hunch, Steve looks at the front inside cover of the binder, before placing it in the musing Jet's lap. "Why don't you return it to your mysterious A. Heinrich?"

"What?" Jet jolted and looked up at Steve like he'd grown a second head. He couldn't be serious, right? Except that looked like his serious face.

Jet opened the cover and looked for the 'A. Heinrich' written in the same handwriting as the rest of the binder. Heinrich, huh? What if he did go and meet this guy? It's not like Steve wouldn't be there to keep watch if need be. Besides, there was something about the guy, something that made him curious.

"I dunno, I guess I could." He looked to Bucky to get his help, but the brunette shrugged while also managing to look like a kicked dog for his reprimand. Jet looked back to Steve.

"When does he usually show up?"

Despite having just reprimanded Bucky, Steve shoots a brief, bright smile at his boyfriend. They have a private little bet going over what will happen with the mystery man, Bucky staunchly convinced that the guy is a creeper and they'll have to end up with a restraining order or the bouncer at the club putting the guy out on his ass and Steve thinking he's really just awkward and shy (though he doesn't dispute that his visits to the club are somewhat creepy, regardless of intent). Jet bridging the gap finally will settle it.

"Not usually when I'm working but I see him Mondays after classes sometimes. He's always near the fireplace in the big ugly high backed chair in the corner." Usually writing while he has a tea. Steve's never had chance to make him a drink and learn anything about him as he usually comes in for the late night and the guy's already ensconced in his spot scribbling away in a notebook with glasses perched halfway down his nose. Steve always thought he was some sort of professor and gave him his space.

Bucky rolled his eyes at Steve and Jet decided not to ask; whatever that was about, it was just them.

Instead he thought about the question at hand: was he going to try and approach this guy who kept running off the minute Jet said anything to him? It clearly wasn't just because he'd danced for him if he'd run off during auditions too. Unless, of course, he was afraid people would see them together and somehow know he'd gone to the Onyx. Maybe he had a reputation he was trying to save. Maybe he was a professor at their school and he'd recognized Jet as a student and had run because of that.

That thought--that he viewed Jet as some stigma, a blemish on his good name--just made the red-head mad. Now he had to confront the guy to either tell him off or get a straight story from him.

"I guess I'll go over on Monday, then. Wish me luck, I guess."

"Good luck." Steve gives a grin, then sobers up a little. "And if anything happens, I'll be there. I'll come in early just in case, ok?"

Steve may be more lenient about how protective he is of his friend, but he won't forget what had almost happened in the alley outside the club. He wasn't there, it was Bucky who'd done the real rescuing, but ever since then both of Jet's roommates have been on high alert. No one's going to harm Jet while they're around.

* * *

Days later and a weekend gone (where Bucky might note that Heinrich didn't show up to the club for once), the Sparrow's Nest campus coffee shop has its usual quiet murmur of students after a hard first day of the week, all grumbling into their drinks. True to his word, Steve had come in almost an hour early but still missed the silver-haired guy coming in; he's already in his chair when the New Yorker pulls on his apron.

He keeps an eye on their target as he goes about his duties, friendly and polite as ever to every customer until he sees Jet come in. They don't exchange words, just a gesture from Steve towards where Heinrich is sitting and then he needs to go pour more coffee, but the meaning is clear enough. Go get 'im.

Jet loitered near the entrance a moment, making it seem like he was waiting for someone when he was really just waiting to see how cold his feet were about to get. He picked at the sleeve of his thin shirt, the conversation from that morning running through his head for a moment. Bucky had teasingly suggested Jet get dressed up for his 'date' to which Jet had shoved him out of his room and thrown on the plain black long-sleeved shirt and worn jeans, the only remarkable thing about either being the lower than average cut of the shirt's collar, but it was the last thing that anyone could call 'dressing up.' Much to Bucky's annoying amusement.

It really only took a moment or two before he decided his feet weren't so icy he had to turn back and made for the little cluster of chairs towards the back of the space. He came up from behind the guy--mostly by design, but it meant he wouldn't be spotted--and quickly plopped himself down in the chair across from 'Heinrich.'

He set his backpack on the floor beside him and began digging through it with only one glance up at the older man to know he had his attention.

"Don't run off this time, Heinrich."

Once he'd grabbed the blue binder, he pulled it out and held it out between them. "You left this. I coulda just tossed it, so do me a favor and answer me this: what's your deal? Why is it that the last two times I've seen you, you've run off like I had the plague. I mean, I know you've been coming to see me dance every week since that first time, so what is it?"

Not that he'd known that before today, but he was just going to act like he had. Truthfully, he'd never noticed and Bucky had only let him know that morning, probably as some last attempt at a warning to be careful.

Either way, he waited for an answer, deciding that if the guy took off now without answering him, Jet would wash his hands of the whole damn thing and forget about it.

