thecapitol | [Closed] Heaven or hell or somewhere in between

They'd been getting better, them together. With Albert's help and Jet's daily walks, he was working through the damage the drugs had caused. More than once it had occurred to him that this would have been made easier if he'd simply died and been brought back while on a mission for the Capitol, but it hadn't happened and Jet wasn't going to put himself in harm's way and potentially hurt Albert just to fix himself faster.

If his own determination and Albert's support couldn't fix the problem, then he'd deal with what was left.

And, by himself, he'd been making decent strides. He remembered more and better, the fake or drugged memories were like a bad dream where the real ones hung brighter, more vived even while some of them he wished were just bad dreams. Perhaps it was almost a kindness, these fake memories that were meant to replace the bad ones and distract him into complacency, but he'd rather have the pain and the bitterness and the anger because it was real and it was what Albert held too. And it came hand-in-hand with the happiness and the love that were in other memories, ones that soon followed after the ones that hurt.

He wouldn't trade those for the world.

With his progress came his and Albert's closeness, gentle touches turned into tight arms wrapped around each other and comfort in each other's touch, but all light things, gentle and chaste and not the fire and passion he remembered. He understood why, there'd been times in those early weeks when he'd lost himself and suddenly he was eighteen and ignorant of their situation or even just a couple years younger and without the memory of their wedding, despite his desperate attempts to hold to the memory. He hardly wanted to hurt Albert by suddenly forgetting where or who he was in the middle of whatever they were doing and saying something or, worse flipping out for whatever perceived reason. So, no, he didn't begrudge his husband's hesitation to be any closer than they were.

But it had been some weeks since anything like that had happened, he'd kept his head with only blanks and uncertainty to show for the damage done instead of completely forgetting. Jet wanted to try, he wanted to make new memories instead of spending all his time clinging to and fixing old ones.

He just also knew he'd have to be the one to start something. That was fine.

He waited for Albert in their room, retiring early from his social calls for the day (just more pointless talk, although at least this time he heard a slight hesitation in his Capitolite host's tone when discussion of 'changes' came up. The war no one talked about wasn't as secret as Snow had been hoping). When Albert came in, Jet stood from the bed to greet him, going to his partner with a soft "Hey" and initiating a simple kiss.

"Hey." He's fresh from the showers, smelling like government issued soap and the cigarette he'd smoked on his way back. His hair is starting to dry and curling at the ends while his plain tee sticks to his chest; he'd put it on while still a bit damp in his haste to get out of the communal showers. He's never liked that, even with his military lifestyle back in Germany. Too self-conscious usually, ingrained in him from the cybernetics even if here they're not a big deal by any stretch. It's an old habit, the kind that doesn't die easy.

He kisses back as a matter of course, not lacking in affection but his mind miles away on the mess of other mundane things. What's for dinner, does he need to send out laundry, and the general background anxieties of trying to stage a rebellion in enemy territory without compromising their position entirely. You know, normal stuff.

Albert sits himself on the bed and takes the towel from around his neck to ruffle the water out of his hair, having not even an inkling that Jet might have been making plans. "How was your walk?"

"Good. Same-old."

Jet sat beside Albert and, after a moment, pushed the towel back so it was away from his partner's face. "You seem distracted." If there was something weighing on Albert's mind, more than the usual at least, Jet wanted to know before he stuck his pride out there to try anything.

He knew what to do if Albert tried to play the 'in your condition' card, but he didn't have a plan for 'sorry, I'm simply not in the mood.'

"Not by anything out of the ordinary." He smiles gently at Jet moving the towel, that soft smile just for his Sparrow. "Did you need something?"

Jet falters a little. Yes, he definitely needed something...but he'd never been very good about asking. Usually, he didn't need to, not for years.

"Yeah..." Jet leaned forward, his fingers curling behind his partner's neck as he pressed their lips together. It was soft at first, gentle. A moment more found the kiss turning deeper and more needy. Jet's other hand pressed to the bed's surface as he leaned further into Albert's personal space; hopefully, Albert would get the hint.

A hint from Jet is more like a glaring neon sign, in this case with the blinking text declaring 'bed me!' in colorful font.

Albert kisses back until he kiss grows less gentle and he can feel the edge of Jet's tongue trying to worm its way to meet his own. Then, he puts on the breaks, drawing back his head and holding one hand against Jet's cheek to reassure as much as keep him at bey for a moment.

