AU week

[runningred]

{from here}

Jay's room hasn't changed much. Even if it is a little tidier than usual. Blame it on the fact he hasn't been around much lately. Workbenches, gear lockers, couches, TV, bed. The bar has kindly added a private gym with some serious equipment in a room off to one side.

He reaches under a bench and clears out a couple of cardboard boxes for Rocky to play in. He finds a small greenish ovaloid hiding under one. "I thought you lot had grown out of camping in here?" He blows on the thing and it lights up, glittering like a giggle in lights. "Make yourself useful and keep an eye on the cat please? His name is Rocky."

The thing squeaks a sound almost like Rocky and buzzes over to investigate the cat.

Jay chuckles and unpacks the picnic, looking for his corkscrew. "That's a Hive Drone. In fact, that's one of the juveniles - George. He'll keep Rocky company." He gestures to the couch, "Make yourself at home."

Comments

[i_am_your_host]

"Why thank you, darling," he coos at the drone with a grin. "And definitely no contest with Rocky."

Rocky bats softly at George with a velvety paw, sniffing at him and brushing his whiskers against him.

"But how did you even know what he said?" he asks Jay with amused incredulity.

[runningred]

Jay tilts his head to show a tiny green flashing light just inside the hollow of his ear, seemingly just under his skin. "Translator. It works for the females and the kids but not so well for the adult males."

George vibrates happily and bounces away from Rocky, daring him to give chase.

[i_am_your_host]

"Ah, very clever," he says, as Rocky hops off his lap to chase after George. With his hands free Emcee can resume enjoying his wine and some cheese.

"I'm guessing the adult males communicate on a different frequency or something like that?"

[runningred]

Jay shakes his head, refreshing their glasses. "They think differently. Less linear than the reasoning females. Less capable of slowing themselves down for humans. Lock and I communicate clearer but that's because he's a mechanic so we share a common language there but the rest of the boys I struggle to get finer details with. The kids have grown up around humans so they think much more like we do."

[i_am_your_host]

"Typical men, then," he snorts with a chuckle.

"Well, they're lucky to have an ally like you who's willing to learn and work with them. And help raise their children, apparently."

[runningred]

Jay chuckles too and leans over to press comfortably against him. "Would you believe Gav and I are helping them father the next batch of babies?"

[i_am_your_host]

"Oh, dear," he half-laughs. "Do I want to know?"

[runningred]

"They donate parts, to make the next generation. Always in batched of threes - one female and two males. It takes nine adults for each new drone and unfortunately they're a few short." He hesitates a little. "There weren't enough survivors. We were able to find ways to double up a bit but Gav and I donated parts too - the screw out of my shoulder and the bullet that killed Gav. They also extracted iron from blood we gave to cast into parts."

Jay smiles, watching George and Rocky play. "It sounds weird but it was really moving to be part of their future."

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee is quiet for a moment, also watching the two at play.

"That is-- quite amazing," he says in a low but thoroughly impressed and astonished voice. "It really is."

survivors

He doesn't need to know exactly what they survived, only that they did.

[runningred]

Jay wraps an arm around him, encouraging Emcee to lean back against him. "One of the wonders of the bar, I guess. Like getting to see you."

[i_am_your_host]

"It certainly is," Emcee hums in agreement, turning to kiss Jay on the lips before resting his head on his shoulder.

After a moment, during which he idly runs his fingertips back and forth along Jay's forearm, he then says quietly,

"You must have a lot of questions."

[runningred]

He nuzzles Emcee's hair softly, pressing kisses to his temple. "Only if you want to talk, love. You know I won't ask otherwise." He stokes a hand down Emcee's arm, fingers grazing above the tattoo. "I can take a pretty fair guess." And worse memory of living nightmares.

[i_am_your_host]

His gaze flicks down to the numbers on his arm.

"I can talk," he then says after a while. "I don't hide it. I mean, look at me, I hate wearing sleeves, so I'm not about to cover up now. It makes some people uncomfortable, others have no idea what it means. But anyone can ask. And they should, if they want to. I have no reasons to hide anymore."

