makinglies | 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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Albert losing himself in Jet sends shivers down the younger cyborg's spine and he finally loosens up under the calm, comfortable, joy that overtakes him. His feet find the mattress, his knees still pressed in -a gentle encouragement that Albert stay where he is a little longer- and his hands release the captive silver strands and dark fabric they'd been holding so tightly. His arm pressed in on Albert's back, holding him to the slimmer man's chest while the hand still on the back of Alvert's head gently stroked his hair.

He's largely silent now, basking in the emotions his partner has given him and in the feeling of his weight on Jet, every point of contact precious and impossible to break. While still cheek to cheek with him, Jet allowed himself a moment of complete vulnerability-a feeling that had been lacing it's way through the evening-and leaned into the contact in what could probably be called a nuzzle. "...thank you..."

It was breathy, practically whispered and he knew Albert wouldn't fully know why Jet was thanking him, but that was alright. There were no more mixed feelings stirring at the bottom if his stomach, no more vague doubt that maybe he couldn't do this or that he'd mess it up because his only point if tefernce was violent and full of lust and not love.

There was no longer a voice in the back if his mind that said somehow, despite there not being any signs, despite it having been years ago and Jet having learned to deal, what had happened would make him undesirable. It had been crushed under the palpable waves of desire and care Albert had shown him.

Thank you warrants a response but Albert, spent and in a warm daze from so much emotion, can't think of what he's supposed to say. 'You're welcome' is traditional but it seems wrong here, stretched out in each other's arms, trying to relearn how to breathe. Jet's fingers in his hair draw out a smile and Albert decides not to say anything, instead to turn his head and give a gentle, loving kiss to his partner's cheek.

There's a glow between them and the soft sounds of Jet's heart and the motor that stands for Albert's mingle in a soothing rhythm as they both calm in the aftermath. Every doubt that Albert had, every little worry that he'd used as an excuse to keep them apart are all now simply melted away. There's no doubt in his mind that this was the right choice and he's eternally grateful that Jet gave him that second chance.

Metal hands trace gentle meaningless patterns on Jet's arms, Albert more comfortable than he's been in years. "Good?"

There's a small laugh in response and he's back to sounding 'normal,' that vulnerability sweapt away again, though he wasn't any less at ease. "Definitely." He'd probably be a bit sore in the morning, but it would be the good kind of sore and he wouldn't regret it in the slightest.

He kissed Albert's cheek in return and let his hand rest on the back of the older cyborg's neck, perfectly content to just hold him. "What about you?"

"Perfect." He hasn't been held in so long. Even with Hilda it was rare, he was always taking the lead and she was smaller, but cuddled up to Jet like this he could easily get used to it.

"We should wash up." That would be the tidy thing to do, but he would so much rather stay like this for the foreseeable future.

Jet's arm tightened around Albert for just a moment as though he anticipated the German attempting to rise at any moment. "In a sec. I don't wanna lose this just yet."

This peace, this feeling of perfection and closeness...he could still feel Albert buried inside him and it wasn't a feeling he wanted to lose, not yet. Not while his head was still swimming through and processing a thousand things at once.

Besides, Albert would likely want to shower alone, considering and while Jet understood and would respect that desire, it just made him even less eager to separate so soon.

Albert lifts one hand to brush through Jet's hair, looking at his face with a warmth that he wishes he could spread to his metal fingers. "Alright. I'm not going anywhere."

Not just right then, but at all. Ever. He tries to make that clear without saying so directly, that he won't make the same mistake again, that as he said, he's in it now completely.

Whether he understood completely or not, Jet got the gist: Albert wasn't just talking about right here right now, he was talking about something Jet prized higher than anything: loyalty. More than that, devotion, a promise not to leave which, considering his parents and his gang, the younger man hadn't had the best history with.

But when Albert said, the way he said it, made Jet believe him. He wanted to, sure, but Albert was also a pretty honest guy and a romantic sap on top of that; if he was saying something like that, he meant it.

Jet leaned into the touch and closed his eyes for a brief moment. "...'preciate that a lot-" He shrugged. "-....just so you know."

"Mmm," He'd meant that to be an actual response but it's warm and comfortable like this and his mind seems to have wandered off to attend to other things. "'S good."

A moment later he's snoring softly, Jet's hair still caught lightly between his fingers.

The soft, even breath against his skin makes him smile and give a light scoff as his hand ran through Albert's hair. So much for getting up and getting cleaned. Oh well, later worked too.

Jet did his best to gather in the blanket beneath them to cover them without disturbing his partner, then pressed a gentle kiss on him before settling in himself. Sleep sounded pretty good right now, not only because of the long day and the amazing sex they'd just had but because the solid weight over his body acted as better comfort and security than any blanket he owned. Although, to be fair, one of those blankets would likely be warmer, but he wasn't willing to trade.

New York State of Mind

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