makinglies | New York State of Mind

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New York State of Mind

It's been nearly a month and only now does Albert have his head on straight again. It took a near-death experience to do it, but in those moments he'd thought were his last when all the things he regrets went running the 'this is your life' marathon through his head one stuck out in particular. And that one is in a seventh story apartment that looms large and foreboding in the mid-autumn drizzle.

He pockets the scrap of paper he'd been clutching, address on it long since memorized. He should just go up there and say his piece. Most likely Jet will kick him right back to the street again. As well he should. Albert hadn't exactly been the model partner in the time they'd spent together. His heart had been in it, but the rest of him still quailed, afraid to get too invested, afraid that he would screw it all up regardless. At least if he didn't try then he could blame the failure on that. But that's not fair to Jet, and if he were honest not fair to himself either. He knows that now, that in his heart of hearts he's already invested. The things he's frightened of doing are the very things he wants more than anything. Jet, more than anyone else, makes him feel human.

Screwing up his courage, Albert walks right up to the door of the apartment building, then turns away and strides to the corner of the block instead, shoulders hunched against the freezing mist. He needs something first. He's not stalling. Really.

It's relatively slim pickings in the little bodega on the corner but Albert manages to pull several small bouquets into one large one. Roses and baby's breath might be a little cliche, but it's what they have and it's hopefully a gesture Jet will appreciate, especially since it cost Albert an entire day's worth of spending money. Not that it matters. If it softens Jet for even a moment, it'll be worth it.

If.

He stops on his trek back up the block, staring at the flowers as if they'd suddenly start speaking to him. It's too much, isn't it? Roses? That's what he would always do for Hilda when she was cross with him, buy her flowers or jewelry, but Jet isn't Hilda. He'd never thought of Jet as Hilda, of course, but flowers seem such a feminine gift...

No, it's fine. It'll be fine. Who doesn't like flowers?

Halfway up the stairs he wonders if maybe Jet doesn't like flowers, or he'll throw them back in Albert's face for trying to treat him like 'some broad'.

Two thirds of the way back down he kicks himself mentally to just do it, damnit! Stop being such a coward! He'll either like them or not but the flowers aren't the point. The point is he's here, he'll apologize from the bottom of his heart, and Jet will take him back.

Well, ideally Jet will take him back.

He's already in front of the apartment door when that nagging voice in the back of his head tauntingly asks how often things are ever ideal. He paces once, twice in front of the door, mouth a thin and troubled line cutting across his face as he hems and haws, trying to reconcile what he hopes will happen with what's more likely.

Just do it!!

He knocks, heart in his throat.

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When Jet had first returned to his apartment, it had been with tattered pride in hand and nursing his hurt feelings. His mood had been bad enough that even Cathy and Jimmy had noticed it, despite Jet's efforts. Between them and time, he'd been able to get going again, but those hurt feelings had remained.

He knew why Albert was hesitating, it wasn't that hard to figure out even with everything he wasn't being told; the older cyborg figured that as long as they weren't actually sleeping together, what they had could still be something 'light' no big deal, really. That way neither of them would get hurt if something happened and, considering their line of work, something happening was pretty likely.

But the thing Albert didn't seem to understand and Jet being Jet couldn't quite say correctly, was that it was a little too late for that. No matter what it was Albert felt for him, Jet was already too far gone, he'd die for the idiot whether they were banging or not. He figured they might as well be, if that was the case. But Albert was the cautious one and Jet knew he was holding back a lot because of it.

So now he didn't know where that left them, other than separated. He knew that, should Gilmore call, he'd be there in a heartbeat and they'd have each other's backs as always, but would they talk after that or would Jet just find himself meeting more hemming and hawing that would end in two separate flights in opposite directions?
After a lengthy and begrudging discussion with Cathy (once she'd cornered him) it really came down to the fact that, no matter how much he cared for Albert, Jet's own perceived self-worth wasn't so low as to have him clinging to half a boyfriend...or whatever they were. Even if he really wanted to, Jet wasn't going to be the one to cave and give in to his partner's fears.

