makinglies | Til the siren come calling

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Til the siren come calling

"We appreciate your hard work. We have one last mission for you."

The words rang through his mind and made him burn with anger and betrayal. He tried to make his body move, to force it to get up and fight back, to stop the Lazarus from doing whatever it was about to do as it approached, but he couldn't move except to squirm and flinch.

The zombie cyborg knelt down beside him and put a hand on his head, tilting it back to expose his neck as something bit into the human skin there. He watched as Void left the room, unconcerned with what was going on behind him and Jet's thoughts slowly slipped away. Then there was something else in his head. A voice was whispering to him, a familiar voice..someone he could trust; there was nothing but that voice and it's reminder how there was someone who betrayed him...no, multiple someones, people he'd trusted and thought wanted him around but were just using him, he needed to get back at them.

Istanbul. That was where they were.

'Go! Go! Traitors don't deserve to live anyway.' It whispered and he listened. His jets burned hot as they propelled him into the sky, indiscriminate of the building around him, it didn't matter, there was no time to waste.

He flew as fast as he could for the Gilmore Foundation.

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The world had changed.

It wasn't just Francoise's sudden and understandable though still no less strange turn to religion. It wasn't his government commending him for a job well done in thwarting the 'American threat to the globe.' It wasn't even the new ability to walk on water, wherever that came from.

It was the empty silences and the sting of loss. It was the finality of it, knowing there was no longer any hope of the future he'd still entertained they could still someday manage to build even with 27 years of Jet not speaking to him. The future he'd wished for in a fit of desperation watching the stars fall.

It's impossible now.

He loses track of the days since it happened, taking a leave of absence to help Geronimo with reconstructing what of the Foundation had been damaged, to go with Gilmore to give personal apologies and condolences to the families of those injured or killed when the main building had been attacked. They were kind and held no grudges, every one of them, but Albert felt the need to explain that it hadn't been Jet's fault regardless.

He works with Ivan to make sure Samuel Klein sees justice as a criminal in the eyes of the United Nations, not just the United States. They leak a document here, a recorded conversation there, working from data Francoise had scanned when Jet had finally come home.

He stays late, long after Ivan is asleep, picking through the recordings and scans and readouts, picking through all that remains of that stupid wish of his that won't come true. Can't come true.

And then, one day, he gets a call, and life becomes a series of moments instead of a continual flow.

Here he is running across canals.

Here, passing Gilmore and the rest as if he doesn't see them. He does, but that's hardly what his attention is on at the moment. They don't try to stop him.

And here, ignoring Pyunma and GB, ignoring everything but the shock of blond hair, the crystal blue eyes, and his heart in his throat as he throws his arms around Jet, stumbling to his knees in front of the chair and holding on tightly to his future. To his wish.

The thought that this was actually real and for whatever reason, he and his family members weren't dead, had barely solidified in his head when he noticed the dark streak of a man running towards him. Silver hair and eyes, and an angular face he recognized sent his heart into his throat and he sat up a little more, intending to stand to meet either the hug or the fist that figured was headed his way. He never got the chance to really move and it was probably for the best or they might have gone tumbling if Jet had lost his footing.

A solid form pressed tightly against him as strong and familiar arms encircled him and suddenly everything else fell away. Right this second, it was just them and his heart choking him, making his eyes sting and words impossible. He broght his own arms up to wrap tightly around the German, his hands clenching the fabric of Albert's shirt as though he might just vanish if even a single aspect if Het's hold doesn't indicate that he wants the other man exactly where he is. And he does, he needs Albert against him, holding him, because that was what cemented if for him, that was what told Jet he truly was alive and well and had am honest second chance to make things right.

His hold never loosening, he shifts and slides out of the chair so he's sitting on his knees and can make them be that much closer. Jet buries his face in the junction of Albert's neck and shoulder, willing his eyes to stay dry despite the stinging and fighting back the lump that prevented him from speaking. Finally he won enough to get a rough whisper out.

"I'm sorry. For everything, for all of it. I want to try again, I want to fix it. Albert, I'm so sorry." I love you.

Edited 2013-12-17 22:19 (UTC)

"Shut up," I know.

His voice is strained Albert struggling and failing miserably to keep his own emotions under control. He swallows around his throat not wanting to cooperate, though he successfully bites back a sob even as he tastes salt from the corners of his mouth.