He knows my name, is the first fluttering thought that runs through Albert's head before he remembers that's not supposed to happen and his anxiety tries to choke him. It makes him very still, barely moving or even showing signs of breathing as he gingerly takes the binder as offered, unable to even show how relieved he is to have it back. He'd been working on several pieces in it for months and the fugue at the front he'd started back in Germany and had gone through so many iterations he's not certain where it will come out just yet. He'd thought he'd have to start all over.

"Thank you." Albert's voice is a soft murmur, or at least that's what he intends. Instead it comes out harshly and he immediately regrets even saying that much and has to swallow down the desire to bolt. And oh Gott he knows about Albert revisiting the club. Had he seen him? He must have. How could Albert have even thought he was going to be sly about this? What was the point? He'd just wanted to watch, but then there'd been that audition and now Jet is looking at him with those brown eyes, hard and angry but still curious and Albert's heart is pounding fit to burst and he can't breathe.

"I-I..." It's more than a wheeze than a word, but Jet's cornered him and there's no way he can just run now.

"I..." He clutches the corners of the binder, sharp edges digging into his fingers.

"I didn't know how to talk to you." You're so bright, how could I talk to you?

Jet's hard look turned to one of honest confusion. Talk to him? He wanted to just talk to him? Why? Usually, the only reason anyone from his job wanted to talk to him was to try and sweet talk him into bed, otherwise they just cared about the show. The only reason he didn't think the former was Heinrich's case was because those people were often much more forward or charismatic. This guy was just painfully shy.

"Like a normal person, not some guy creepin' around and giving my roommates stalker vibes."

He was still confused as to why this guy would want to talk to him, but he was curious too and he didn't seem so bad now that Jet had gotten more than two words out of him. The younger man leaned back in his chair and relaxed a little more, hoping that would make it feel less like an interrogation.

"You invite me to a public place and start talking. We're in a public place, so now you just gotta do the talking." He hesitated a moment and glanced away before looking back, his tone going softer by degrees. "What's the 'A' stand for?" He gestured to the binder for context.

Jet takes pity on him, he can see that for what it is, and so the German makes a valiant effort to stay where he is instead of bolting despite just how hard his heart is pounding in his chest. "Albert."

Silence reigns awkwardly for a long moment, then Albert looks down, unable to keep up eye contact, but still he doesn't run. "I never meant to be creepy or scare you, I just..."

He swallows. "I've never felt-" No, that's wrong. That's awkward and creepy too. "I've never seen anyone dance like you." Better.

Another beat.

"Is Jet your real name or a stage name?"

The compliment about his dancing was nice and actually caused a small smile to tug at the corner of his mouth. It doesn't drop even as he non-noncommittally shrugs. "It's the only name I go by, just leave it at that."

He sat up a little more, that curiosity causing all of his attention to be on the other man. "My turn. You wrote all of that in that binder, right? Are you a musician? A professor here or something?"

"I'm not a professor, no. I'm a student." He smiles a little wry smile. It makes him look younger than his thirty years but not by much. "Old for it, I know, but I never had the chance for any higher learning until a few years ago."

Somehow Jet's easy to talk to and Albert's nerves abate enough that he no longer looks like he's about to run for the door at any moment. "You're a student here, aren't you? Are you studying dance?"

Something about the way he asks hints that he may be disappointed if that's not the case.

Edited 2014-07-25 05:48 (UTC)

There's something in that question, something Jet can't pinpoint but it seems almost...hopeful, which didn't seem right, why would he be hopeful? Maybe it was the same way Jet was so eager to know more about Albert's music: he liked it. It was pretty clear the guy liked Jet's dancing, otherwise he wouldn't have come to the club every night.

"Yeah, I am, to both of those. And for the record, you're not that old, I've met older students than you so it's nothing to be all embarrassed about." Although, none of those students had been nearly so attractive to Jet. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd found someone so attractive; his strong jaw and shoulders, his peculiar yet fascinating eyes, even the sound of his voice...it left Jet staring a little too long.

"Anyway...I know why you ran from me in the auditions...why'd you freak out so bad the night your friends bought that dance for you. I didn't think it was that bad." He said it with a bit of a playful smirk, but he was honestly curious.

"Are you married or something?"

The wheels turning in Jet's head are almost audible to Albert as the younger man seizes him up, trying to figure him out. He's not embarrassed about being a student still, far from it, but having someone across from him who actually makes him feel again makes it hard for Albert not to squirm internally even if outwardly he's frozen still.

And then that inevitable question and he seems to sag just a little, though the German never actually moves. His eyes fall to the carpet and a cloud seems to roll over his expression.

"No," he says softly, barely a noise over the general static of the cafe's patrons. "I was, once, but not anymore."

She's gone, buried, and yet here Albert is chatting up someone barely over half his age. What is he doing? It makes him feel sick at himself, his so long held grief warring internally with whatever spark Jet's reawoken within him, a battle that only throws him in a trench of guilt from which he can find no escape route.

Albert rises from his chair, picking up his bag and sliding the binder into it. "I'm sorry for the way I've acted. Thank you for returning my music; I won't bother you again."

It's better this way. He's better alone, where he won't be confusing bright and talented men with his emotional baggage.