It hurt, but it gave him some peace of mind and let him relax and be distracted by other things, such as the baseball game he had on when the knock came. He got up and went to the door, fully expecting it to be the young blond from across the hall. What he was met with instead was a bouquet of various different flowers held by a seemingly flustered and obviously nervous German. It wasn't a sight he was expecting and it left him staring.

"Albert? What are you doing here? And with those?" Jet honestly didn't think he'd been given flowers since he was six and that had been a single daisy from Natalie, not...that.

"Well I was just-" passing by, four thousand miles away from home?

"I thought that maybe-" you'd take me back if I bribed you with slowly dying plants?

"It's just that-" I miss you and I'm sorry I'm an idiot and I'll do anything if you just forgive me?

He pulls his hat down over his eyes and holds the flowers out stiffly. "These are for you."

Nailed it.

Albert at a loss for words was rare and was a testament to just how nervous and flustered he was. It made Jet a bit flustered too and it was with warmed cheeks that he took the offered flowers and stepped back out of the doorway. "Well...don't just stand out there like you're lost or something, come in and close the door."

He turned away with the flowers towards the kitchen, leaving Albert to make up his own mind on whether he was coming in or not. Jet was aware the plants were a tactic to butter him up and--as much as he didn't want to admit it--it was working. Certainly enough to get Albert in the door, more than likely not something he would have achieved so quickly without them.

It occurred to him he didn't really own anything like a vase since he didn't have a need for one before, but he found suitable substitute in amongst the mash up of different glassware. Once the flowers were in water, the teen turned, arms loosely crossed, to eye the older man. "Germany's not exactly next door or anything...why're you here?"

He watches Jet get pink, then haughtily turn and make his way back into the apartment, leaving Albert to stare after him for a moment. He has the distinct feeling of being watched, but he chalks that up to his utter self consciousness as he steps inside carefully and closes the door.

The apartment is just as he remembers, threadbare furniture and baseball blaring on the old dial-and-rabbit-ear television. Glassware clinks as Jet juggles the flowers and a scuffed pitcher, Albert nearly moving to help, but instead standing with his back to the closed door awkwardly, only succeeding in removing his hat and twisting it between gloved hands.

So he'd managed to gain entry. Good, that's a good step. Jet maybe didn't want him face down in a gutter at least, though even that would be more than he deserves. Albert had gone over it so many times in his head since they'd parted, how from Jet's point of view he must have lead him on then rabbited at the first sign of real commitment. He's ashamed of himself which is why it's taken him even this long to make it to America. The fight with his doppelganger had been at least two weeks ago and made him think long and hard - again - about what makes him feel human, what makes him a man. Of course, this entire thing is making him feel more like a mouse.

Jet's question startles Albert out of his reverie, making him jump and twist his cap all out of shape. He busies himself smoothing it as he answers, not making eye contact.

"I... I came to see you. I want to apologize. What I did wasn't fair and I know now it hurt you. That was never my intent." So formal! He looks at the hat, as if talking to it instead of Jet will make this any easier. "I understand if you don't want to do this anymore, but I just wondered... I mean, I hope..."

He swallows, looking up at Jet from under his bangs shyly, barely daring to hope. "...that you'll forgive me?"

That had been what Jet was hoping to hear and, admittedly, wasn't too surprising since the only two options for Albert showing up here was to put things back together or to end things for good and he figured the older cyborg wouldn't waste a whole plane trip for the latter.

Still, even having sort of been expecting it, it made Jet's heart flutter in a way that just reminded him of some love-struck chick and he was half tempted to just go over and kiss the idiot because of it. But he couldn't, not yet.

He leaned back against the kitchen's counter, arms crossed in a subconsciously protective way. "Yeah...yeah, I forgive you Al, I get where you were coming from...and I'd like to keep doing this. A lot more than you probably know." He faltered, trying to piece together how he was feeling into words and decided borrowing Cathy's would probably work best; she was better at this sort of thing.

"But not if it's only going to be a half-way thing. There's a difference between being patient and being strung along and I'm not the kind of guy to just stand around and let that happen." Even for the only person he'd ever felt like this for. It would be nice in a pathetic way, but he had more self-respect than that.

