thearena | [Closed] And if I close my eyes

When the first crack of thunder broke the silence of the arena, Jet was still nearly a mile from where he was supposed to be and he swore quietly to himself as he picked up the pace. This was what he got for deciding to practice what traps he could set up near the river.

He'd seemingly been successful with them in the sense that he now had a new body for Albert to skin and add to their dried meat stores, but with the traps so far from 'home' there was no way he was making it back before the rain.

Seconds later, a few, fat, drops fell on his head as the final warning before the clouds opened up and let loose wave after freezing wave of cold rain water and wind. Another curse silently directed at the Gamemakers and Jet took off, hoping he could at least limit the time he was getting drenched if not limit the amount of water actually soaking him through.

Had the situation been the same as when Jet set out that morning, the tree wouldn't have offered much protection. Luckily, they'd been the recipients of a plethora of sponsor gifts that afternoon and Albert had taken little time in stringing up one of the water-proof sleeping bags as a canopy over their arboreal camp. After all, the sky's looked like rain all day.

He's taken advantage of the rain and the hunting knife that had come in Jet's gifts to shave off his week's growth of beard. Sometimes there's no help for him getting scraggy, especially in these Arenas that are outdoors with scarce supplies, but since he has the opportunity he takes it. Dry shaving isn't his favorite and he's left with a less than smooth shave, but by the time Jet comes traipsing back with dinner, he at least looks more like himself.

"You're soaked. Come up here and dry off. We've got presents."

"Yeah?" He threw the body of what was either a doe or an older fawn over a branch just outside the tree house and heaved himself into the protection of their base. "I got one too."

Still dripping, he relegated himself to the farthest corner of their small space and began fighting with his soaked boots as his eyes ran over the new additions. That sleeping bag arrived just in time, it seemed. Although, none of their gifts seemed to include a towel.

His boots off, he started stripping off the layers and laying them out and hanging them up as best he could to give them a chance at drying. A small pause and even the pants went, leaving him in soaked boxers only. He wasn't about to give the Capitol something special to air. "How exactly am I supposed to dry off?...god it's cold." A shiver ran through him now that the wind could find damp and bare skin and his expression turned to a scowl. If he knew the direction to face for a camera right now, he'd show the Gamemakers a different kind of bird.

"Warmer in here than out there," he goes to the edge of their platform and sticks the knife out into the rain in order to wash it. Not the most sanitary, but he'll run it through the fire and the meat will be cooked so it'll do. He goes to do just that to the knife before starting to prepare the kill, planting a kiss on Jet's temple as he lets the knife's blade burn itself to cleanliness. "Come sit by the fire while I take care of this."

He drags the deer to the edge of their tree fort and cuts into it, the knife nice and sharp even after its first use being for shaving. He lets the blood spill to the ground below, knowing it well might call predator animals by scent but also that human beings, in general, will go the opposite way of the scent of death. Besides, it's pouring rain and he doesn't want to lug the carcass out into the wilderness just to lug it all back a bit lighter.

Jet's hand came up to graze Albert's face, but he pulled it back, thinking better of the action with Albert's face skin and the metal already severely chilled. That wouldn't be a very comfortable greeting.

Obediently, he abandoned the 'wet corner' and moved over to the fire and the stack of stuff they'd obtained. After a quick glance through, his eyes settled on what seemed to be a blanket and fished it out to wrap around his shoulders and protect his back from the cold drips of his still wet hair. Settled down closer to the fire, Jet could feel his organic parts beginning to lose their chill, leaving him with some fatigue as he relaxed. "Think you can get that dry in this weather?" They'd been subsisting off of making their rations last longer than they had any right to and most of that was from drying the meat of their catches, but with all the humidity in the air, he didn't even know if his clothes would get dry, much less meat.

"No idea, but if not we'll eat well tonight and it's cold enough to keep for at least a day as long as we keep it covered." He'll try, but Jet's estimation is correct. It's far too humid for jerky, but they have food supplies for at least a little while, and it's relatively ample here in the woods.

