You cannot change what you are, only what you do.

[metalicarus]

The room was too quiet. The only sound that accompanied his thoughts was the ticking of the clock on the wall and that was too loud. It reminded him that time would keep moving even if he sat here, nothing was going to change just because he didn't move and, most of all, time only ever moved onwards.

As much as he may want to, he couldn't wind back the clock and undo what had been done. He didn't regret his decision to fly into space and save his best friend, without him Joe would have drifted forever and none of them would have seen him again, at least now Francoise wouldn't have to cry anymore. But...maybe it would have been better if he hadn't been saved, if he'd just died like he'd been prepared to do. Of course, sitting there, alive, it was harder to find that kind of resolve again. But, in the end, what was the cost of his living?

He looked down at his hands and how his wrists ended in the crease of a panel, the first sign of a difference. His eyes followed up from his wrist to his shoulders and then back down his own chest, creases ran along the surface of his too-pale skin like a web. They were closed now, but he knew it only took a second, a thought, and nearly all of them could flair up, open, or even separate to allow him better maneuverability and speed.

He knew this was like Pyunma, the doctor had only been trying to save him, to make him stronger. But he wasn't like the eighth cyborg, he couldn't have plated armor to defend from hits; he needed to be fast and light and aerodynamic. What he now had in speed and evasiveness he had gained at the cost of the defense he didn't have much of to begin with. He'd always been light on defense and built more for the get in quick and hit hard tactic rather than the barrel through approach for Albert or G, but he felt fragile and he hated it. Logically, he knew he could still take a hit better than most people, but he would have to rely more on not being hit in comparison to what he'd had before.

It was frustrating beyond belief, he didn't want to feel like this...and he certainly didn't want to look like this. He understood now, what his partners had been through and how they felt about being mostly machine. And it sucked. But it was more than even that. He looked up and into the mirror across the room where someone unrecognizable stared back. Blue eyes, finer features, and blonde hair stood out like beacons and he couldn't take his eyes off of them. Part of him thought that maybe, if he looked long enough and hard enough, he'd be able to see something that told him yes this was still Jet Link...but he hadn't found it yet.

Everyone always said it was what was inside that counted, not outside, but when you couldn't recognize anything of yourself, it was like you were in someone else's body, like one of those movies where it's some mistake and by the end of it everything would be back to normal. Except there wasn't an ending like that waiting for him, only blue eyes, blonde hair, and panels.

Comments

[copesetic]

Hearing his name so gently breathed into the room sends a thrill through Albert. It hasn't been as long for him; there were trysts, one night stands just for he hell of it, trying to get on with his life and do what people did, but in true 004 form he'd never revealed his full name. It was his number, or his last name to keep distance, but Jet who knows all three and calls him by his first...

The German is more than happy to give Jet what he wants, what they both want, and he starts moving at a brisk pace, holding Jet's hips in place with one hand as he moves, the other hand returning to give attention to Jet's own arousal, not wanting to leave the other cyborg unfulfilled in that way either.

After only a few short moments, Albert decides this isn't close enough, not nearly. He pauses, shifting backwards and hooking his arm around Jet's waist to pull him into a sitting position in the German's lap, consequently driving himself deeper and letting out a heady gasp against Jet's back, holding him close and breathing hard right against the American's spine. He presses his face against that flesh, kissing and biting and still moving his hand on Jet while the other holds the younger man against him, metallic palm and fingers splayed out against pale synthetic flesh.

[metalicarus]

A thrill rushed through him when Albert finally moved and decided against stifling himself for the rest of the evening, it just wouldn't be possible. He moved as Albert directed and could feel the German slide deeper into his body causing those pleasured sounds to only get louder. Albert's breath on his spine sent shivers through his body and he decided he'd finally had enough of the 'no touching' rule that had been put on him at first.

He maneuvered his hands out from the blue silk's hold and threw the tie to the ground, forgotten the moment it was off his skin. One of his hands splayed out over the hand on his torso while the other sought desperate purchase on the older man's side, hip, other hand, anything that he could grab onto.

[silberfuchs]

The contact of fingers on his and Jet's hand groping to find purchase makes Albert chuckle, a warm noise from deep in his throat. He's surprised his partner lasted that long with his hands tied. He knows Jet to be incredibly tactile and forcing him to keep his hands to himself had been a form of punishment, but he feels sorry for it now. Sorry the he denied himself one of the things he loved most about this sort of activity with Jet. It's just how much the blond clutches and clings and holds on as if for dear life, how invested and carried away he gets. How wanted and moreover accepted it makes Albert feel.

