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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Jet's comment catches Albert off guard and he stares back at the redhead for a long moment, face and ears slowly flushing pink. Of course he found Jet monumentally attractive but even though he'd agreed to give this thing a shot, it hadn't yet occurred to the German that it might be in part because Jet finds him attractive too.

He mumbles some form of 'thank you' and 'I'll try' which get jumbled together into an unintelligible knot of flustered syllables. He should be getting going though, this time not through any desire to run but because the clock tower chimes a quarter of and he has a class several buildings over. Mechanically, because he's still pleasantly ruffled, Albert walks several paces away before realizing something with a start and turning to call back behind him.

"Are you free Saturday evening?"

All in all, Jet was fairly pleased with himself and how this whole thing had turned out. He also made a mental note that Albert was incredibly cute when flustered. He'd have to strive for that again sometime.

He'd actually been admiring the view of Albert walking away when the older man turned around, leaving Jet to start a bit and his face to heat.

"Um...actually, yeah! Did you wanna...this weekend?"

Usually, he worked Saturday nights, but on some whim, neither he nor Bucky had been scheduled for this Saturday. Bucky and Steve had already decided to make a night of it for themselves and Jet had been wondering what he would do with himself to not be that awkward presence. Now he supposed he had his answer.

Albert nods, pulling the collar of his coat up around his chin more to hide his burning face than against the cold. "At Claudette on 5th. 7:30?"

A date. An actual date. He's not sure if he's walking on air or going to be sick, but either way it's something and that in and of itself is a miracle.

"Be there or be square."

He says it as a joke, something he and Bucky would say as a joke because of how dumb the old saying was...but it had slipped out and now his face was in a rivalry with his hair and Jet shifted from foot to foot like he wasn't sure if he wanted to try and ingest one or make a run for it.

"I..um...bye."

Shoulders hunched and mortification palpable, Jet headed for where his next class was to sulk and lick his wounds. Hopefully he wouldn't make such an idiot of himself on their date.

The actual date he was going to go on with a guy he actually thought he might like. It made his heart find new lodgings in his throat.

The week is the longest of Albert's life. Or possibly the shortest. Some days slog by so slowly that the German has to wonder if someone's cramming extra hours into them just to spite him and some fly by so fast he's left feeling windblown and panicky that he doesn't have more time to prepare himself. Not that any amount of preparation will be enough. Even the morning before at work he's startlingly full of energy, alternating between nervous and happy and sometimes both at once. His coworkers aren't sure what's come over him - he hasn't told them to avoid the teasing and the possible exchange of looks that comes from their hearing Jet's name and associating him with 'stripper' - but they don't question it. Albert usual undercurrent of sadness to everything he does isn't present and that's good enough for them.

Six o'clock rolls around and Albert's at home, spending far too much time choosing a blazer. Or should he even wear a blazer? And there's so much grey and black in his wardrobe he has to find something that doesn't look as if he's going to a funeral. But that's really all he's been doing since she died, isn't it? Walking through life as if it's a funerary procession. Can he really subject anyone else to that misery? He panics, slams the closet shut, and decides he can't go.

Six fifteen and he's taken a shower. He stares at his reflection as if it will impart some wisdom to calm his nerves over the date later, or at least tell him that sweeping his bangs to the side looks young and hip instead of just like he's trying too hard. It doesn't. Albert ruffles his hair back into its usual puff of bangs in an irritated huff, wondering how in the hell someone so young could want a date with a grandpa like him and decides he really can't go.

Six thirty and he's found a deep blue button down shirt in the back of his closet, still pressed and in the plastic from a dry cleaner when he'd first moved to New York. It shouldn't fit, but against all odds it does, maybe because he's lost weight? He's not sure, he doesn't pay much attention to that, but when he looks in the mirror with it on, even he thinks it looks good. Only he doesn't have a tie that matches, not one. They're all blue themselves and would look ridiculous and lord he still needs a shave and there's just too much he hasn't taken care of or thought of beforehand and he just really, really can't go.

