makinglies | There are no cats in America

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There are no cats in America

Moving to a new country is difficult but if you're a child it seems impossible. True, things had been terrifying with the bombings and soldiers and the news of that their government had been doing behind the country's back. Thirteen years old, but Albert still reads the news, still listens to the radio. Soon after they're on a boat, crammed in with other emigrants chattering in a cacophony of languages, pushing and shoving. There were other children, but mostly Albert opted to keep to himself, helping his mother but otherwise holed up in their tiny shared cabin and waited to see the spines of Lady Liberty's crown welcoming them to what his mother calls "a land of new opportunities". Albert, always a practical child, just hoped it would be a land of fresher air.

It's been a few months since then. They'd arrived at the start of summer with New York City sweltering. With his mother working two jobs and a little saved up, they'd managed to get a small fan and some other things for the little apartment, but despite the hardships they'd managed to make a nice little life for themselves in this new country. Their community on the lower east side is friendly and breathes of home in Dresden, or so Albert feels. He even made friends with the old man who runs the bookshop on the corner, his son having been claimed by the war on the side of the Allies. He'd also been named Albert, and the man would often reminisce in German and sometimes share the haribo candies he'd always have around. He may be the only friend Albert had made, but he was content with that.

Even so, as the weather turned colder and fall set in, Albert's mother enrolled him in school. Albert had always liked school back home, strict as it was, but here in America it seemed all the other boys were so loud and tall and frightening. He'd mostly stayed away from other children since arriving, but now he's been thrown in the front of a class and as the teacher pushes him to introduce himself to the room every eye is on him and he can't help but fidgit and look anywhere except at all the unfamiliar faces.

"Ha-hallo, I-I am Albert Heinrich..." He trails off, brutally self conscious at his accent and flushing a red which he knows reaches his ears. The teacher - Miss Jones - waits for an interminable moment to see if he'll say something else, then simply shoos him to an empty desk with some annoyance and begins to write the day's lesson on the blackboard. Safe for the moment, Albert sinks as low as he can in his seat and pulls his oversized newsy cap down around his ears in an attempt to hide the fact that they're still pink.

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Albert can only watch in horror as Ciro violently grabs Jet, trying to yank him out into the hall in a fit of vitriolic Italian and a cloud of alcoholic haze. He's rooted to the spot, frightened and shocked to silence.

Albert may not be able to move, but Edda is on Ciro in a flash, her left hand grabbing the Italian's meaty fist, not quite able to make him let Jet go but enough to stop him from yanking on Jet's arm. Her German accented English carries through the hall loudly, almost booming despite her cold and deceptively calm tone. "You will stop."

"Or what, Nazi bitch?" Ciro sneers, eyes too bright and stance unsteady and swaying. Even so, he draws himself up, not quite towering but looming forebodingly with the threat of violence.

Calmly and without releasing Ciro's hand, Edda reaches into her skirt pocket and pulls out a small revolver. It's nothing impressive, but right there at point blank it might as well be a mortar. "Or I will shoot you."

Ciro sneered at her as though he didn't believe her, but when a second or two passed and she didn't waver, his drunken mind caught up with the situation and he quickly let go of Jet's arm. The large man took two steps back and looked from Edda to Jet who--despite being startled by the German woman suddenly pulling out a gun on his father--had shrunk back closer to her once he'd been freed.

Anger flared clear as day on the Italian's face and his voice came out as a sharp growl. "Fine. You want something that worthless and weak, you can keep him!" Ciro looked right at his son who couldn't seem to look away despite knowing the verbal lashing likely wasn't over yet. "You're nothing but a walking disappointment, a waste of space. You'll see, it won't be long till they've kicked you out too and then you'll have nothing."

The older red-head turned and left, making no attempt to be quiet about his stomping and angry muttering under his breath. Jet knew why his father had felt the need to have the last word, it was the same reason he'd felt the need to do any of what he'd done over the years: he was projecting his anger and disappointment out at those around him, especially a son that looked enough like him to make it easy. Jet knew he shouldn't take the words to heart, but they cut their way there anyway and made themselves at home.

He stepped out of the doorway but hung awkwardly nearby like he wasn't sure if he was about to head back out of it or not, but he put on a smile anyway. "Thanks. You didn't have to do that. Like I was saying, I'll just get out of here, I appreciate what you've done for me, I don't want to cause you anymore crap."