I thought I'd never see you again.

For once, he does as he's told and doesn't let any of the hundreds of words spinning in his head, similarly pointless, come spilling out. Instead, he squeezes tighter before pulling away only enough to move his hands to the sides of Albert's face.

The sight of those tears breaks the dam on some of his own, but he doesn't notice, he was too focused on Albert's face, his eyes, his lips, lips he pressed his own against in an effort to convey the stuff that mattered.

Let me fix this.

I'm here to stay for as long as you'll have me.

Nothing's more important than you.

He kisses everywhere he can reach on Jet's face after that first kiss, his own hands mirroring Jet's and tears falling freely and unheeded but joy and relief apparent in every movement. He pulls him close, not caring that the surface of the water is getting their knees wet and apparently not even cognizant that Gilmore and the others have approached.

A quiet cough and a polite chuckle finally break the moment, Albert taking a moment to rub his eyes on his sleeve with a quiet and soggy laugh, looking to Jet warmly before shakily getting them both back to their feet.

Albert's lips, his hands, his face, nothing else exists for a long moment, not even the feeling of the water beneath them, but then there's another sound and that feeling that reminds the blond they're far from alone here and it sends bright color to his face, though he doesn't bother covering for it either. Right this second, he just didn't care.

He stood when Albert did and finally finally parted with the other man enough to greet the rest of his family.

It was odd how much easier it was to step back into the fold this time around, like his hope to redeem himself had actually panned out for him, something he hadn't really even though of since he'd thought he was going to die.

It was comforting to be able to find the hole he'd left and fit back into place and have everything that he'd ripped away from himself sew itself back together around him; there was an underlying current that was the only indication that there was anything wrong at all and even he knew a little bit of time and that would dry up too.

It was a hundred times more than what he expected and a lot more than what he thought he deserved, all things considered, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, either. For having died earlier, it was one of the best days he'd had in a really long time. Especially since he went out of his way to hold Albert's hand whenever he was allowed, still riding that high of just not even caring who saw.

Even once Gilmore and the others left the two older cyborgs for the night, Jet still had a smile on his face like nothing in the world could take it back off; there was still some stuff to deal with but, for today, it didn't exist.

"Guess it's just us...now what?"

With even holding hands being such a thrill, Albert feels like a schoolboy. Once again he slips his larger palm around Jet's narrow fingers and plants a gentle kiss on the taller man's jaw.

It's not as simple as all that. There are still things to work out between them... but what if it could be that simple? Can they both just let go of everything, all of the built up anger and doubt, and just live? It sounds like a perfect solution, just forget those years of separation and keep going as if they never happened.

He wants that, he does, but there's the little treacherous voice in the back of Albert's skull that has to be rational and ask the questions he should be asking. Will Jet just leave again at the first sign of trouble? What if he really has changed - they both have changed - in all that time?

He keeps his grip on Jet's hand but his voice is soft and low. "We should talk."

He honestly wasn't surprised, it probably would have surprised him more if Albert hadn't said anything about the fact there were still some loose ends to tie.

He nodded and moved his hand to intertwine their fingers, a show that he was willing to do just that, he wasn't going to run away from things anymore, even if they were likely to sting. "Yeah, ok. Whatever you want to talk about. I know I've still got some things to answer for."

Edited 2014-01-06 20:54 (UTC)

A nod, a squeeze of that precious hand, and Albert moves to sit at the breakfast table with all the gravity of someone conducting an interview. It's all so surreal, sitting here, looking into Jet's face when the last time he'd seen him he'd been about to go die. And he'd said...

The tips of Albert's ears grow a bit pink but he tries valiantly not to acknowledge it. "When I-"

No. He looks down at the surface of the table for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. What does he really want to know? Want Jet to know? They'd been over the major points, how Jet could stay with the US government after they proved to be working nefariously, how he didn't come home for years. Albert can understand all that and he can forgive. What they'd left out of that was the personal.

So this is where they get personal, then.

Alright. Start again.

"You left me." It's a simple statement of fact but it carries enormous weight in the way Albert says it. He doesn't meet the taller man's eyes, instead his gaze unfocused on the collar of the other man's shirt or his shoulder or the wall past his left ear. Anywhere but his eyes as he forces his voice to stay steady, to not crack. It probably wouldn't have anyway but there's a strain in it from the effort regardless, a strain mirrored in the tightness of his jaw as he waits for a response.