"How did you down this by yourself? It's enormous." He sounds impressed, if anything. They both may have training for outdoor survival, but all of that always ended in 'wait for the rescue copter.' Jet, though, Jet knows a lot more than he ever displayed when they were out with their team.

There's a stirring he recognized as being flustered in his chest, but it's not very strong and he passes over it. He knew what he was good at, this was just one of those things. He did, however, shrug one shoulder and look to the fire.

"It wasn't all me, but I appreciate you thinking it was. I mean, I caused it, but I didn't take it down or anything. I set up a trap near the river, it makes it so, when something triggers it, this rope drags it into the river and drowns it."

Put into words, it sounded pretty harsh, especially since it was implied such a trap could bring down a person in much the same way. Jet didn't mention it, he was sure Albert would think of it himself and Jet decided it was in his best interest to keep silent on the subject, otherwise Albert might find out Jet had set it up knowing perfectly well that was a possibility.

The less competition, the better he could protect those who mattered.

He shifted uncomfortably, knees drawing up to his chest under the blanket.

"Clever," Albert grunts his response, the same idea running through his mind but he refuses to acknowledge it. Jet may be trying to hide that he used that trap knowingly but Albert knows his husband is smarter than that, that he must have weighed all the pros and cons of each sort of trap he could pull off in this environment. Frankly, he's not certain he shouldn't be praising Jet for it. After all, it's easier for District 13 to take someone who's died in the Arena.

But with Jet looking like that, he can't outright praise him for the decision, not when he clearly thinks he should be reprimanded for it. "It keeps the game from getting mauled. Heavier to carry back though."

Once the hide is splayed, Albert starts cutting meat from the carcass, pulling long strips to attempt and dry over the fire.

"Thanks." He took the compliment at face value and pulled the blanket in tighter around him. Why did it have to get so cold when it rained? He almost wished it was snow instead, at least then he wouldn't be nearly completely undressed and waiting for his clothes to never dry.

The sound of the meat being cut from the deer makes him wince and he couldn't tell if his stomach was turning because he was hungry or because, the last time he'd heard that sound, had been in the hell arena when he'd been sick. At least it wasn't being ripped off. He shook his head as though trying to shake the train of thought itself and reached for some of their water to get a drink.

"How long do you think that'll take? Taking it apart, I mean."

"I'm not sure. It's big. Another thirty minutes maybe?" He looks over at Jet and draws up short, noticing the posture, his expression.

"Are you feeling alright?" He looks sick, and getting ill in the Arena is near as good as death. The first aid kit has fever pills but nothing more than rudimentary.

"Yeah." It came out a little strained and Jet shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Al. Just not huge on the sound of meat tearing's all. It'll pass."

He uncurled a bit so he wasn't putting any pressure on his gut -just in case- and tried to think about things that weren't hellarena and demon-Lady with her barb-wire throat and especially didn't have anything to do with the trap or the thought he kept entertaining every time he wasn't in Albert's presence. All of them were contributing to his queasiness in different ways.

"Half an hour's not so bad, just do what you gotta do."

He says that, but if Albert didn't have the actual work to think about, the sound would probably bother him too. Especially after Kevin, after Site B... he sighs and pauses for a moment, then smiles to himself, aware Jet can't see with his back turned to his partner.

And then he starts to sing.

It's quiet and wobbly, Albert's voice unused to such an activity. He may be musically inclined, but it's always instruments and rarely his own voice save for occasionally in the shower. But Jet needs something to get his mind off of the noise and their miserable soggy camp, so he indulges.

In his mind, the song is German. A folk song his mother used to sing in the kitchen sometimes while cooking. What comes out is his strained baritone in English, yet the melody still somehow matches the words.

"There in the meadow stands a house,
and there a maiden looks out of the window
She gazes upstream, she gazes downstream:
is not my heart's beloved boy there yet?
The handsomest lad on the entire Rhine
I call mine, mine..."

It's quiet but for the sounds Jet's trying not to think about and then something else starts in over them, something that steals Jet's attention away so much that he turns to look at Albert's back as his husband sings.

Albert nearly never sang, he'd make the music, but he wouldn't sing the words that went with them, it just 'wasn't his thing.' Jet had heard him singing once in the shower but that was about it and, even if it wasn't the best performance in the world, it was the only one Jet wanted right now. He leaned his head back, eyes closed but his expression far smoother and at ease than before. This was nice.