Edited 2014-04-24 22:40 (UTC)

"Sit down and finish your work." Edda calmly slips the revolver back in her pocket and closes the door with a click. "You will not swear in my house."

Albert, still flat footed and frightened from Ciro's railing and the appearance of a gun from his mother's pocket, finally comes to his senses and hurries over to Jet, grasping his arm tightly. It's nothing like what Ciro had done, all parts rude and chafing, but it's just as tight in Albert's anxiety over what could have happened. His fingers are trembling just a little. "Mutti...?"

"You finish your work too, Süßling." Her voice softens just a little, recognizing the tremor in her son's voice. "Dinner will be soon."

"But Mutti-"

"We will have to find a proper bed for Jet on the weekend."

Albert's eyes grew big as saucers and he looked at Jet excitedly, hands still clasping tightly.

Jet was dumbstruck for a moment and didn't move even with the obvious dismissal. She hadn't wanted him there but now it was like his dad saying 'fine, keep him' had made her change her mind. It didn't make sense to him.

But then, where was the point in questioning when the alternative wasn't really pleasant?

His face went red and his eyes vanished behind copper bangs as he nodded his understanding. "Yes, ma'am." He managed a slightly overwhelmed smile at Albert and moved to lead them both back to the table so they could finish their work.

Honestly, Jet wasn't sure how he was going to be able to concentrate when his thoughts were spinning like a whirlwind.

Somehow they manage to get through their homework and even dinner despite Albert periodically catching himself staring at Jet and silently thanking God and his mother for letting this happen, for rescuing his best friend - his boyfriend? Maybe - but definitely one of the most important people in his life from suffering, pain, and possibly an early grave. It's all he can do to keep himself from throwing his arms around the taller teen and hanging on for dear life.

Edda, for her part, acts as if everything is perfectly normal and even asks Jet about school the same as she does Albert when they sit down to eat, speaking English despite the discomfort Albert had revealed days before. It's good practice, she's reasoned, and the poor redhead has had enough of being left out or made to feel lacking. She'll sacrifice a little dignity if it means the quiet defeated look he'd had when Ciro had attempted to manhandle him away doesn't show up again.

Edda can't stand people mistreating children. Or anyone, in point of fact. She's had enough of that for lifetimes.

But she keeps that to herself, instead instructing the boys to clean up the kitchen then letting them have the rest of the evening while she situates herself with the radio to knit and try to calm down. If Albert notices she's still keyed up he doesn't say anything, instead rushing through washing dishes so he and Jet can retreat to his room - no, their room - and close the door. The second it's shut the German boy throws his arms around Jet's neck and doesn't let go for a long time, face hidden in the taller teen's shoulder like he's wanted to do all evening.

Jet's quiet for the most part during the evening, really only speaking when spoken to, but his own personal atmosphere improves tenfold as the evening gets later. With every hour that passes that someone doesn't yank the rug out from under him, his optimism improves along with his mood and his comfort. He still needed to find his footing here, but it was already feeling more like home than his old 'home' had.

He gave a quiet 'good night' to Edda and retreated to Albert's room. He'd intended to shove his crap into a more permanent and out of the way placement, but suddenly there were arms around him and a face buried against his shoulder and he found his own arms encircling the other teen's waist.

His hold went as tight as it could a moment and he let out a breath some part of him felt he'd been holding all afternoon, before his arms loosened again and stayed firmly around his best friend. "Hey. You alright?"

"I'm fine. I'm better than fine." The words come out muffled, buried in Jet's shirt. After a moment he pops his head up, face flush and alight. "I told you she'd come around."

It's almost a joke since they both know how that went, but beggars can't be choosers and Albert knows that since his mother has now accepted Jet will be staying, she won't go back on her word.

His gaze drops to Jet's arm, the one Ciro had wrenched trying to pull him though the door. One of the bandages he'd put on earlier looks rumpled, at the least, and Albert mentally berates himself for not taking care of his friend sooner. "What about you?"

Jet shrugs. "Sore--my arm really kind of hurts and my face still stings from that iodine crap--but...I can't really complain." He puts on a big smile as though to prove. There's a small tremor still remnant from his father's words and actions, but it's not forced, he does honestly feel better for knowing he doesn't have to go back home ever again.

That he's in a place where he's actually wanted instead of hated and seen to only be good for kicking around.

Without provocation, the taller teen leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to Albert's lips.

"Thank you."