"Jet... Are you certain?"

It's been a trying several months. Jet's mind, addled as it was, had sent him back through near every period of his life as far as Albert could tell. To say it was difficult for Jet would be a severe understatement, almost an outright lie for all it doesn't encompass, but it hasn't been easy for Albert either. Watching his husband struggle, having to bring him back to the present and reality and no I'm sorry Joe's not here, your gang isn't here, your mother isn't here...

Jet may have recovered enough that the last episode he'd had was nearly three weeks ago, and he'd brought himself out of it, but Albert still can't banish the thought of working Jet over and suddenly it's not his Jet but one half his age and frightened. Albert's certain if that happened it would put him off of anything but the most simple of touches forever.

"I don't want you to push yourself just because you feel you should."

Yes, of course Albert couldn't just take the hint and go with it. Jet hadn't really been expecting it to work, but he'd hoped. Damn this man for being good.

His fingers play with silver hair lightly even as he shakes his head. "I don't feel like I 'should push myself' I feel like I want to sleep with my husband because it's been a long time."

He didn't even feel the embarrassment he expected, there was no warmth to his skin or color on his cheeks, he wasn't embarrassed by what he wanted, he simply wanted it and the idea he might be forcing himself to want something he'd only ever enjoyed annoyed him into feeling bold.

"You trust me, right? Trust me enough to know what I want." He leaned forward, but only to press their foreheads together. "Trust me to want to keep you happy, I don't want to hurt you anymore. I wouldn't suggest this if I thought there might be a chance I'd...flip out or something. I don't want to do that to you."

He'd expected Jet to tell him he was sure. He expected Jet to be a bit indignant. What Albert didn't expect is for Jet to cut right to the heart of it, to know Albert is worried not just for Jet's well being but for his own, that he couldn't take suddenly not being wanted in their shared bed.

"I do trust you..." He does, with his entire being he does, he just knows that drugs can do things to you, that what you want isn't always enough to be what really happens. But it does help, knowing Jet sees what worries Albert, what pain he actually tries to spare himself even if, were it to happen regardless, he would do his level best to take it in stride just as he always had, just as he had this entire time.

He kisses Jet lightly, pressing his lips against his husband's as a promise of more to come, but draws back just enough first to speak again. "I want you, too. I've missed you, us, doing this, but I-" He swallows, fighting a small lump in his throat that comes out in a forced exhale, as if he'd gulped too much air. "You're sure?"

Jet smirked and shook his head, an edge of amusement in his hushed voice. "What do I gotta say, Al? 'Take me now?' Yes, I'm sure...now shut up and kiss me."

He didn't give Albert much of a choice as he pressed their lips together again. The kiss was soft at first, as before, but he pressed closer and dove his tongue into his partner's mouth. A hand came to rest between them on the older man's chest so Jet could push him back on the bed, the blond careful to never break the kiss as he followed Albert down.

"That does help." Jet's on him again and this time Albert's more than receptive. He lets himself sink backwards, Jet coming to rest atop him on the bed even while Albert kisses back with furious abandon. He wasn't lying when he said he'd missed it; months without sex, even for Albert's admittedly less active drive, is too long, especially when wishing in that secret place in his head that things were back to normal, that he could just forget all of their current issues and take his husband to bed when he wanted like regular people have the luxury of doing. The impossibility of a thing makes it sting more in the lack thereof, worse when you have the memory to keep from before.

He delves his tongue against Jet's and pushing back into Jet's mouth in turn, bumping teeth sloppily but wanting their kiss deep as if he can't wait a moment longer to be inside his husband, whatever form it takes. His body feels electric, oversensitive after having held himself back for so long, all his nerves on end and twitching with the touch of Jet's fingers on his chest even through his shirt.

But the worries still linger, the thought that Jet will suddenly reel back, frightened and confused, and Albert forces himself to slow down. He breaks their lip lock, panting hard enough for air that he sees Jet lift and fall with his chest as Albert refills his lungs. "Slowly. Please, I want to make certain."

They haven't tried this since Jet's brain had been addled; who knows what the event might trigger. He needs to make sure he keeps his husband here, keeps him grounded, as they go. As much as he aches to do so, they can't get carried away.

He kisses Jet again, this time more tenderly at the corners of his mouth, as if begging him to understand while still promising to continue. He won't leave Jet wanting, even if they're careful. Smooth metal fingers slip lightly over the skin of Jet's sides under his shirt, not going further than they're bidden just yet. "Let me help you undress."