"I like your singing." Albert didn't have to be an award-winning performer for Jet to enjoy the show he was receiving.

"It's terrible," he admonishes, but there's a smile behind it. He knows it's not the quality of his voice that Jet admires but simply the fact that Jet knows he's the only one Albert will ever sing for.

And at least it covers the sound of skinning the buck. Which is the point, of course, and there is really no reason to be embarrassed so he's certainly not blushing across the back of his neck, nope.

Jet's eyes open at the admonishment and he fixes his husband's back with a look of light annoyance. He knew Albert knew Jet wasn't talking about quality but he was still going to be a jerk about it. Jet very nearly said something about it until he noticed the color painting usually pale skin. He smirked.

"You're changing colors there, Mr. Heinrich." That was the only ribbing he gave, sparing his partner in favor of hopefully getting more out of him. "You should sing something else. It's...too bad it gets translated...but I still like it anyhow."

German wasn't a pretty language by any stretch, Jet's own Italian would likely sound more flowery and he didn't get much practice with it even before the translators, but Jet found he liked hearing it whenever Albert had used it. Singing, sharing tender terms and phrases, or even the more heated expletives given during their more private activities, they all sounded nice to Jet's ears. The angry expletives he could do without, but it was unfortunately a part of the package. Or, it was, before everything got auto-translated again. He never thought he'd miss not having a translation device.

"I don't know much else, and you have a better voice than I do, you sing something." He tries to sound as if he doesn't care, but his voice is gruff and full of bluster, as embarrassed as he is.

Something catches up to his brain from his ears after a moment though and he looks over at Jet, stopping what his hands are doing. "You like hearing German?"

He thought that just extended to when he'd confessed his feelings. Otherwise, all he remembers saying to Jet in his native tongue that he would have heard without the translator working were screamed epithets.

Jet shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe not much if someone else was throwing it around, but it sounds alright when you use it. At least, when you're mad, I don't know what you're calling me." He turned a smirk on his husband, wishing suddenly he could just lean against him or even just be sitting close enough that they touched, but that would mean getting closer to the sound and maybe even in line of sight of what Albert was doing.

"What do you want me to sing? I don't know that many 'pretty' things, mostly just stuff you can dance to.

He smirks ruefully. "Usually an idiot."

At the question, Albert shrugs. "Anything. Maybe some of that pop music from the fifties. I never heard much of that." A lot of it never made it to impoverished East Germany and while GB had tried to fill in the gaps, Jet always knew more about popular culture due to his age.

"Something like that, huh? Let me think a moment." Snatches of songs flit through his head until one caught and filled out enough that he could remember the whole thing. Trying to sing a song you don't remember completely was the worst.

"Every night I hope and pray
A dream lover will come my way
A girl to hold in my arms
And know the magic of her charms
'Cause I want. A girl. To call. My own.
I want a dream lover
So I don't have to dream alone

Dream lover, where are you
With a love, oh, so true
And the hand that I can hold
To feel you near as I grow old
'Cause I want. A girl. To call. My own.
I want a dream lover
So I don't have to dream alone." It was a catchy tune and he could remember the first time he'd heard it: a popular diner with the neighborhood teens that he and his gang had crashed to celebrate Jet taking over. It had played and most of the guys had gotten up to dance with some girls they didn't know while Jet stayed in their booth and watched, pleased for the first time he could remember since first running away from home. It was a strong memory.

He finished out the song and paused, trying to remember the year that had hit the top 100 charts. "1959. I was 14...which made you 26." That last part was revealed with a sly smirk. Jet couldn't help poking at the age gap that really didn't matter these days, mostly for that exact reason.

He enjoys the song, listening to that rather than the grisly sounds as he finishes up the buck. He works quickly on purpose, trying to finish before Jet doesn't have singing to distract him. He nearly manages too, talking over the last bits of cleaning.