Albert returns the kiss with enthusiasm and when Jet pulls back the German's eyes are bright and there's furious pink spread across his cheeks. "I didn't do anything. Mutti just doesn't like bullies."

He tries to school his expression but he just can't stop grinning, even if concern is more what he's going for. "Does your arm hurt bad? Do you think it's sprained or something? Mutti was a nurse so she can look at it for you if it's bad."

"I think we can agree on that one." His smile only got stronger seeing Albert's, like it was infectious or something. Still, he tested his arm, moving it around to see if it was just a surface level hurt or if something might have actually been damaged. It still moved the same, if only a little more stiffly, so he shook his head in response to the offer.

"Nah, it'll be fine." His smile turned more playful. "Maybe all it needs is a kiss to make it better. Maybe my cheek too."

"That's not real medicine..." He grumbles a bit, face turning pinker, but with a slightly nervous look to the door he does it anyway, stepping in close and raisin Jet's arm so he can kiss where Ciro's fingers had bitten into his friend. A step more and Albert's close enough to kiss his cheek, a light brush of lips just over the bone, the German's own eyes lidded and his mien gentle. He takes both of Jet's hands in his as he kisses the other cheek too, the one without injury just for good measure.

"Better?" His voice is muted and shy but still somehow overwhelmingly happy.

"Definitely."

Jet kisses him on the cheek back and in a rare display of vulnerability, wrapped his arms tight around Albert and simply clung to him as though willing him not to vanish. Not to let any of this vanish.

Although, they didn't feel so rare over the last few days. But right this second, standing here in Albert's room, he felt honestly free and it was all thanks to the teen wrapped in his arms. If it hadn't been for him, Jet probably would have stayed with his parents until something more drastic had happened. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go. At least, he hadn't thought he did.

Jet's hugged him before, mostly to comfort Albert, but the German recognizes this is something else. This is for Jet, not for him, and he accepts it as such, slipping his own arms around the taller teen and pressing his cheek into the redhead's shoulder with the intent to give comfort. One hand slides to the nape of Jet's neck, cradling and holding close, reinforcing that Jet is now safe.

That maybe, if he lets it, this is home.

Albert's grip tightens; maybe this hug isn't just for Jet after all.

They stay that way a while, holding each other, but then Jet pulls away a bit and decides on a new course of action, something both of them might benefit from.

His lips found their way to Albert's temple, down to his cheek and jaw and chin, before settling on the German's neck. Long fingers trace down the broader body with attention and care, grip only turning tight once his hands had found their way to the other teen's rear.

Edited 2014-05-02 15:13 (UTC)

Albert nuzzles into the kisses on his face, returning small ones of his own where he can reach and tracing his own hands on Jet's back over his shirt. It's a tame thing, comfortable yet exciting in its own way with the addition of teenaged hormones to the cocktail, but Jet's bolder than he is and Albert's heart rate jumps suddenly at long fingers on his ass and the press of Jet's tongue on his neck.

He has to swallow a noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper as he clutches tightly and looks furtively towards the door. "J-Jet, my mom is still-" awake, alert, several rooms away but still. yet a shiver rocks Albert's frame and he can't bring himself to actually make Jet stop.

"Then you'll just have to keep quiet, huh?" Jet smirks into Albert's neck and slides his hands up to play at the hem of the other teen's pants. His lips find Albert's again and his tongue presses at his friend's lips to gain entry while long fingers work at button and zipper before finally pushing the material off the German's hips.

He breaks the kiss and runs his fingers along Albert's waist teasingly. "I wanna show you something but you need to sit down or lay back or something."

"B-but--!" Nothing else gets past Albert's lips as Jet is on him again and what's 'finally' for his boyfriend is more like too quickly for Albert.

Well, maybe not too quickly, considering the little puff of relief as his uncomfortably tight pants hit the floor. More shivers roll up the German's spine at the redhead's long fingers tracing patterns along his waist and hips. "A-alright..."

He's not entirely sure what Jet wants to show him, but he'd trusted the redhead before and that experience is more than enough to make him sit on the edge of his bed obediently, blushing so hard even the tops of his ears are red.

Jet smiles brightly at him, though it's a touch lecherous born from the other's response and in defiance of the butterflies in his stomach.

When Albert is sitting on the edge of the bed, Jet moves to sit on his knees in between his friend's legs. Hands reach up tug on boxers and slide them down to Albert's ankles. Jet glances up at him once to gauge his expression before reaching out to wrap his fingers around Albert's length.