Slowly. It would be better if they took their time, it's not like they din't have any to take. As much as he just wanted to feel Albert against him, their skin warm and wet with sweat as they moved together, he also didn't want it over so quickly. He wanted it to last.

Albert's words hearken back to a chilly day in a New York apartment, a time when they went slow. When they wanted to be sure together. But it doesn't feel more real than now, it's only a memory and one easily brushed aside for the here and now.

He nods and takes the fervor out of his kisses. A shiver runs up his spine, a trail left by Albert's fingers on his skin. "Okay." He wants to feel the press of their chests together, a sensation he'd always loved more than most, but he'd follow Albert's pace of things for now. He was looking out for them both, after all.

He lifted his arms up to let his partner peel the shirt back.

Doing this requires a small change in posture and Albert manages to show Jet what he needs him to do without words, guiding his husband with a gentle kiss to his mouth and equally gentle but firm hands coaxing the taller man to sit up on Albert's hips instead of laying atop him like a pleased tabby.

Albert doesn't just remove Jet's shirt haphazardly in a flurry. It's not an obstacle in this case, but part of the process. Gently, steel fingers catch the lower hem and slide upward with Albert's fingertips sliding lightly along Jet's sides as he raises the fabric. It's not meant to make him shiver and quake but instead something sweetly gentle and tentative, slow not for agonizing anticipation but to afford Jet the opportunity to stop him if he needs to.

The shirt comes off without mishap, Albert careful to maneuver his hands to the collar so it slips over Jet's head without catching on his chin or nose. For a moment Jet's face is obscured by the fabric and when the shirt is over his crown and being slid off of his arms, Albert smiles to see his husband again. Bright blue eyes watching him intently and mussed golden hair reflecting the evening glow from the window. Finally, Albert lets the shirt drop and sits up a bit himself, admiring the sight even while he makes certain that Jet is still with him. Without thought, the German rests his hand over Jet's heart, letting it stay there before starting a tactile tour of the blond's chest and torso with the same pass of fingers that had divested Jet of his shirt; giving, not taking. Intimate, but not coaxing. It's touch for its own sake, not for the express purpose of sex.

Going slow was always an exercise in patience for Jet. He loved Albert and he loved being with Albert, but his impatience and desire to be closer sooner often made his movements and desires hurried. He wanted to feel Albert's touch, metal and skin, he wanted to feel them press and move together, Albert inside, filling him, and his husband's pants and grunts and sounds of pleasure. Knowing he was the cause for his partner's pleasure was just as good as the pleasure he received himself and much more important to him.

But what made that important was the fact he was making Albert happy, which was the most important thing he could do. Right now, the key to making Albert happy was letting him set the pace, even if it was frustrating on some level, he also knew his partner was doing it for Jet. And he felt grateful for that as well. Just as he wanted to take care of Albert and his needs, Albert was just as intent on doing the same for him.

Albert's smile at Jet reappearing from beneath the fabric of his shirt is returned with one from Jet, a smile that stays in place as Albert's fingers trace and trail along his skin.The gentle press of metal to flesh is familiar and comforting and there's a clearly pleased look on the blond's face for it.

But Jet wasn't good about sitting idly by and soaking up Albert's attentions, so his fingers traced down metal arms and then dropped off to slip gently under the fabric of Albert's shirt and trace the skin of his partner's abdomen.

Carefully, so carefully, Albert traces his hands downward, watching Jet for any sense of discomfort and trying to keep out of the way of Jet's hands trekking over his body, leaving goosebumps in their wake when they touch flesh.

His abdomen is all muscle; they may be back in the Capitol but there's still little to do with their spare time than exercise. Albert's morning workouts had expanded to several hour sessions, probably to an unhealthy degree, but it leaves him lacking in body fat most places. When Jet's hands sneak up under his shirt, they find rock hard muscle with no give that ripples just a little under questing fingers and his own movement.

Movement that leans him forward, that let him press his lips to pale skin, bruising his lips against his teeth to keep himself from placing marks. Not yet. He's not certain yet, but lord does he want to. Instead he travels along Jet's collar bone, nibbling feather-lightly and bushing his fingers again over exposed sides, this time traveling downward, meeting hips, palming what he can reach of his husband's still-clothed thighs, carefully trying to maneuver and find if Jet is yet at attention without crossing the boundaries he's set for himself too early.