"Don't say that, I try to forget the difference." It's not honest irritation. The age difference has been a joke between them now for so long; after all, when they'd first gotten together, Jet was actually in his 50's and Albert just entering his 70's and by that point age is sort of covered under a moot umbrella of 'old'. It's really just a running joke.

"I don't think you'd have liked me then, anyway." Or maybe he'd have liked Albert better. He was happier, generally. Still more serious than not but there was less to worry about and he can barely remember what it felt like to be so unfettered, though at the time his financial situation had seemed a terrible burden when his dream had been to make it to a university in the West. And then he'd met Hilda and his plans had changed and...

Well, that's life, isn't it?

"I doubt I'd have liked you either, cocky little bird that you were." Which is an opinion based on what little Jet has told him about his time with his gang. And he uses the word 'bird' on purpose, knowing that in their time in Europe it refers to a woman but Jet always struck him as almost literally avian, hence his ascribed petname of 'sparrow'.

Jet scoffed, rolling his eyes to himself. "Probly not. If you'd called me 'bird' back then, I probably woulda socked you one. That and anyone over the age of twenty-five was ancient, so I probably would've just given you a bigger headache than I already do."

That sly smirk went a little wider and he readjusted the blanket around him to maximize the amount of warmth he was getting.

"Probably would've checked you out, though, before chasing you off and posturing like the punk I was." It would have been on the sly and Albert probably wouldn't have even noticed since that 'Wasn't Done' but there wouldn't have been any harm in it. Besides, he could just imagine how much more attractive Albert had been when he was younger. Just thinking about it made him wish they were back in the Capitol and not stuck up in a tree in the middle of a storm in the arena.

"What? No. I actually do look the age I was you know." Older, really. Or at least that's what he thinks with his prematurely white hair and the lines near his eyes. It never bothered him, not even going gray in his teens, but he didn't think of himself as conventionally - or even unconventionally - attractive by any means. The first he'd ever thought of it was Hilda calling him 'distinguished' which isn't a normal way to describe a 26 year old you've just had an argument about poetry with in a bookstore.

Albert finishes off the buck, starting to lay out the meat for all the good it will do. It's virtually impossible to make jerky outside in this climate when they don't have supplies to even make a rudimentary smoker, but with how cold it is the meat will probably keep for some time, and they do have a fire so he lays out a couple steaks too, bright red and ready to be cooked. At least they'll eat well tonight.

"It might be strange to wish for, but if a sponsor sent us some cracked pepper or paprika this Arena might almost be enjoyable."

"So? What, you think you're the only guy older than me to catch my eye? It's called having a preference." There'd never been anyone who'd caught his eyes like Albert did, though. Not that Albert knew that, but there had been guys Jet had checked out here and there. He'd just never once thought of pursuing anything, not unless he wanted to get thrown in jail or beat to death in some back ally.

With Albert's work finally finished and their dinner laid out waiting to be cooked, Jet's thoughts wandered from one kind of appetite to another and his stomach threw in it's two cents on the matter in a loud grumble. "Yeah, a little weird but I get what you're saying. Guess we never did go out for that fancy steak dinner, huh? When we get out of here, lets do that."

"I don't know, I think I prefer your cooking," there's a genuine smile somewhere in that smirk, though it's hard to tell with Albert moving around to stoke the fire and prepare the steaks. It takes a beat but he laughs and looks at Jet with fond teasing. "Those are words I never thought I'd say."

They weren't words Jet had ever expected to hear and his face colored a bit.

"Shut it. You're delusional from hunger, so get to cooking those things, will you?"

"It's a compliment, hush," he teases, settling back to put the steaks across the makeshift spit they'd fashioned by propping two sticks on each side of the fire to support a horizontal one in between. Albert skewers the first steak and sets it over the flames to cook, turning it every so often so the edges don't burn.

"I don't know how Chang did it though, making the same Chinese dishes out in the wilderness as in the kitchen sometimes. There are days when I wish I'd asked him for more rigorous lessons."

The storm had let up for a little bit towards the morning and had seemed to finally stop just about the time Jet had decided he might actually be warm again.