He sighed and finally looked up, choosing to look right at the older man whether his eyes were met or not. "So, what'll it be? Are you in or not?"

"I'm in," he meets Jet's eyes with an intensely relieved but still apologetic gaze. He knows that just because Jet's taking him back doesn't mean he doesn't have amends to make. But when he says he's in, he means it. No more hesitation, no more tangling himself up in his own worries or past or humanity. Jet's already professed not to care about any of that, to just want Albert as he is. Hell, in retrospect the American had been beyond patient with him, which is a feat in and of itself for Jet who is a very instant gratification sort of person.

"Just... hit me if I mess up again. Box my ears or something." He barks a soft, self deprecating laugh, perching the rudely abused cap back on his head. "Believe me when I say the last thing I want to do is ruin the only good thing to come my way in decades. I'm sorry I almost did."

Jet smiled a bit, hearing that, though he didn't move at all till Albert spoke again. "Yeah, sure thing." He wouldn't and the reason why was the very last bit Albert had said that Jet couldn't bring himself to mention, but he'd call the older cyborg out on it, no doubt. If Albert was making this promise to him, Jet was going to hold him to it. He didn't want to regret something so important to him.

The lanky teen pushed away from the counter and closed the distance between them so he could lean down and press a kiss to his partner's lips. One hand curled around the back of the German's neck as Jet deepened the kiss and poured into it everything he couldn't say and all of the desire he'd been holding back since Albert had first shown up on his doorstep--more than that, since they'd parted ways over a month ago.

That was the bothersome thing about feelings, even while they were being hurt, they made him only want to kiss the other man senseless. Now he could.

The kiss is unexpected but welcome and leaves Albert entirely breathless. It takes him only a moment to slide his gloved hands around Jet's narrow frame and lean in, breathing in the man that he's missed so desperately. His eyes fall closed and he finally relaxes, this action being the proof that everything was going to be alright, that everything is forgiven.

It was so simple he can't imagine why he was afraid at all.

When the finally part lips to breathe, Albert doesn't go far. He rests his forehead against Jet's, bringing one hand up to brush through the fiery red bangs at his temple. "I missed you."

Everything must be back to normal if Albert was saying things Jet couldn't respond to again. The teen's face did a good job impersonating his hair as he brought his hand up to find Albert's glove-covered metal one and thread their fingers together.

Brown eyes find white with how close they are now, the feeling of Albert's forehead against his comfortingly familiar. He'd missed the German too. "Well...we're here now. Let's do something about it."

"Hmm... yes, but I want to do this right," there's a mischievous current to his words as he pecks another kiss on Jet's cheek then pulls away to adjust his hat. "Get your coat, its chilly out."

For the next few hours, Albert intends to treat Jet like royalty. Unfortunately that's difficult when he has all of thirty dollars and a bus transfer in his pocket, but he makes do. Not everything has to cost money; in fact, it's often that the best things in life are free, isn't that what they say?

They hop the subway to Central Park, the weather not having changed much for the short while he'd spent in Jet's apartment, yet the world seems brighter for Albert, so much so that he risks curling his gloved fingers around Jet's hidden between them on the seat until they get to their stop. The air is still heavy with the misty threat of chill rain, but to Albert it seems sparkling and crystal.

He buys them a hot dog each from a cart on the sidewalk, along with a coffee for himself and a soda for Jet. They wind their way through the park, over paths and under bridges, eating and talking and generally enjoying each other's company. There's plenty to catch up on, their lives so different when they're apart, and it has the added effect of Albert mentally kicking himself for missing so much because of his fears. He was so afraid of losing what he had he nearly let it go in the first place. Idiotic.

They end up sitting on a bench by one of the may ponds dotting the park, luckily not yet frozen over, and Albert makes an offering of the last of his hot dog bun to the assembled mass of pigeons and ducks, sipping at his cooling coffee and taking a sidelong look at Jet, trying to gauge how much the other cyborg is enjoying himself. This is a bit quieter than Jet likes things generally, he knows, and Albert's suddenly hit with a pang of self-consciousness that he couldn't take him on a more exciting date. Indoor go-kart racing, paintball, something other than a walk in the park on a fall day. He feels old and boring in that moment and valiantly attempts to swallow his anxiety as he searches Jet's posture and expression for any impatience or unease.