He breathes softly into hollow made by Jet's chest and neck, glancing down to his hand hovering over the button and zipper of his husband's pants, trying to see within their shadows without moving more than an inch from how close he stays to Jet. Not that he could go far with Jet in his lap as he is, but his husband's positioned himself so he can't actually just go by feel, not without purposely feeling him up. Which they may both enjoy, but he doesn't want to be in the middle of that and have Jet suddenly elsewhere.

"Are you...?" Albert looks up at Jet's face from under a fringe of silver hair. For all the progress they've made since they first started dating, Albert still has trouble wording what he actually wants to ask boldly. It's just not in his normal lexicon.

If Albert's attentions weren't enough to rile Jet up, finding that hard muscle in his partner's torso sure did. Jet's fingers brushed and trailed and touched as much of his husband's stomach and chest as he could reach. The shirt soon found itself peeled off so nothing was in Jet's way.

And then Albert's hesitation and fumbling attempts to voice a question Jet didn't feel he should need to ask drew his attention back to Albert's face. Jet's expression was soft and full of unbridled affection. Jet leans down to press gentle kisses to Albert's face and lips, one less gentle kiss ended with a light nip to his husband's bottom lip.

"Come on, Al. Neither of us're gonna break. I'm still with you." It wasn't quite the answer to the question Albert had, but just as Albert could barely ask it, Jet barely knew how to answer. Besides, he had something in mind. Something he hadn't done in ages. "But if you aren't ready to take what you'd like, then I guess I'll have to."

He smirked and climbed off Albert's lap with a gesture telling his husband to wait. Jet's pants were next to hit the floor, though he kept his boxers on for now. In the next moment, he was back in Albert's lap, one hand curled behind his husband's head. He peppered more kisses to Albert's brow before leaning forward to topple them to the bedspread, his other hand going out to steady them.

With Albert laying back, Jet began an achingly slow descent down Albert's chest. Every inch was covered by a kiss or a gentle touch as though every inch of Albert's body ere holy to him.

Their plans were in motion, that web of connections they'd talked about building, it was built and now the time to yank on the ends and see what caught was approaching.

The rebellion would do what it could with what it had and now Jet and Albert would do what they could with what they had. As soon as it was a good time to set things in motion. Not yet. Not yet, but soon.

Soon enough, it was leaving Jet a little more subdued, a little more quiet and thoughtful. Outside, he still acted the same and, when talking to Albert, he acted the same for him. His thoughtfulness came in the silence, the lack of other interaction that left Jet to his thoughts.

Thoughts he finally decided to share on a rainy day when the Capitol itself seemed to slow down and offer them a little pocket of time. Jet was sitting in a chair by the window, looking out to the rain-drenched city when Albert came nearby enough for Jet to reach out and catch his arm and pull it close.

"I always thought 'the calm before the storm' didn't happen during storms."

"Generally no, that's why it's called the calm before the storm." Albert appeases his husband by moving to sit on the sill and not forcing him to give up the arm he'd caught. "But I know that's not what you meant."

A joke, and a typical bad one in true Jet Link style. He really has improved by leaps and bounds to the man who barely could remember what century it was when Albert had first returned to the Capitol. It makes him smile a bit, though he also reads it for the thin veil over doubt that it is. He looks at Jet expectantly, not asking what's wrong or what's up, knowing Jet will tell him when it suits him, otherwise Albert wouldn't have been grabbed.

Albert sits nearby and Jet feels a warm gratitude for his partner. For having him here with him, having him nearby to touch and look at. For as long as they had now. He'd drink in every moment they had left.

It's quiet between them a moment before Jet finally works the words out of his throat, quiet for only their ears and not the bugs likely around the detainment center.

"It's all going to end soon, one way or another. We'll be caught and killed, maybe not brought back. Or they might torture us." There wasn't concern in his voice when he said it, least of all for himself, though it could be argued there was a note there for Albert's sake. More than that, though, it was a statement of fact. He was simply addressing what neither of them had talked about yet: their plan would have consequences.

"We knew this going in." It's not a chastisement but more meant to reestablished what they'd already decided. That they're going to see this through to whatever end because they must, because that something they've been waiting on to give isn't giving and they'll need to push it to get any result.

"We have to do something or nothing will change."

"Yeah."