Six forty-five and he nervously makes sure the oven is off despite not having been used today. He turns all the lights off in each room, flicking the one in the front hall a few times as he tries to decide if he wants to leave it on while he's out. He's never bothered before, he has nothing to steal, but somehow right now it seems a monumental decision. Finally, he simply turns it off, grabs his coat, and makes another monumental decision.

He goes down the stairs of his apartment building, steps out to the street, and calls a cab.

"5th Street and 2nd Avenue please."

Jet's week was a whirlwind of school, studies and work and the near constant thought of his date on Friday. He'd been made to give the full story to both of his roommates when he got home and Bucky had seen to it to tease him at every opportunity, even Steve had told him off near the end of the week. Jet couldn't decide if Bucky was just happy for him finally finding someone he liked and felt comfortable enough to give a try or if his friend was mad because Jet hadn't told Albert off, he certainly knew Bucky was still suspicious and he was constantly afraid the older man was going to hunt Jet's date down and talk to him.

It was worse at work. For the first few days after, he found himself getting more distracted and it was noticeable...so he changed tactics and suddenly every person he performed for was in their thirties with silver hair and strikingly light eyes. It wasn't much of a solution cause then Albert was all the teen could think about and it was a problem when he thought about doing what he was doing with Albert watching.

So he tried not to think about it at all. At least until Friday. He didn't have class or work, so the whole day was dedicated to finishing all of his homework and then fretting about what to wear.

He'd laid out about fifteen different outfits around his room by the time Bucky came in. Despite his constant ribbing, Bucky sat with him and helped him try and decide what to wear. The first one, a combination of dress pants and a button down shirt, he decided was too nice and left him feeling stiff. It was nixed.

The second, a combination of loose jeans and a t-shirt seemed far too casual and felt wrong.

The third, a combination of tight leather pants and a tight black shirt felt too much like something he'd wear to work...which wasn't the message he wanted to send.He didn't want to be 'that stripper kid' to someone he was actually feeling something for.

There was something wrong Jet could pick out with all twelve others which drained Bucky's patience. At the final dismissal he stood and left the room simply calling back 'Then why don't you just go naked? I'm sure he'd be happy with that.' Jet's discarded jeans smacked the older man in the back of the head a second later.

Maybe he just shouldn't go. He probably just seemed like some dumb kid to Albert and he was bound to just make himself look like an idiot. The guy had had a fiance, he knew what a good relationship looked like and what he wanted in a person and what was the likelihood Jet could measure up to that? He very nearly convinced himself and gave up, curled on his bed in his boxers, that Albert wouldn't want him in the end simply because he was a stripper.

That was when Bucky came back and told him 'Any guy worth his salt'll take you anyway and won't define you by what you do.' Jet didn't know if Steve was the prompting behind that, but it was uplifting anyway. Albert wasn't that kind of guy anyway. Right?

In the end, he chose some nice form-fitting jeans and thin black shirt that he threw his leather jacket over. Not a bad look, he supposed, although Steve didn't give him much time to change his mind before sending him out the door. He had no choice but to go the way he was. Hopefully it was good enough

He got to the restaurant just a minute or two after seven and stood awkwardly in the doorway a moment as he looked around. There, at one of the booths, was the intensely attractive date he'd been looking for. He looked damn good in that shirt.

Jet went over to him and smiled a little nervously. Stripping down to nearly nothing in a room full of people? Easy. Saying hello to a handsome guy he was trying to impress? The most terrifying thing on the face of the planet.

"Hey...waitin for someone, good lookin?"

He's early. Albert knows Jet is early because he was even earlier and yet he just sat down. There isn't even water on the table yet. Jet's swaggering demeanor and the low neck of his thin shirt are both distracting enough that Albert has to swallow and stutter once before taking a deep breath and forcing himself to calm down.

