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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"He told you all that?" Albert crosses his arms, embarrassed at the picture Jet may have painted of him to his surrogate mother. But there's good in it too. Mostly Albert's just glad that Jet had someone to talk to, someone to help him put his thoughts in order and keep things together. Lord knows Albert hadn't done a good job of it.

Despite his embarrassment, Albert gives a genuine, if sheepish, smile. "I'm glad he has someone like you watching out for him."

She paused, not expecting that response,but her only real reaction to show it affected her was her tone softening again; it still had a sharp edge to it, but it wasn't as biting as it had once been.

"That better not've been an attempt to butter me up, because it won't work. But...someone has to. I expect you to do it when I can't, understand?"

She looked at him a moment, almost like she was sizing him up then shook her head and offered her hand. "Cathy. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Albert. I need to go to work now, but I'm glad we could talk."

He's not all that surprised that she remains immune to whatever charm he's peripherally aware he has, though he nearly tries to defend himself, arguing that he's sincere. He is, at that. Even if this doesn't work in the long run, Jet needs someone he can rely on. Being alone is fine for some people, but Jet gets numb if he's in his own head for too long. It's why he's always talking, Albert thinks, remembering the thready voice through the grate all those years ago.

"You have my word, Miss Cathy. I hope I won't be a burden from now on. Please, don't let me keep you."

By the time Jet comes back up the stairs to his hallway, Cathy's long gone. He has a box in hand that contains the spoils of his search: a generous number of bagels of different kinds complete with a few cream cheese spreads.

He comes in with the same pleased smile he'd left with, although it fades by a few shades when he notices Albert sitting on the arm of the couch looking...bothered or something.

"I wasn't gone that long, was I?" He stuck with a light tone until he knew what was going on in his partner's head. Jet set the box on the coffee table and laid a hand on Albert's arm. "Hey...what's wrong?"

"Hm? Oh, welcome back." Albert grins a little. Now that Cathy's not in his face anymore, the whole thing is pretty amusing. "I was ambushed."

With a grunt, he rises and delicately chooses an onion bagel from the lot and plants a light kiss on Jet's cheek as he retreats to the kitchen for a knife.

"W-what? Ambushed? By who, what happened?" He took a look around as though he half expected to suddenly find assailants lying on the ground or signs of a struggle he hadn't seen before, but if anything the place looked cleaner.

Jet followed the German into his kitchen, determined to get an explanation for that word choice before he satisfied his grumbling stomach.

"By your neighbor." He spreads the scallion cream cheese on his bagel and turns back to Jet, leaning against the counter. "She gave me the third degree, not that I didn't deserve it."

He was confused for all of five seconds and then it dawned on him who it must have been. "Cathy! What'd she say to you!?" It was a squawk of indignation as everything he'd ever told her ran through his head.

He'd never even considered it before: Cathy and Albert meeting, they were on different planes in his mind and those planes didn't overlap. Now, of course, he could see how silly that was.

"Basically the whole 'what are your intentions with my son?' talk. I didn't expect to meet your mother so quickly!" He bites into a bagel with a grin, knowing full well Cathy isn't Jet's parent, but she's certainly protective like one and as inwardly uncomfortable and confused about the entire exchange as he is, he may just be paying it forward a little bit in how he explains the encounter to his partner.

If Albert wanted to make jet feel uncomfortable, he was succeeding. "She's not my mom, she's just a..friend, I guess. I walked her son home a lot, kept him company, that stuff. His dad walked out and Cathy's gotta work two jobs to live so..." So he'd stepped in as Jimmy's friend, someone to talk to, a big brother of sorts, sure. He shrugged.

Jet decided this was a good enough time to escape and grab a bagle, digging into that and flopping down on the couch before speaking up again. "She talked to you about when I came back here, didn't she?" It was entirely possible she hadn't and Jet was shooting himself in the foot, but it was also very unlikely, Cathy being who she was.

"She did." He follows Jet back to the couch, leaning over the back of it to slide his arms, bagel still in hand, around Jet's shoulders from behind and plant a gentle kiss into the soft hair at the back of Jet's head. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you the way I did..."

"It's fine." It had hurt, but now it was impossible to feel any of that with Albert's arms around him. Jet leaned into the touch a bit and reached up to tug on Albert's arm, an expression of his desire for his partner to join him.

"She shouldn't've said anything. Don't worry about it like you worry about things sometimes, alright? You more than made up for it."

There were times when Albert would take things like that and dwell on them and brood and then when that dark cloud descended on his partner, all the things he'd ever brooded about or felt sorry for swelled up tenfold and tried to take him down with them. That was where Jet came in, but he didn't want to add even a single thing to the already too-large pile of fodder.

Edited 2014-01-23 23:52 (UTC)

"I'll try." He shifts around the couch to come sit next to Jet, polishing off his bagel. "It does bother me though, even if she hadn't said anything."