Jet held Albert's stolen hand in both of his, a near-reverence in the care of his touch. He traced lines and joints in the metal, different than the ones he'd memorized years ago, but still familiar.

"I'm not having second thoughts. Just...thoughts. I don't know." A humorless smile played at the corner of his lips. "Honestly, kinda hope they just torture us, at least it'd be nothing new and we know we can get through it. Death would mean-" The smile fell and he raised Albert's fingers to his lips for a light kiss before turning his face to press his cheek to the cool metal instead, his eyes directed out the window once again. Death would mean Mocawa and hopelessness and the likelihood Jet would fail Albert all over again. No, he'd rather be gutted alive than have them die and go back. He'd rather be brainwashed or drugged all over again than watch Albert suffer like he had under Jaden's tricks.

"I would say I hope we don't get caught at all, but the people need to be shown why we'll have done what we plan to do." He watches Jet turn his hand over and trace the joints, kiss his fingers then press them into his cheek.

"We can try to run, to hide, after, but if we are caught I suspect we'll be held for awhile. They'll want to know who the leak is." Better to be a realist about this. It's possible they could disappear into the city disguised as Capitolites or take the system of sewers and access tunnels to the edge of the Capitol and run out altogether, but that would leave whoever helped them in jeopardy and they wouldn't get far regardless. They're chipped again, after all. At least if they're caught, they can claim to have worked on their own for the bombing at least, protecting anyone else who threw their lot in with them by spinning a story of coercion and threats. It would be so easily believable to the Capitol when they do the same thing themselves.

"By then, ideally, it will be too late."

Jet chuckled to himself and shook his head only a little so his skin didn't leave the metal.

"His Voice. Joe said something similar about showing the people they could and would need to fight. Guess this qualifies us as martyrs."

He sat up then, an edge to his gaze that threatened to slice Albert, should he move the wrong way. "And we will do this together, yes? None of the 'kicking one out of the way so the bullet only hits the other' crap we've both done before, right? I'll be happy to walk into whatever fire they've got for us so long as-" The words died on his lips, their absence hanging in the air, but their meaning wasn't lost.

He sighed, more tired than distressed and set his forehead to Albert's cool metal hand where his cheek had been.

"We will"

There's a long pause between what Jet says and when Albert responds. A pause to give the moment the gravity it deserves, the respect it deserves. For most of their lives Jet and Albert have lived with the possibility of death over their heads; Albert's little-used moniker is even that he is the god of such, meant to show just how effective of a weapon he'd been built to be but subverted by the course of the German's life in meaning as he hadn't been one to die at all even in the most dire circumstances. It's always been a frightening prospect, but even the scariest things can become mundane if faced enough.

But this is different. This isn't heat of the moment, maybe we'll slip up and bite it. This is knowing that Death is very likely waiting at the end of this path, whether immediately or after the Capitol has had their fun. Maybe it will be a final rest, maybe not, but there's something so much more heavy in the choosing than in the farce the Capitol put on them through the Arenas.

But this time... together.

"We will," softer now, Albert's breath barely brushing Jet's hair.

Death didn't scare him, not in the 'this might kill me, maybe I shouldn't do it' kind of way. If something needed to be done and Jet could do it, he would, that had always been the way. It was why he'd died already.

No, death scared him for it's finality, or what was supposed to be it's finality. It scared him because of all he could miss and he'd seen those effects all around him, just being frozen for decades and waking up later showed him how life could and would move on without him. There was a comfort in that, but also an insignificance and loss that scared him more than anything. He feared death for what it meant for the survivors, he simply had to look to his husband as example for that.

He'd felt the loss of Albert as his partner had lost Jet himself and he didn't want it for either of them again. If they would go, it would be together, as it should have been ages ago.

But there was also something else in the fact they were choosing this. In choosing it, they were almost ensuring it would be the end for them both, but in choosing it, they were going against every fiber in Jet's being. All those years he'd railed against Albert's pull towards his own demise, how wrong it had always seemed to Jet...this was like that but it also wasn't. It was like flying into the atmosphere, knowing after making the decision there wouldn't be a return trip.

Except it was better this time. Yes, they would be leaving people behind, but people who had others, who could move on like they should. He wasn't abandoning Albert. Albert wasn't abandoning him. It was a relief.

"Good."

[Closed] Heaven or hell or somewhere in between

Before the breakout (NSFW)

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A couple weeks after the breakout

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