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You belong to me
Sep. 26th, 2014 02:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
metalicarusThis stupid party had been a bad idea from the start. He'd had to dress up in some dumb tux and then try and mingle with a bunch of people where the only common ground was the military, politics and world issues and, of course, the popular one was the trouble with America, at least once they found out where Jet was from.
Luckily, none of them knew he'd had a hand in the conflict or even that he'd worked for the NSA, those records had been wiped courtesy of Frannie and Ivan, but they still felt like it was an okay issue to broach. Like there weren't a thousand others Jet would rather talk about.
But even the niceties and the repeated conversations he could get through with little more than a headache and annoyance, he was there to support Albert after all, he was only at this function because of his partner needing to be there and have a 'plus one.' No, the reason Jet was finding this night so incredibly hard to bear was the fact that, since her arrival only ten minutes after theirs, Albert's boss hadn't left his side. She was a constant presence with her hands on him as often as she could manage--true, always a hand on an arm or shoulder, but every graze of contact sent fire through Jet's veins.
It wasn't even just the touches, it was the way she looked at him, or the way she acted as though they were there together and the way she was constantly in his space like she owned it; if Jet weren't against hitting women, he'd have decked her an hour ago. Jet had been trying to catch his partner's eye all night, but it seemed there was always someone talking to one of them or it was that woman monopolizing the older man's time. Jet was pretty sure that if he could kill her with his eyes, she'd be dead a hundred times over.
Jet sat in a chair in a corner, watching as she linked her arm with his and laughed at something someone was saying. Distantly, a clock chimed nine times, marking their third hour there and Jet decided the niceties were over. There was fire in his blood and in his wake as he crossed the room and none-to-gently gripped his partner's unfettered arm. He turned a sharp smile on the bane of this night's existence and gave a very weak response along the lines of it being late and how nice it was to 'meet' her before jerking Albert along with him and towards the elevator that would take them to their room. He didn't pause or let go until the metal doors slid shut behind them.
He'd had enough.
Luckily, none of them knew he'd had a hand in the conflict or even that he'd worked for the NSA, those records had been wiped courtesy of Frannie and Ivan, but they still felt like it was an okay issue to broach. Like there weren't a thousand others Jet would rather talk about.
But even the niceties and the repeated conversations he could get through with little more than a headache and annoyance, he was there to support Albert after all, he was only at this function because of his partner needing to be there and have a 'plus one.' No, the reason Jet was finding this night so incredibly hard to bear was the fact that, since her arrival only ten minutes after theirs, Albert's boss hadn't left his side. She was a constant presence with her hands on him as often as she could manage--true, always a hand on an arm or shoulder, but every graze of contact sent fire through Jet's veins.
It wasn't even just the touches, it was the way she looked at him, or the way she acted as though they were there together and the way she was constantly in his space like she owned it; if Jet weren't against hitting women, he'd have decked her an hour ago. Jet had been trying to catch his partner's eye all night, but it seemed there was always someone talking to one of them or it was that woman monopolizing the older man's time. Jet was pretty sure that if he could kill her with his eyes, she'd be dead a hundred times over.
Jet sat in a chair in a corner, watching as she linked her arm with his and laughed at something someone was saying. Distantly, a clock chimed nine times, marking their third hour there and Jet decided the niceties were over. There was fire in his blood and in his wake as he crossed the room and none-to-gently gripped his partner's unfettered arm. He turned a sharp smile on the bane of this night's existence and gave a very weak response along the lines of it being late and how nice it was to 'meet' her before jerking Albert along with him and towards the elevator that would take them to their room. He didn't pause or let go until the metal doors slid shut behind them.
He'd had enough.