Albert would find his companion not impatient or bored in the slightest. There was a peace about him that only showed up on occasion, mostly when Jet wasn't aware he was being watched and didn't realize his usual pomp and attitude wasn't up. There was even a small but content smile on his face as he looked out across the pond.

Honestly, he was the happiest he'd been in a long time, even before their argument. He'd always liked spending time with Albert, no matter what it was they were doing, but this had been just about perfect. Jet's only real experience with dates were the ones Albert had taken him on and this was one of his favorites so far.

He didn't need fancy entertainment or even anything really exciting, their lives were often pretty exciting already. Sure, he liked new things and having fun, but he had fun just by being with Albert and being themselves, almost as though they were normal human guys. Nothing was perfect, and this was no exception, they had disagreements, different tastes in...just about everything and neither of them were without issues, but with how comfortable Albert made him feel--more comfortable than anyone in the teens life had ever made him feel--how Jet could just be himself no matter what that meant and know he wasn't going to get judged for it one way or another...well, he figured this was about as close to perfect as he was going to get and it was already a lot more than he'd ever thought he'd find.

He glanced over and noticed Albert's gaze on him, making his cheeks color more than they already were in the cold and his smile widened as he moved a bit closer so he could lean a little against the shorter man.

"I'm glad you came here. Came to see me. I missed you too."

Jet's words flood Albert with relief and the German presses a brief, soft kiss into Jet's hair before leaning back in turn, watching the ducks be jealous that they could never be this happy.

He is that. Happy. It's no wonder that it's such a surprise to Albert to be happy considering his life. After Hilda's death and his remodeling, he'd sincerely believed that happiness would never again be within his reach, that the best he could achieve would be temporary relief until his permanent and terminal release, something he'd hoped for at the time with an embarrassing amount of conviction. He'd almost resented Jet then, the voice in the grate that wouldn't let him just sink and drown. Albert had tried to make him understand, explained that the sun had gone out and that there'd been no point in living if all they were to be was tools of destruction. Machines.

Jet didn't let him give up.

In retrospect, he'd fallen a little in love with him even then, but under caked layers of self loathing and grief there was no way Albert could have recognized it. It took their escape decades later and an obscene amount of careful mental sorting to realize, and still, still, he'd only just finally been able to surrender entirely now, years and years later.

But maybe it's true that slow and steady wins the race. In this moment, with Jet's head on his shoulder and his cheek against scarlet locks, peacefully watching the birds do battle over the last crumbs of a toasted hot dog bun, he certainly feels as if he's won something.

Public be damned; he shifts so he can plant a warm kiss on Jet's lips. It's light and tastes a little bit like coffee, but it hopefully communicates every iota of happiness and contentment that Albert feels in that moment. He doesn't pull far to speak. "Let's go back to your place."

Jet was right there with Albert on keeping their more intimate interactions behind closed doors, but that didn't stop him from kissing back as a little excited thrill that usually came with doing something he wasn't supposed to, made his heart beat a little faster. What Albert said only made it beat even faster.

He smiles and nods, pulling away--with no small amount of remorse that even had to--and pulled Albert up with him by interlaced hands. "This way, I know a short cut."

He led his partner through part of the park and to a different train that seemed like a longer ride but let them out closer to his apartment. That dumb little contented smile hadn't left his face since it had made it's home there and he found he couldn't help sitting a little closer than he maybe should whenever he could.

As he unlocked his door and let the older cyborg in, the weak warmth offered by his less than stellar central heating system a welcome change from the biting chill outside, it finally occurred to him that he'd have to talk to Cathy again before she found out there was another man in Jet's apartment lest she say anything to Albert Jet didn't want him finding out. He 'd likely get some sharp words from the woman about letting him in to begin with, but if he could just find the words to explain how happy Albert made him, how he felt like his heart had sprouted wings and flown off ever since the words 'I'm in' had reached his ears, maybe she'd lay off a bit.

The teen leg the blond across the hall slip from his mind as he stepped back to the shorter man and pressed his lips gently against his lips.

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