Albert leans his head on Jet's shoulder lightly, privately reveling in the simple fact that he's allowed that closeness again. He'd missed it, in their time apart. Missed the other man's slim form against his broader one, missed the warmth Jet radiates. Missed that feeling of acceptance that only Jet can instill in him. It almost helps him accept himself to know that someone can care for him that way. Almost.

Maybe he should try. Albert turns his head and nips at Jet's ear. "I think there might still be things I should make up for."

There's a small shiver in response and he leaned down for a quick kiss before replying. "Well, if you feel like you need to, I wouldn't mind knowing what you've got in mind."

As though to further his point, Jet wrapped his arms around the older cyborg's torso, holding him against Jet's chest as he leaned in to pepper more kisses wherever he could.

With a smug smile into Jet's lips, Albert wraps his arms around Jet and picks him up, carrying the taller but lighter man to the bedroom. He'd been thinking about it vaguely since the night before, but after Cathy gave him an earful, there's something that Albert feels he should have shared with Jet even if it makes him uncomfortable. He said he was in and he meant it, and that should mean all of him.

Albert deposits his partner onto the still mussed sheets and steals another long kiss before pulling away, going for the buttons on his shirt and trying to keep his anxiety over the decision hidden.

There was a bit of a startled squwak from the red-head, but he didn't actually protest the actions, not when they put an excited little smile on his face.

The smile faded, however, as he watched Albert's fingers deftly working at the buttons on his shirt. He reached out to place his hands on Albert's, concern clear in his ace and voice. "Albert...you don't have to do that if it's just going to make you uncomfortable, I told you it was fine."

Not that he didn't want that feeling of body against body--even if the other body was predominantly metal--he just didn't want Albert to feel pressured to do something he didn't want to.

"It may not be all the time, but... I want to prove it to you. I want to show you that this isn't just something fleeting, this is real." He lifts Jet's hand to his lips and kisses the younger man's knuckles. "I'm comfortable being uncomfortable if it's for you."

Metal fingers return to undoing the last two buttons, Albert's shirt hanging from tense shoulders and revealing the metallic blocky structure of his torso underneath. He knows Jet's seen it before; Gilmore needs help with maintenance sometimes and other times there are emergencies after battle, such as with the Mythos cyborgs. This is different though. This isn't out of necessity, not an unsolicited glimpse, but instead an invitation for Jet, perhaps just this once, to explore intimately.

Carefully, Albert takes Jet's hands in his own tremulous grip and places the American's palms against his stomach, unnatural curves covered in slightly rubbery synthetic skin his to map.

So long as Albert is condoning it, Jet decides he'll go along with it. Besides, if this is to be one of his few chances to explore his partner, he can't pass over it.

Tentative hands are feather-light at first, as they brush across Albert's stomach and to his sides, but with each centimeter they explore, he gets bolder. There's more pressure behind the touches, more certainty, and Jet takes the time to let his fingers touch along every dip and curve in the other man's body--memorizing.

They move from stomach to sides, up Albert's back to his shoulders and then back down his chest, every touch appreciative and caked in careful dedication. His hands brush back up to Albert's tense shoulders and brush the material off of them to let the shirt fall to the floor.

His hands slid down skin and metal arms to catch Albert's hands, turn them over and give kisses to each palm. Then he stood and pressed in close, his hands finding Albert's shoulder's again and beginning to work at the muscles there as best he could around the metal parts.

"Relax, Al. I...can't tell you what I'm thinking, but I can show you, if you'll let me. Lay back on the bed?

It's a relief that Jet would take the lead. Albert's more confident in his handling of the younger man after last night, but being this nervous about himself and having to pull Jet along by the hand would have been too much. Instead he gets the redheads bold explorations sending thrills though his body and putting knots in his stomach. His breath hitches when Jet divests him of the shirt and at the kisses to his palms he stops breathing altogether for a moment, nearly pulling the right hand away for how much he doesn't want Jet's lips anywhere near the weapon.

Then Jet's standing in front of him, hands working at the real muscle left under the simulated tissue and Albert practically melts right there. His shoulders get the most sore out of anything, vibrations from firing his machine gun rattling everything around. They'd been reinforced when he'd been remodeled, but there's still enough organic structure under there to cause him impressive amounts of pain on his worst days. Jet's fingers are like a balm and Albert lets out a little moan in spite of himself. It takes him a moment to realize Jet was speaking.

"Alright," he says softly, pressing a kiss to Jet's cheek and moving around him to climb on the bed. He misses those hands on his shoulders already but Jet's in charge and Albert can't say that doesn't excite him, the thought of how clever Jet is in other arenas of life giving way to all manner of curiosity at just what he'll come up with in the bedroom. Though, frankly, even the simplest things with Jet he imagines to be perfect. It's the company that makes it exciting.

Albert settles in with his shoulders on the pillows, propped up a bit so he can still see Jet and hands folded in his lap, looking at his partner for what comes next and trying hard not to dwell on how exposed he feels.