He stayed wrapped up in the blanket while his clothes dried out and lay on Albert whenever he was able (the German still had things he felt the need to do here and there and Jet couldn't blame him for that) it was one of those weirdly peaceful days that happened at least once an arena. If he closed his eyes and listened to the dripping sounds accompanied by the crackle of their fire, he could almost imagine they were camping and not in another death arena. He ended up dozing because of it off and on all day.

When his clothes were finally dry enough to put on, Jet climbed out of his cocoon to do so...just in time for the thunder to start up again, this time with bright flashes of lightning that were missing before.

"You've got to be kidding."

Edited 2015-02-14 20:23 (UTC)

"There's no rain this time." Albert's been awake for at least an hour, watching the forest light up every so often from the lightning and counting the seconds between that and the thunder to see how far off the storm is. There's barely a count of three between them now.

"Did you sleep alright? You were dozing when I got back, I didn't want to wake you."

"Good."

He pulled on his shirt and pants before inspecting his coat and boots to make sure they were dry enough. "Pretty good for an arena, probably better than I had any right to." Deemed dry enough Jet started putting on his final layers as he glanced over at his husband.

"I noticed you left for a while. Where'd you go?" It was said with curiosity more than anything else, clearly it'd been fine since Albert looked the same as he had when Jet had gone to sleep.

"Fishing, I ran into Bucky and we explored a bit. The fishing was fruitless," Albert's never been much of a fisherman, honestly. That was always more Pyunma's talent.

"It's better that you got some sleep. We need to take that where we can get it in the Arena." Not that he takes his own advice, but it's too difficult to sleep in the tree. He still can't manage it at all without lashing himself to the trunk and with the thunder crashing the past hour he's amazed Jet didn't wake up.

Maybe he'd caught a cold or something, or maybe he was just that tired, cause after waking up from Albert leaving, Jet couldn't remember waking up once until just now. It was strange and he idly wondered if that's what it felt like to not be a light sleeper, he'd been one for so long, it wouldn't surprise him that he'd forgotten.

"That's all right. I've got a couple traps set up near the river, I'll check them tomorrow. Besides, we're not really hurting for food." More was never a bad thing, but they were actually set up pretty well right now. Speaking of sleep...when's the last time you had any? You're not looking too pretty, Al." He knew his husband had trouble sleeping, but he doubted Albert had even bothered trying all that hard recently.

"Come now, at least I've shaved. Is that not pretty enough?" He smirks at his own joke, but he knows Jet is right. He hasn't gotten a good amount of restful sleep since the Arena started. He's not certain he would even on the ground. Maybe with Jet guarding his rest he could, but so long as they're stationed in this tree he doesn't hold out much hope for a decent amount of REM sleep even with Jet awake and on guard.

Still avoiding the question, he moves to their food stores and takes a bit of the cooked meat to munch on cold. Or at least, that's his intention. The loud crash of lightning from right over their heads makes him fumble what he'd grabbed and drop it between the slats of the wooden platform they'd constructed. "Damnit."

"Holy--" Jet winced at the crash himself but then moved to the entrance to peek outside. The clouds flashed and danced with light, a quick cacophonous roar and boom falling fast on their heels. He's about to make a comment when a bright eye-searing flash strikes down less than half a mile from them, the crash that followed the loudest one of all. Jet's hand came up to shield his eyes, but he still had spots in them by the time he tried to look up and see the damage.

What he saw was a red-orange glow and the tell-tale cracking sound wood burning. The lightning had set one of the trees on fire.

"Shit."

Fire starts crackling and Albert doesn't waste time watching it, instead hurriedly gathering their things and shoving them haphazardly into one of the sleeping bags. Knowing the Gamemakers it will spread with unnatural voracity, trying to catch any Tributes who'd made camp in the woods. Like them. So they'd best hurry.

"Get the food." He'll carry everything else, blanket, tools, and whatever cold weather clothing they're not actually wearing at the moment, and missing nothing as he packs quickly, done in roughly a minute.

Jet moves fast, gathering the food and whatever else he needs to before tearing down the other sleeping bag and using it to wrap up the load so he could carry it easily.

"Start going down, I'm right behind you." His tone wasn't one for argument. He needed a second longer to grab some of the 'rope' tying the tree house together to tie up the bundle so it didn't fall apart as he went down and he was still more nimble than his partner, even with them both having metal limbs.

