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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"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.

He was going to yell back, going to end this truly ridiculous argument that all his own foolish behavior had lead to. The strip club, the auditions, the music binder, none of it should have happened and he was going to tell this man, this boy, so and put a stop to everything.

Instead he's caught up in a kiss, his fists finding themselves curling in Jet's jacket, his lips parting just a little, just enough to encourage, his eyelids falling shut so he can simply feel. The energy in it is intoxicating, the fire that keeps Jet alight is something he can almost taste and it's nothing he ever wants to let go of again.

He pulls Jet closer, just an inch, his arms letting go of the jacket in favor of finding how well the lithe man fits in his embrace. He's so viciously lonely and has denied himself for so long that even though there is a voice at the back of his head that warns him away - the same voice that had tried to drown him in guilt minutes before - he can't hear it over the rushing in his ears and the sensation of having someone close enough to touch, to feel, to embrace and kiss.

He's breathless when they finally pull apart, Albert letting go of Jet as if he's been caught doing something fundamentally wrong, but his lips are tingling and his entire body cries out to him for more, even just a little more contact. Anything.

Instead the tops of his ears turn pink and he looks at Jet slack jawed. "You kissed me."

The response was more than he'd been hoping for and the kiss goes a lot deeper and a lot longer than he'd intended. Not that he'd really intended it, it just happened.

By the time the pull apart (not as hasty on his behalf) there's a healthy dusting of red over his face. "You kissed back. You were running your lips so I just..." Used his to get what he wanted. Tried to show Albert that Jet was worth taking a chance for. That he might be able to help with those demons, if the other man let him.

"I'm not sorry. You keep saying you feel things cause of me...what's wrong with giving me a chance?"

"It won't change anything." Albert's hands close into loose fists then uncurl as he looks down at the sidewalk, again that fragile man who'd been sitting by the fireplace in the cafe, the one who'd rather run than fight. "I must be more than ten years your senior and I don't adapt well. I have a routine, a life that's what I'm used to, I can't change so easily. I think of her so often..."

One hand goes to his chest, clasping at the front closure of his jacket to rumple the fabric and still not meeting Jet's eyes. "It may be a terrible wreck and if you leave within a month I won't blame you."

It's as close to a yes as he can give.

It took Jet a moment to parse it all out, but he finally recognized the roundabout 'yes' for what it was and he let a little bit of a smile creep back into his expression.

"Yeah, well, I've never done this before, so we can both figure it out. Okay?"

He'd never had a boyfriend, flings and interests yes, but never an honest-to-god boyfriend. For all he knew it'd be over in a week all because Albert decided Jet wasn't that interesting or because Jet did something wrong and messed it up.

As it was, just standing here in front of the cafe, he didn't know what he was supposed to do or say.

"We should...choose sometime to go out. Talk a little more."

"Why?"

Wait, no, terrible timing. Albert looks irritated at himself, almost pained for a moment before trying again.

"Not that. We should go out, that's a good idea. Get to know each other." He tries to ignore the thrill that goes through him at the prospect to get an answer to his question instead. "I mean, why did you agree to this? I haven't exactly been..."

Normal about this in the slightest. Frankly, he's certain he should have been branded a stalker and slapped with a restraining order instead, not given a chance to actually see where this goes.

"Normal?" Jet unknowingly echos Albert's thoughts because it was true, he'd been borderline creepy to the point Jet felt the need to corner Albert somewhere where Steve could keep an eye on them.

But that look on his face crossed Jet's mind and he shrugged. "Because I'm curious about you, I want to find out more. Luckily for you, I don't think someone creepy could make music that sounds as nice as yours, so you're off the hook for that.

"I've got my reasons...most of them, honestly, I don't know how to say...so just work with me on this and run with it." Maybe someday he'd tell him, if they lasted that long, he really didn't know. How did other people know if they were walking into something amazing or doomed from the start?

"Music?" It's not an answer, but something else Jet said caught his attention. "You played it?"

He doesn't know if he should be upset or not. it's an invasion of privacy, sure, but somehow Jet hearing it didn't seem all that terrible. And Hilda had always said he put more of himself into music than anything, so maybe, if that's what changed Jet's mind about him, she was right.

"...What did you think?"

"I liked it, it sounded...beautiful." It wasn't a word Jet used often to describe things, but it was the most accurate description he could think of for the melody Steve had played.

"Sorry, we were curious and one of my roommates can play the piano, so he played a small bit of it."

He hesitated a moment, but then decided to say what he'd been thinking about the music when Steve had played it, the thought that had made him lost in his head for a while after.

"It seemed...sorta sad. I guess I wanted to know why." Dead wives were probably reason enough for anyone to write sad music, although that just made him feel bad for listening to it, like he'd stepped into something private that he'd never understand.

He's not quite sure what to say. Thank you for the compliment probably, or maybe chastise him for the invasion of privacy, but he's struck dumb for the moment, mind blank. Or maybe not blank, the opposite. Too full of things he could say, things he shouldn't say. He shouldn't keep talking about his dead wife to someone he has romantic intentions with, right? But this relates directly and he's just not sure.

Albert swallows. "I wanted to write something..." He licks his lips nervously. "It's hardly finished. I can't get it right lately."

Ever since that night in the club. He can't keep the tone right.

Jet gave him a curious look and nudged him in a direction away from the cafe, in an attempt to get them walking while they talk.

"Write what? Like, a full song? What's wrong with it?"

In his opinion, nothing, but then he knew nothing about writing music. In fact, him asking Albert what was wrong like he could help was pretty pointless, he probably just looked nosy and dumb instead of genuinely interested like he was.

"Something for her, or about her. I'm not sure." Here he is, talking about her again. He falls into step with Jet without realizing, slinging his bag over his shoulder and digging his hands into the pockets of his long coat. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be talking about her so much, should I?"

He closes his eyes for a moment, snowy lashes barely visible against his pale cheeks. "But there's a certain tone I started with, in the song, years ago now. I haven't been able to capture it again in these recent weeks."

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