Jet stays where he's at for a moment, just looking Albert over unabashedly, then he crawls onto the bed and over his partner to give a long, deep, kiss.
When he pulls away, it isn't too far and his hands find a place on Albert's shoulders again, remembering the sound Albert had made when Jet had worked the muscle there.

"If you want, I'll do that again later, longer this time, for now...try not to move."

He almost turned it into a request, but while his voice still held that gentleness, it was not a request, he didn't want Albert trying to reciprocate or stop him or anything. Not yet.

He started at Albert's neck with a patch of kisses and licks and even a small hickey, but didn't linger too long. He anticipated Albert getting turned on, but he didn't want to do it too quickly.

Then it was the older man's collar and shoulders, every inch receiving kisses and sucks and lap of an exploratory tongue and the tender touches of hands set out to map what he intended to learn as well as he knew his own body.

This treatment continued down Albert's body, each arm, his chest, his stomach, and every place he knew had real muscle beneath it received extra attention in the form of a small massage. he only stopped when he'd run out of available body to lavish attention on, choosing instead to move back up Albert's body with a trail of kisses and his hands running along the older man's back as best they could, until his lips found the German's once more.

"Ah, Jet..." It's barely a plaintive whisper, but Albert flinches just a little at the rough treatment of his neck and the idea of the bruise he likely left there. It's embarrassing and forward, but there's something exciting about it too, something he can't deny makes his stomach flutter just a little.

He quiets down quickly, mesmerized by the way Jet slides down his body, by just how intent he is on each little bit of Albert regardless of if its organic or synthetic. He tries valiantly to do as Jet said, to keep his hands to himself, but even as he can't take his eyes from Jet and his undeniably sensual explorations, Albert's discomfort at having his mangled body paid so much attention rears up and he puts his hands on Jet's shoulders without thinking, not pushing him away but definitely tense and meant to stop.

It takes him a moment to realize what he's doing and he withdraws his hands hurriedly. "Sorry, I don't know-- I mean I... ah..."

Damnit. "I didn't mean to do that."

There was a patience in how Jet reacted that surprised even himself.

"It's okay." He sat up and quickly rid himself of his own shirt, then his hands found and entwined with both of Albert's. Slowly, he lowered himself down on top of the older man so they were pressed chest to chest, holding his partner's hands on either side of his Albert's head as he tried to kiss him again.

"Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'm just...trying to show you." Show that he wanted all of the man he was with because it was Albert.

The kiss is soft and loving and Albert tries not to choke up at the confirmation that Jet cares for him at least as much as he does in return.

"I know.." Albert almost swallows his own voice as he curls his fingers, threading them between Jet's. "It's difficult for me. You have the ability to fly and that's something neutral, but I was made just to destroy. They made me nothing but a weapon. I have no warmth or softness, not like you."

The German's eyes wander away as if he'd been looking at the sun for too long. It's almost like that, laying here. Jet's so bright and he's...not. He wasn't lying when he said he didn't deserve someone like Jet, that he'd have to spend his whole life trying. Color rises on his face unbidden at that, that Jet would want him anyway. He turns his gaze back to those amber eyes and that fiery hair and still manages to smile softly, albeit in a self deprecative way. "Sorry. I know you hate to hear me talk like that."

"No, I don't, because it's not true." Jet squeezed Albert's left hand and let it go to bring it to the side of Albert's face. He wanted the German to hear him. He already knew this wouldn't likely fix anything, but he hoped it helped for a little while at least.

"You're a lot more than a weapon. I know your cybernetics are meant for destruction, but you're not destructive. You say you have no warmth or softness, but you're wrong there too. Yours just isn't physical like I know you want it to be. But it's not gone.

I've seen the way you handle things like flowers or plates, even Ivan or anyone else, you're always soft, nothing breaks or gets hurt just 'cause you're touching it. And the warmth...hell, I see that every day I see you. Your smiles and looks are warm and that's what matters.

So, yeah, your chest is hard and cold but so what? I'll warm it up just by laying here, the stuff that needs to be warm, the stuff that counts, you've already got that."

Jet was hardly so eloquent with things like this, but most of the time he was trying to describe how he felt, something subjective. This wasn't a feeling he couldn't name correctly, this was earnest truth, indisputable in the younger cyborg's mind. And fact was always easier to deliver than feeling.

Edited 2014-01-26 06:48 (UTC)

It's a touched sort of smile that settles on Albert's lips, though there's the shadow behind it still, that little seed of self hatred that remains stuck behind every attempt to convince him he's not just a machine or a weapon, as if Black Ghost put that there alongside the rest of their modifications. But the fact that Jet would even try to convince him, that he's laying here skin to skin even though Albert knows it can't be comfortable in the slightest, it makes his own arguments seem so much less powerful.

"She's right. I really don't deserve you." He slips one hand from Jet's and cups the younger man's cheek instead, running his thumb lightly against soft skin and then craning his neck so he can reach to kiss him.

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