He curls his fingers around Jet's, capturing them in a measure of hold that's not painful but definitely secure and affectionate even as he picks up the pace with his hips. He's getting close and he's fairy certain Jet can't take much more with the shivers that he can feel running through the thinner man's frame. Albert pulls his other arm around his partner's waist, taking that groping hand with it and holding it just like the first. The German pants and groans against his back, still jostling Jet up and down in his lap but keeping his arms tight around him. "Jet..."

[metalicarus]

He felt like he was surrounded. Albert's arms wrapped tightly around him, his breath at Jet's spine, hearing his name in that voice he'd come to love more than any other, it was like there was nothing left but him and Albert and he couldn't find anything wrong with that.

He could tell he was close and he was pretty certain Albert was too. He moved his hips in time with his lover's movements in an effort to help them both reach the edge that much sooner. "Al-!" The slight change caused him to gasp and his whole body to tense, his hands clenching tightly around the metal ones on his body.

[silberfuchs]

He's not sure how long that peak lasts. It feels like an instant and an eternity all at once, but in its wake comes a form of clarity that Albert's waited nearly three decades to regain. He slumps a bit, cheek resting on Jet's back and arms still loosely holding the other man against him. It's nice, the coolness of Jet's synthetic skin against his cheek. He'd never had time to get used to that, not before Jet had gone, but he savors it now. Maybe it isn't the same shell as before, this one of metal instead of honest flesh, but it's still Jet, it's still precious and comforting.

He plants a light kiss again in the middle of Jet's back, so certain now that this had been the right decision, that letting Jet back in is the right thing. He can't stay closed off forever. He doesn't want to. With Jet here, he doesn't need to.

This is the world he'd wished for, silently, while Francoise had made her own wish. This was the foolish little hope he kept clinging to despite all his wealth of experience stacked against it. This is home. This is peace.

Albert curls his fingers more securely in Jet's, a silent thanks for staying.

[metalicarus]

At first, he couldn't think of anything, everything was purely feelings and sensations as he felt them both tumble over that edge he'd been aiming for. In an instant the loneliness and the seeming cold of the last several years were overshadowed by warmth and love and the familiar feeling of being with the most important person in his world. He hadn't felt this safe and secure since that moment, years ago now, when he lay in Albert's arms after waking up in this new body.

His heart panged with the feeling of loss that spiked up when he thought of all the years they'd wasted being petty and stubborn and how it had been mostly his fault, not completely, but mostly. He wasn't going to let any of that ruin anything again, he was going to make it up to Albert and he wasn't going to be so stupid as to leave the arms that made him feel human and accepted again.

With a quiet but shuddering breath, Jet slowly moved and changed positions so he could face the older cyborg. He pushed the German into leaning back against the couch and pulled the blanket--that had long since fallen to the floor--up and around both of their shoulders as he settled back onto his partner's lap. One of his hands sought the other's once more as he silently peppered Albert's jaw, chin, and lips with light and simple kisses. He felt a bit like he should say something, like there was something that needed to be shared, but his words had failed him a while ago and he was left with only his actions and the desire to remain as close to Albert as possible.

[silberfuchs]

A slow breath escapes Albert and all the remaining dregs of his misgivings go with it. He pulls Jet in close again after the blanket is retrieved, smiling gently at the attention the younger man gives him, little kisses, all loving and honest. He returns the gesture with a slow kiss of his own, chaste and warm, before cradling the back of Jet's head with his hand and guiding him to laying with his head on Albert's shoulder.

"I do have a bed you know." It's an amused comment, said with the obvious knowledge that they likely wouldn't be using it that night. The couch is good enough, even if Jet has to pull his legs in tightly to avoid hanging off the end. It's so perfectly ordinary, something that could happen to anyone else, that it gives the silver-haired cyborg a warm feeling in his chest.

He makes no move to get up, simply adjusting the blanket around them and loosely dropping his arms to hold Jet once more, fingers resting lightly on the plates of his mid and lower back. He lets his eyes drift shut, focusing on how this feels. On how good and right it feels to have his partner, the person he loves, back in his arms.

He rubs small, light circles with his thumb, slowly tapering off as Albert drifts to sleep.