"We gotta get to the river." It was the only safe place he could think of if the fire was going to spread as far and as fast as it likely was. The wood should be too wet for a forest fire, but this was a designed fire, it probably was a lot more dangerous than a normal one.

After their treehouse had fallen prey to the flames caused by the lightning strike, they'd had to find new shelter, this time across the river in a small cave tucked away behind some large rocks. It wasn't much, but it was perfect for a couple people hiding out trying desperately to stay warm and dry.

They had the advantage of not needing to worry about their limbs freezing and that made it easier, but their bodies were still flesh and blood and with the temperature steadily dropping, it was getting harder and harder to keep their temperatures up. The fact the metal chilled so much that it bit into the skin it connected with didn't help, nor did the blanket of snow that had built up outside.

What did help were the blankets, parkas and sleeping bags given to them by sponsors and if they zipped the two bags together, they could even comfortably share body heat if need be, although Jet hadn't suggested it yet himself because it'd still put them in a vulnerable position. Although, the fact they had to stay in the cave with it's relatively unprotected opening made them vulnerable enough. At least they'd set up a couple snares and traps right outside and inside the cave for any unwanted visitors.

The first thing Albert had done when they made it to he caves had been setting up a fire. Lighting it had been the easy part, their sponsors had been generous with fire starting kits, but finding dry fuel to keep the fire going was more difficult and he almost was ready to sacrifice a parka sleeve to the campfire when Jet hauled in a bundle of sticks.

The second thing he'd done was sleep, trusting Jet to keep them safe. He hadn't had a good night's rest in over a week and with the flight from the forest and fording the freezing river, Albert's certain he's the most exhausted he's ever been in his life, and that's saying something. It didn't even occur to him to check the cave for any other occupants before nodding off.

After those first two actions, Albert feels a little more human again. And warm, thank goodness. Jet's been a godsend, having found more acceptable firewood and even setting traps outside and securing the cave within. The German sits there, chewing some of their leftover meat strips and watching Jet mill around the mouth of the cave making sure none of their snares had been disturbed, and he's filled with a sense of displaced peacefulness and warmth. They may be holed up for their lives in a dank cave surrounded by a hostile environment and even more hostile competition, but all Albert wants to do with now is snuggle his husband by the fire.

He let's Jet finish what he's doing though, instead just watching him thoughtfully with a small smile on his face.

Jet noticed Albert waking up and had greeted it with the flash of a smile before he went back to finishing his 'rounds.' Nothing of note yet and that was for the better. They had ways of defending themselves, but that didn't mean he was looking forward to that possibility.

He looked out the mouth of their cave, noting the color of the sky, before heading back to sit next to his partner. "Looks like it might rain again. Or worse, who knows with this place."

He glanced over and finally noticed Albert's little smile and the affection in his face. "What? What's that look for?" It was making his chest flutter and his face feel warm for reasons that had nothing to do with the fire.

"You," his smile grows a bit broader. It's interesting what you can get used to, given enough time, and with a year in and out of these Arenas Albert's decided that for most things he can just ignore the fact that they have an unseen audience. "I'm impressed with you, first with the tree base and then managing to set up this camp in such a short time with little help."

He had been very little help, after all, fed up as he is. Albert has to wonder if he's going soft with their extravagant lifestyle in the Tower. Well, not as extravagant as actual Capitolites to be sure, but he feels he's fallen victim to some of the amenities. Hot showers with foaming bubbles that smell like ambrosia, soft beds with softer pillows and always clean sheets, being able to shave with an actual razor and not a hunting knife.

Jet on the other hand seems to be fairing much better and Albert thanks whoever may be listening once again for his husband being in his life. That they can take care of each other when it's needed. "Come here, Sparrow. You must be cold."

Bastard. He knew Jet didn't know what to do or say when he said stupid affectionate crap like that. What was worse, Jet legitimately wasn't getting where it was coming from, but he was afraid to ask in case he got another answer like the first one. "...shut up."