There's no warning or explanation, just a pause as Jet mentally says to himself 'why, yes, I am about to do this' before leaning in and taking the tip into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it slowly.

This time Albert gives an audible sound as he's freed to the air of the room and has to resist the urge to pull his shirt down to cover himself. It's ridiculous, he tells himself. Jet's seen him, been inside him, so there's no need to hide. But something about the redhead being face to head with him is equal parts distressing and exciting.

Until Jet takes him into his mouth of course, then distressing and exciting merge together into something that the German can't identify and probably couldn't find words for even if he knew what it was. He feels light headed for a moment as blood rushes from his head quickly, needed elsewhere urgently as he grows from stiff to rock hard in Jet's mouth and hands.

"You're really...!" It's a stupid thing to say, but anything sound stupid right now and he can't quite control it coming from his mouth regardless, not with Jet's mouth so mesmerisingly occupied.

Jet ignored Albert in favor of what he was doing to him, his tongue continuing to swirl around and over the tip until he grew tired of that and decided to continue with his experiment.

In one fell swoop, his mouth dove down and took most of the older teen into it, his tongue continuing to run along the shaft while Jet steadily began sucking at him.

One hand flies to Albert's mouth to keep himself from moaning and giving them away and the other balls in Jet's hair, not really directing the other boy anywhere just holding fast lest he collapse into a puddle or whatever it is his body is attempting to do with the sudden quake that rolls through him.

It's hot and wet and slick and everything that his feeble attempts at self-pleasure have not been in the slightest. His imagination runs wild with picturing himself inside Jet's mouth, that tongue caressing every centimeter of flesh and possibly even bumping the back of Jet's throat. He quivers, that thought in and of itself being too much, and he manages a small, squeaky groan as his fingers tighten in Jet's hair. It's the only warning he can manage that he can't hold out at all at this pace.

Albert's pretty fun to try new things on and the fact he has to restrain himself or they'll be heard is even more fun.

Unfortunately for the German teen, Jet didn't really have anything more strenuous than this in mind. Maybe before his father had shown up at the door, but right now he more looked forward to simply laying with his friend than anything else.

No that this wasn't fun, he was enjoying himself very much and clearly so was Albert.

He continued sucking and licking and took the length all the way into his mouth so he could lightly press his teeth against the sensitive skin as he slowly moved back up to the tip.

It's the teeth that did it, that soft scrape along his length as Jet's tongue still swirls behind them and the entirety of Albert's vision goes white behind his eyelids. He may have tugged Jet's hair too, he's not sure. All he knows is that he couldn't hold on and let go far sooner than he intended, and when he came to his senses again he could taste blood on one finger from biting down to muffle any noise.

He's left panting and dizzy even as he opens his eyes, vision barely focused until he homes in on Jet's face, still so close between his thighs to make him blush hard and pant just a bit harder.

"I-I'm sorry, I couldn't...- It was too much, so I..." He mumbles in his embarrassment, scarlet to the ears.

Albert letting go wasn't much of a surprise, although the sensation on his end was a new one. It tasted kind've funny, but not necessarily bad and for a moment he wasn't entirely sure what he should do; was he supposed to swallow it? Spit it out? There wasn't exactly a rule book about this. The older guys had always flaunted about how the dames they'd been with had swallowed and it seemed to make them happy they had, so Jet went with that. After all, making Albert happy was one of his main priorities in life.

He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and lightly smiled up at his friend. "It's okay, that's what I was hoping would happen. It means you liked it, right?" His face tinges red and he sits up a bit more as he moved so he could see Albert's face better. "You did like it...?"

Oh Gott, he swallowed it! Albert has to cover his face for how red it turns him, but somehow it makes him happy too and he has no idea where that feeling comes from. It can't taste nice, can it? Sort of sticky and salty, but Jet had swallowed it anyway and--wait, wait, he's being asked a question.

The German peeks through his abused fingers, the one he'd bitten still red and raw though the bleeding's stopped, to find Jet's face only inches from his own looking maybe a little nervous. "W-what?"

Had he liked it? What sort of a question is that?!

"Y-yes! Of course I did, I- I mean, it's you, isn't it?" He turns an even brighter red, bordering on cooked lobster, and hides behind his hands again.

Half a second later he can hear footsteps in the hall and Albert dives for his pants in a panicked flurry. If his life were a cartoon, steam would be pouring from his ears.

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