He smiles. An awkward little tip of his mouth but it shows in his eyes as he stands to...

Wait, is that how you greet another man on a date? With a woman he knows you stand, maybe embrace, take her coat, and don't sit again until she's seated, but with a man? He's at a loss. So he offers his hand for a shake out of inward panic. "Jet, i-it's good to see you."

Stupid, stupid, a handshake? He's already messing this up!

He was already mentally berating himself for his stupid little come-on by the time Albert gives him that smile and then Jet decides it'd be better if he just melded with the floor instead of continuing to make a fool of himself. But then Albert was offering him his hand and Jet momentarily blanked on what he was even supposed to do with it. Once he figured it out, he wondered if this was the normal way guys met with each other on dates, he'd been ready to go in for a hug or something but maybe that was too personal? This was only their first date, after all, he didn't want to scare Albert off.

He should have asked Bucky what he should expect instead of spending the afternoon fretting over what to wear. Or, no, he should have asked Steve what to expect, Bucky was not a reliable source when it came to the subject of Albert. Unfortunately, Jet just hadn't dated much during his life so now that the date actually really mattered to him, he was finding he had no idea what to do.

"It's good to see you too. You, um, you look nice." Jet offered him a smile he hoped didn't look as nervous as it felt and took a seat across from his date before he could mess anything up by not having the table between them. "So...how was your week?"

"Thank you, so do you." He smooths his shirt out of nerves, feeling awkward without a tie but Jet isn't wearing a tie either so it's probably for the best. He sits as Jet does, wishing the waiter would bring the water and possibly some bread so he had something he could shove in his mouth if he said the wrong thing.

"My week was long. And too short all at once," he laughs a little, trying to sound coy but just coming off as awkward to his mind. "We had a charity ball to arrange for at work this weekend so I was working with the event coordinator at the New York Opera all week on top of course work."

He shifts a bit, crossing his legs under the table to get more comfortable. "And yours?"

"Same." He paused and his eyes darted down to the table's surface before darting back up. "I-I mean about the length. Your week sounds a lot more...well, professional than mine was. That's pretty cool, you know, that you get to do that. The way your music sounds, I bet you're great at your job." It sounded so fancy to Jet, Operas and charity balls and 'event coordinators' that wasn't Jet's reality and he suddenly felt very inadequate next to someone who was much more of an adult than Jet was. His mind briefly flitted to the idea of how Albert might just see him as a child or maybe even just an attractive young thing he wanted to get with...but that didn't seem Albert's style either.

Someone who wrote music like that surely wouldn't be the kind of person Bucky feared he was.

"Event-wise, my week was pretty boring. Just a lot of school and dance practice and work. Even work was kind of slow, a lot of the regulars didn't come in for one reason or another, but it'll probably pick up come Saturday, it always does." People got paid on Friday and then came in with their ones and fives to see the show.

...and talking about his stripper job probably wasn't earning him any points. Then again, if Bucky was right, his stripper job was what got him here and if he wasn't...well, he'd just have to see. It wasn't like Albert hadn't asked.

"Oh, I'm not-... I work for a florist. I was just taking the orders for what flowers they wanted for the gala." Albert wanted to sink into the floor for the mistake he'd made, leading Jet to believe that he'd be allowed to play with the Philharmonic? Though if Jet honestly thinks he's a good enough pianist to make that mistake then he supposes he should be flattered and a bit of a flush does start across the back of the German's neck, though he tries to keep it from spreading.

It's easy to stop it when Jet talks about his job. It's not that he looks down on strippers as a rule; a job is a job, especially in this economy, and sex certainly sells, but the idea of other people - other men - leering at Jet while he winds himself around a pole is less than appealing. In fact, it makes him want to protect the man across from him more than anything but despite their age differences, Jet's still his own man and Albert doesn't want to step on his toes in any way, shape, or form.

"I can imagine," that's innocuous enough, right? Where the hell is that waiter?

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