For one second he thinks he's screwed everything up and there's a sliver of panic that slices through him, completely throwing him off guard. It leaves him sitting in his chair. For a moment. Then he's up and catching up with the older man.

"Hey! Would you stop doing that? It's rude to just get up in the middle of a conversation like that."

Why did he care? He clearly said something to upset the guy, he should just let it go and let Albert vanish, he didn't have a stake in this...yet something that had been in Albert's tone and his eyes when he'd talked about his dead wife made Jet want to stay where he was, it made him want to reach out.

Bucky would call him insane. Maybe he was.

"You were talkin' to me just fine, so now why're you running away from me?"

He'd almost made it past Jet, nearly walked out of his life for good without screwing anything up, but the redhead is suddenly there again at his side, working himself up over things that shouldn't concern him, that Albert should never have made concern him but he had through being weak and unfaithful and he tries to just walk through all that Jet is shouting at him but it only serves to make the taller man step right in front of him before they ever reach the door, forcing Albert to explain head on.

"I'm not-" He lowers his voice, somehow seeming small despite his broader frame. "I'm not running, I'm saving you the trouble. I can't do this, be around you without-."

His mouth goes dry, realizing the cafe's gone quiet and every pair of eyes is turned on them, including a very reproving piercing set of blue ones from behind the counter. Albert pulls his collar up around his neck tighter. "I shouldn't feel what I do and I shouldn't have bothered you."

Jet peered at him unforgivingly. He wasn't letting Albert off the hook so easily, not till he got all this sorted out. It almost sounded like Albert was saying...that he felt something for Jet. Maybe honestly felt something for him.

Little alarm bells went off in his head about how he barely even knew Jet, how could he feel anything, what made him different from all those overly handsy guys at his job? But whatever was making him confront the guy in the first place offered a way for him to ignore them. He wanted Albert to feel something for him, to care for him for more than just his body and what it could do, he wanted the chance to get to know this person he'd previously condemned as some potential stalker.

He reached out to pull Albert with him and out of the cafe, only turning to talk to him once they were out, though Jet's voice was still low. "You think you can't even have a crush on someone because your wife died? How does that make sense? You're not cheating cause your feelings don't turn off, that's not how things work. Besides, I don't know the lady, but I'm gonna guess that if she loved you, she wouldn't want you to make yourself into some miserable widower. You don't stay around me? Fine. But do yourself and the next guy or girl a favor and pull your head out of the sand."

He stepped back from Albert, freeing him to run away like he so clearly wanted to. Jet didn't even know why half of that came out of his mouth, it wasn't really his place to say it, but he wouldn't take any of it back when he knew he was right.

No, he knew why he'd said it. He said it because in the same moment he'd let himself hope that someone might like him for who he was, that hope got dashed against the rocks of that same person's past. Jet couldn't help a person who couldn't help themselves.

Edited 2014-08-23 06:50 (UTC)

"What do you know about it?" It's so much harsher than anything Albert had expressed so far, but there's a spark of attitude there, something burning hotter than his even waters. "Do you know how hard it is to even feel something after a loss like that? I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with her, there wasn't supposed to be a next one but then you came along and now everything's mixed up!"

He's shorter than Jet but somehow in his ire he seems to loom, large and imposing with the autumn dusk casting their shadows long on the university cobbles. "I knew where I was before, what I could live without, but you suddenly drop into life and I can't not see you. I don't know what to do with that!"

As if that's somehow Jet's fault, as if everything would be fine if he hadn't ever set foot into that club. Maybe it would have been? But no, something in Albert knows this has to be better than what he was doing before, that something's in motion now that could maybe be wonderful but somehow he does it wrong, everything coming up so very wrong. He's yelling and frightened and feeling all kinds of things he hasn't for years and it just makes him want to-

to-

He looks at Jet with eyes afire, as if some answer could be found there i his gaze.

Jet had very little patience for people yelling at him. After sixteen years of it from his father, he rarely took it from others; at least his instant reaction wasn't to punch the person in the face anymore. Although, in this case, he was tempted to make an exception. Could Albert even hear himself? Because Jet was hearing pain and confusion and definitely something complicated, but he was also hearing a lot of bullshit.

He didn't want Jet around because he made him feel when he hadn't been before. That was probably both messed up and one of the most romantic things Jet had ever heard and this numbskull was pushing it away because he didn't know what to do with it.

"You're scared! You find something that might be better, might make things hurt a little less and you trip over yourself running the other direction! Can't you see how stupid that is? No one can build a wall around themselves, Albert, not one that lasts forever."

He glared, moving himself right into Albert's personal space, defying his frightening tone and stature; he was truly intimidating, but Jet wasn't going to let that be what scared him away.

"Why don't you just take a chance, you coward?" All at once, he wanted to push the other man, run from him and sock him, what happened was Jet leaning in and his fists curling in the fabric of Albert's shirt collar.

It was a few seconds later his brain registered his lips shoved up against Albert's in a firm and enthusiastic kiss; almost as if his body had decided the best way to prove Jet's point was to show the older man what he'd be missing.

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