His insides squirmed at the painfully true statement and he took a moment to think over his words as he sat across from Albert. He'd said they'd talk and they would, he just hoped he didn't end up eating his foot in the process.

"Yeah, I did. I'm sorry. I wish I hadn't, it was done in anger when I thought you didn't have any faith in me and thought you didn't want me around. It was a stupid mistake." One that had cost them nearly three decades of hurt feelings. Jet had honestly believed all of that when he'd flown off and hurt Albert and by the time it occurred to him he might be wrong, he'd already been gone months and didn't know how to apologize. The answer was to just call but he'd never been able to and had switched from feeling angry to feeling like maybe Albert should find someone who wasn't just a young punk, all with an undercurrent of guilt that had kept him from actually pressing the call button.

"I thought I'd proved to you by then that wasn't the case." Of course he's not blameless. He'd agreed that Jet wasn't suited to lead, having a rational conversation with his team when he should have been diffusing an argument among family. He doesn't know what it was about that day that had made him too tired to do the same dance he and Jet had done for so long, that had made him act in the same stubborn fashion he always protested.

Fingers drum on the table in a metallic rhythm for a moment, the older man looking out of the window quietly. "If we go into this again... how many other 'stupid mistakes' will there be? I want to be a equals in this, not your wrangler. And I don't take loss well."

That's the closest he'll say of how deeply Jet hurt him, of how he'd nearly tumbled into a bottle for some time after the anger had faded and he was just left with loss and loneliness and a damned American shaped hole in his life. Of how when they'd finally convinced him to be upgraded he'd wanted nothing more than Jet sitting by before they wheeled him in, going on about sports or New York or pizza or anything mundane enough to drown out and just focus on the voice of someone who's goal in speaking is to keep him afloat. Of how he hated the empty silences even now.

"I don't want to do this if you're just going to vanish like a petulant, thankless child."

Edited 2014-01-08 18:01 (UTC)

Jet knew what a smack in the face felt like, he knew what it was like to get punched in the gut and Albert's words weren't either of those things. They were a hundred times worse and maybe it was only magnified because Jet couldn't argue that that hadn't been what he'd acted like because it had.

How could he say he'd changed when words only did and meant so much. He'd have to show, but that didn't mean Albert was willing to wait and see.

"I don't know. You don't need to be my wrangler, I don't need one and that's not what I want you to be. But I can't name you a number, I can't promise I won't make mistakes. I can promise I won't run off again but...if that's not enough to buy me time to show you the rest...I don't know what I can do."

It hurt to say it, to hold the door open on this whole thing so Albert could walk out now if he wanted, but it was better than making empty promises. Jet was overly familiar with those too.

"I'm not asking you to be perfect. I don't think I'm asking the impossible either, and I'm not trying to hurt you with this. I want to make it work." He leans back in his chair, folding arms over his stomach loosely and meeting Jet's eyes again. "I just need some stability. I need to know that you'll be here and that you'll communicate with me."

He lets the words hang for a moment, watching Jet. It's obvious the conversation is just as uncomfortable for him as it is for Albert, but the added dimension of looking like a kicked puppy, of endless remorse and hurt, makes Albert want to forget talking and just gather the younger man up. Instead he just leans forward to take Jet's hands in his own. "I'm not saying this to be cruel. I want this to work. I-..."

Funny. He'd said it before, but now those three simple words get stuck in his throat. He squeezes Jet's hands. "I need you."

Those words and the way Albert faultered at first reminded Jet of the dream he'd had before waking up hours ago. But what if it wasn't a dream? People didn't really dream when they died, what if he 'd actually heard Albert say those words and they hadn't just been a spurt of the moment deceleration? Maybe, but now wasn't the time to ask, not when it wouldn't really matter if they couldn't work through this.

"I already said I'm not going to leave, that applies to you as much as everyone else. More than, if you want me around like I'd like to be." Communication...it had never been his sting suit, not in words and while his words had gotten better, he'd talked less and less with no one around that he actually wanted to talk to. But that didn't mean he was incapable.
"But, yes, I can promise to try. I want to put everything into making it work again. I know you don't deserve anything less."