As for that other part... he feels like he's nearly always cold ever since he got rained on. His clothes felt more frozen than dried and that could be part of it, or maybe he was just getting colder faster with no flesh and blood limbs to take the brunt first. So Jet moved closer so he could partially lean against the older man, a sleeved wrist coming up to brush against Albert's cheek in place of a hand.

"I'm glad you finally got some rest...I was worried." Worried enough that, had their treehouse not burned down, he had been thinking of staying on the ground for a few hours so Albert could get some proper sleep instead of wearing himself thin.

"I know. There was no help for it until now, though." He pulls Jet into an embrace, his arms likewise wrapped in his parka and the gloves protecting his husband from frigid fingers. "But now I feel quite rested."

If those same gloved hands sneaking under Jet's own parka are any indication, rested doesn't even begin to describe the mood Albert is in.

Being pulled in close like that leaves a happy little smile on Jet's face and he very nearly settles into it like Albert has turned into one of their blankets.

But then he can feel hands sneaking under his coat and for one second, it doesn't bother him in the slightest. Then he remembers the cameras. His posture turns a little more rigid as he turns his head to look at Albert behind him.

"What're you doing? There's probably a camera in this cave, you know."

"Probably," he nuzzles into Jet's neck, seemingly unperturbed at the existence of the cameras. It's entirely out of character for Albert even if he's still a bit groggy, but there's a sense to him that if this is going to be their lives for a month or more, and there are most likely cameras in their bedroom in the tower anyway, then why pretend at privacy at all?

"But it's been weeks." It's not a whine, Albert doesn't whine, but he does sound a little plaintive and he catches Jet's mouth with his before the blond can get another word out.

He should put his foot down firmly and not even let his (definitely whining) husband kiss him, let alone get as handsy as he was but..well..he's only human and the feeling of Albert's lips on his is comfortable and warm and completely wanted, leading him to kissing back instead of doing what he should be doing. His body even turns traitor as he turns in Albert's hold just enough to wind his arms behind his partner's neck and pull him closer.

It has been a while...but the camera he knows must be in there somewhere is like a physical presence to him and finally makes him pull away and break the kiss he wanted to continue.

"I wish we could but...even if there's cameras in our room too, I don't know they're there, I don't know that what we do will be the six o' clock special." His eyes found Albert's lips instead of those intense white eyes, but he was proud of himself for keeping the color off his face this time. "What we do...I don't want it to be some show special, I don't want it to be broadcast. It's...just for us. Does that make sense?"

That reasoning sobers Albert up. He nuzzles into the back of Jet's neck again but this time it's not a drive to be amorous, it's to hide the flush that spreads over his face.

He hadn't been thinking. He'd been overwhelmed in his feelings for Jet, in wanting to be close when they hadn't in nearly a month. Or over a month? He'd lost track and that was a problem in more than one sense. But Jet... Jet who was more often the impulsive one, the careless one, the one to have less inhibitions and generally more drive did that... that thing he does. That frustrating, infuriating, wonderful and sensitive thing that catches Albert off guard and reminds him of exactly why he'd fallen in love with the man in the first place.

"Yes," Albert whispers into Jet's collar. If he sounds choked up, it's got to be a trick of the cave's acoustics. "Yes, that makes sense."

That wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting, the sudden show of emotion catches Jet off guard. He moved so his hands came up to cradle Albert's head, his confusion coming across bright in the form of amusement.

"Hey now...what's with that tone, huh? You turnin' sappy on me, Heinrich?" The last part was quieter, a note to it born from Jet's awareness at how hypocritical it was. Jet had just been saying how them being together was private and special and Albert was the sap? Yeah.

"Shut up."

There's no bite to the order, the emotions underlaying it still the same as before. Albert turns his head and kisses Jet's gloved palm, closing his eyes and savoring the closeness they have now. It's more satisfying anyway, at least in this moment when his attention is taken not by his physical needs but the emotional ones, the ones that keep him where he is, wholly contented to stay tangled in the arms of his husband for the foreseeable future.

So maybe they're both saps.

[Closed] And if I close my eyes

Week one - And the rain came down

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Week one - You start the fire burning

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Week two into three - Baby it's cold outside

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