He squeezed Albert's hands in his, hoping the pressure or at least the movement wouldn't go unnoticed since he doubted the other man could actually feel it. He just needed to try and get his point across in case his words didn't make it... But he had to try and say it as part of that very thing he said he'd try to do better at. "I need you too. More than I've ever wanted or needed anyone.that's why...I want a second chance, so I can show that to you better."

"Then you have it." He wants this more than anything but he's frightened, he's so terribly frightened that something else will happen to rip them apart, something that will call for a sacrifice again and Jet's been saved twice now. The first time was luck. The second was a miracle. There likely wouldn't be a third. And that's not something he can prepare for by keeping Jet at arm's length.

There's also not knowing if the younger man can keep his temper or if he'll run out on Albert again. He'd promised, yes, but in the heat of an argument it would hardly be the first thing on his mind. They used to simply function that way, arguing until Jet left to cool his head and then returning to be more civil, Albert secure in the knowledge that Jet would be back because he always comes back and a bit of that distance is healthier. And then he hadn't come back. And now Albert can't be certain that if Jet flew off the handle as he used to, he would make his way home again.

He'll have his second chance, the German means that with all his heart, but there will be conditions.

"Gilmore has some safe houses dotted around the world, several right here in Venice close by, or near the Foundation HQ in Istanbul. I'm certain he'd give you the keys to one if you ask." Or if he hadn't already while they were all catching up and Albert hadn't heard. "I'd... prefer if you were close by, though."

It was a roller coaster of emotions in the span of a few seconds, going from hopeful to gutted and back to hopeful. He'd gotten his second chance but for just a moment he thought Albert would rather Jet be countries away instead of in the same area until the older cyborg had continued.

He'd forgotten how easy it was for Albert to control Jet's emotional state, even while Jet was fairly certain he had no idea he was doing it.

After years alone, it was a little frightening how easy it still was for Albert to do that. He hadn't realized how much he still loved Albert until they'd been within arm's reach again.

It occurred to him exactly the kind of position he was putting himself in: if he used his time to show Albert what sort of man he was now and the German decided he was too different or just not what he wanted anymore, then Jet would find that door closed to him for good. He'd speant several years thinking Albert hadn't wanted him, so he had an idea of how much that would hurt but, this time, it would be worse because it wouldn't be percieved, it's be real and ir wouldn't be because of what Jet lacked but what he'd gained and could no longer change.

It would be safer to say all that now, to explain why this might be a bad idea and that maybe they should just go back to what they'd been before Jet had mentioned anything way back when.

But that would also be the cowardly way and that wasn't the sort of person he was. Besides, he could also remember just how happy he'd been when things had been good...just the possibility of that was worth the risk, even if the fear of potentially losing the one thing most important to him caused ice to form in his stomach.

Finally, he came back to himself and nodded, hesitated,then slowly pulled his hands away again. He didn't really know what he was or wasn't allowed to do, could he hold Albert's hand? Kiss him? Or was he supposed to pretend they were just starting out again? He'd enver even done a real relationship before Albert, much less any scenario in which he had to fix one. Another potential way to screw it up.

"I'll ask Gilmore for one around here tomorrow, then. For now, I'll just crash at Pyunma's or something." He was aware how painfully awkward he must be holding himself with how at a loss he was with what he was supposed to do with himself, but he tried to cover as best he could. He took a step back away from the table, glancing to the door before looking at Albert again. "Good night, Al."

"Good night, Jet."

He knows what he said, he knows he should stick to his guns and work through this slowly, something like an average couple learning to trust again. He should let there be some distance because wounds don't heal if they're constantly poked at.

But the sight of Jet starting for the door hurts more than the thought of him staying and though he still maintains he should stay with the plan he finds himself speaking up instead as he gets to his feet.

"Wait."

A pause. He can't meet Jet's eyes, can't let him see the indecision there.

"It's... it's late. One night here won't hurt anything."

He hopes.

Jet hesitated and felt an invisible hand squeeze tight in his chest; Jet didn't need to see it to know Albert was being indecisive. He doubted Albert mean to--he just wasn't that kind of man--but he felt toyed with and it was making all of this a lot harder than it was already.

Why was he being like this? Usually once Albert made a call that serious he stuck to it for more than five seconds, so what was it? He thought past his own fears and worries and uncertainties and tried to look from Albert's perspective and what must be going through his head based on what he'd already revealed. And then it just sort of clicked into place.

He gave a small sigh and turned back towards the other man. When he spoke, his voice was even but there was pain, pain he knew he wasn't the only one feeling. "Al...you're kinda yanking me around here. I get it or at least I think I do so correct me if I'm wrong but, you want this a whole hell of a lot, a lot more than we've really said and you kinda just want to skip all of this messy business because it would be easier and we've already done the separation thing for a while now, but...you're scared.

You're scared something won't work out and I'll leave again, you've made it obvious you think I'm still likely to do that. You think maybe something'll happen and I'll go off and die again, I get that, my track record isn't exactly clean. You're afraid this won't work somehow and then you'll just end up with a broken heart all over again."

He paused, letting that sink in as he crossed his arms over his chest, a subconscious gesture considering he was about to do what he'd just done to Albert only to himself. It was different talking about other people's fears than it was talking about your own. Maybe because he could be wrong about Albert's, but he wasn't wrong about his own.

"Thing is...I'm scared too. I'm terrified. I want this a whole hell of a lot too, more than I know I can say and I certainly don't want this messy stuff when things have been messy for years now, my own fault I know, but that's part of it too. I just want something to hold on to, something solid that I know won't slip through my fingers because the dust hasn't settled yet, I don't know where I stand now that I've miraculously made my way back.

I know I'm not going to leave. Being here with you, with the others, that's all I've wanted for the last few decades, I just never knew I could come back and get it if I wanted. But what I don't know is if I'm going to try my damnedest with this only to loose it again anyway.

I've changed, I'm not perfect, but I've done some growing up and not everything's the way you remember. But...there's no guarantee you're gonna like what you find, I don't mean you'll hate it, but maybe it--I'm not what you'll want anymore."

He hesitated again, arms closing tighter around his middle, but he forced his eyes up in an attempt to catch those silver ones he was looking for. "That terrifies me more than dying ever could. I...care about you more than anyone I've ever known and whatever it was that made you go with me before, I hope to hell and back I've still got cause I don't really want to go now that I'm here. But if leaving is what you want--what you decide you want, then that's what I'll do. The only way I'm leaving is if you tell me to."

He was rambling, he could hear it, he could hear how what he was trying to say was laced in all off the words he'd used, words he so rarely had before and only seemed to be able to muster when he forced them now, but he could muster them. But now that well had dried up and he was left standing, waiting, for the final call before he moved an inch back towards the door or more into the house.

It takes Albert far too long to respond after Jet finishes. He feels raw and exposed, Jet able to see right into him as if he's made of glass, all the working parts on display so neatly. He feels just that fragile too, standing there staring at the floor as if it will rise up and offer some solution.

"I thought you didn't want me." Even his voice is fragile, a fact he despises and he folds his arms across his chest as if they could act as a shield. "I thought, we all thought, that you'd finished with us entirely. For nearly thirty years, Jet. For thirty years I thought you'd found some other life you liked better that I wasn't a part of. Of course I'm hesitating, and of course you've changed, so have I in being apart for that long.

"I don't have any answers either. I don't know how this will work or what we even are to each other now, but I know..." His voice softens, even more vulnerable. "I know what it feels like to lose someone you love. I know that more than most, though God knows I wish I didn't. But it felt the same as before. I don't think that has changed."

That heart-wrenching reeling feeling of being broken yourself because your other half is gone. He hadn't spoken of it to anyone save Francoise in the time between Jet and Joe's mission and their return today, and even then he hadn't said much, more listened. He'd thought she'd cracked a little, saying how He would make it right. How He wouldn't give them challenges they couldn't overcome. So he'd thought she'd cracked or was at least grasping at straws to keep them both afloat.

But she'd turned out to be right, whether she'd known all along or it came as as much of a surprise to her as the rest of them.

"Do you... do you believe in fate?" he hesitated to ask, his voice a low rumble with his eyes still on the floor. It's a ridiculous question and Albert generally isn't much for mysticism but there are more things in the world than the human consciousness can comprehend, and perhaps there is something, God or otherwise, making sure that these second chances, these miracles, happen.

Slowly he lifts his face, meeting Jet's eyes for the first time in the last few minutes. His own expression is still careworn and drawn but there's a light in his eyes that wasn't there before, something pushing through the doubt. "Stay here tonight. I can't promise it will be like nothing happened, but I want to try."

For Jet, he'll try anything.

He didn't believe in fate, too much had gone wrong for him to be okay with believing it had been decided for him, he'd rather think that, despite all the bad, all the good had been because he'd worked for it and not because it was in some script somewhere. But he wasn't going to mention any of that, the question seemed fairly rhetorical anyway.

What he did believe in was the fact Albert had referred to him as someone he loved and it reminded him again of hearing those words, words he was thinking more and more weren't just something he'd made up but might have actually been said to him.

Jet knew he felt that way, it had taken time but he'd reconciled the word he knew with the feeling he didn't, but knowing Albert felt the same, even after everything the blond had done,that it was something he was feeling now, that gave him more hope than anything else. It was the cement they needed to try and make it work again, once they found the building blocks they needed.

He nodded, words still failing him for the moment. He took a step, hesitated, then closed the distance between them and pulled the older cyborg into a tight but encompassing embrace. Simple in what it was, but not so simple in the feelings behind it or the way Jet tried his hardest to wrap himself around Albert entirely. It held everything he'd been trying to say in it.

Albert lets the breath he hadn't even been aware he was holding out all at once as Jet pulls him close. There's barely a moment of hesitation as the older cyborg brings his up too, crossing under Jet's arms to rest his fingers just at the taller man's shoulders and keeping him as close as possible and burying his face in Jet's neck.

All the years apart and he still fits perfectly right here.

He stays like that for a long time, close as he can get and pressed into Jet as if he can't quite believe he's really there and as long as he keeps his arms around him he won't vanish. There are so many things Albert wants to say, wants to share, moments that happened apart that he wishes Jet had been there for, all the things that happened to Jet for which he was absent. It hurts to think how much they've missed, but there's an element of joy there too, of having the chance to share it now even if he doesn't have the words quite yet.

Those will come later. For now he'd prefer a small measure of action and slowly, deliberately, Albert lifts himself on his toes to press a timid and chaste but still altogether overwhelmingly loving kiss to Jet's lips.

This was different than the kiss Albert had risked in the hopes it would break Jet free of His Voice, this had caution but it was stronger, like it belonged there.

Albert's lips on his had always felt like that. Not an electric spark, but something constant and comforting and right.

His hands shifted only enough to support the German against the blond's body, holding him there so Jet could carefully return the kiss. He didn't deepen it much, still following Albert's lead, but he poured his emotions and wants and needs into it, every scrap of love he felt for the other man.

He would break away when Albert wanted, but he kept the shorter man fitted to him, not willing to lose that contact just yet.

It feels silly to have that pressure on his chest again, the weight of emotion that he'd managed to keep under wraps for so long but now keeps pricking his eyes in the form of tears. He'd been a crier as a child and worked hard to shove it down and away because showing that sort of weakness was unbecoming of a man. He still feels it is, for him. Not for things like loss and death, but from this? That's more feminine than he considers himself.

And yet one single tear rolls down his cheek as he kisses Jet and holds him desperately. There's nothing intense enough about the kiss itself to bring it on. No Hollywood passion, no teeth or tongue, just the gentle softness of Jet's lips against his own, slightly chapped and altogether ordinary. But it's enough that it makes Albert's mind go white and placid and he finally recognizes the lump in his throat and the weight on his chest for what it is.

He's happy. For the first time in such an unbearably long time, Albert is happy.

Albert wasn't moving, wasn't shying away, wasn't changing his mind and that gave Jet more hope than he already had. It made him a little bolder too.

With Albet pressed to him like he was, it was just serving to remind him that the only person he wanted to be with in every sense was in his arms for the first time in a long time. Honestly, he wanted him. Badly. But it wasn't just the physical, he wanted the emotional connection that always came with it.

His lips traveled lightly from the other man's to his chin, his hand darting up to swipe away that tear before resting on Albert's cheek. Lips moved from chin to jaw to cheek to the soft patch of skin just below Albert's neck.

"Albert...I want you. Let me take care of you tonight. Please."

It's the opposite of what he knows he should do. He shouldn't even be letting Jet stay the night, let alone share his bed. He should be cautious and careful and put his foot down, close the distance slowly an work things out thoroughly before wading in again. Logical and plain.

Instead his heart flutters at Jet stating so plainly that he's wanted and tosses all his thoughts and caution to the wind. He plants a kiss to Jet's hand and clasps it tightly in his, stepping softly to lead him towards the wrought iron stairs up to the loft.

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