[runningred]

Jay cups Emcee's cheek and kisses him slowly. "That's one of the things I love about you."

"How did you get out?" He'd like to hear all of it but he's too afraid. Both of stirring up Emcee's memories and his own.

[i_am_your_host]

He hums a sigh into the kiss and smiles faintly against Jay's lips.

"Oh, what a coincidence, that's my favorite part," he says, light and flippant, as is his way, but there is no escaping the underlying darkness.

"It was the spring of 1945. I had been in the camp for--"

His breath catches, and he sighs. Some things just trip him up if he dwells too long on it.

"--for three years. By then I was starved and sick and could barely get out of my bunk anymore. So there I was, just lying there, crammed in with several other wretched souls, when one morning at dawn-- I remember it was dawn, I saw the pink sunlight through a crack in the wall-- gunshots rang out. Of course, I'd heard gunshots before. But not repeated gunfire like this, and not with yelling and shouting.

"Some of the more able-bodied men got up and went to the door to see what was going on. And then they started saying-- and I will never forget this-- 'The Americans, it's the Americans!'"

He presses a hand to his lips as tears come to his eyes.

[runningred]

Jay holds him protectively, pressing a kiss to his hair. "They got you out before-"

He cuts himself off. Before the gas chambers. Before it was too late.

[i_am_your_host]

He nods.

"They got me out."

Anything after that would be certain death, no matter how it came.

He takes a deep breath.

"I tried to get up, but I couldn't. I just couldn't. Many of us couldn't, and suddenly I felt really angry about that. On the brink of hope, yet this close to just keeling over and dying? No, no, not today, not today of all days.

"After a while, the gunfire stopped. Those who could leave the barracks did so. And they managed to attract the attention of some soldiers. When they came inside, I swear-- I swear I saw God. Or angels. Or some other fucking divine thing, I don't know. But it pained me to see the look of horror on their faces when they saw us. You know, I felt sorry for them.

"Eventually, they helped get us all out into the open. Some still couldn't look us in the eye, but there was this one fellow-- he was kind of short and stocky, had reddish hair, blue eyes, and freckles. He was sort of directing the whole operation in that section. He found me in my bunk and asked if I could walk, and I said, 'No, but I wouldn't mind if you carried me.' And he laughed one of those big, hearty, healthy laughs, and he picked me up like a little bag of toothpicks and carried me out into the daylight.

"'What's your name, soldier?' I asked him as he put me on a stretcher. He said, 'Corporal Rick O'Malley, but you can call me Rocky.'"

[runningred]

Jay nods, taking Emcee's hands in his and kissing them. "Rocky. That explains it."

He holds Emcee close. "Were they able to get you medical aid?"

[i_am_your_host]

He smiles faintly, watching the cat crawl into an overturned box and settle down for a nap.

"Yes. I was taken to a Red Cross station somewhere near the German border. There were some conflicting orders-- some soldiers wanted to evacuate us, but other officials said we had to be detained until-- until what, I don't know. Finally they decided they would risk it and save as many of the worst cases as they could fit on their trucks. Since I spoke English, Rocky figured I could also be useful, so he made sure to put me on a truck out of there.

"I spent months recuperating. And even though I should have been sent on my way to who knows where, once I got well enough-- I asked to stay on a while at the Red Cross and help. I could be an interpreter, I could help with reading and writing different languages. We literally had nothing, and some of these people were hundreds of miles away from home, if home for them even still existed.

"So, I made friends among the doctors, nurses, and soldiers in the meantime. I saw Rocky only once more, purely by accident, really. He was passing through the station again for some reason, and we had a nice little bit of a reunion. He said to me, 'If you're ever in Chicago, look me up.' And I said, 'How would I ever even get to Chicago?' And then, he wrote some names down for me, and told me to keep them secret. Because, as I found later on when I called upon them, they would help me jump through all sorts of immigration loopholes, with a new identity and everything."

He chuckles. "Rocky from Chicago certainly knew how to pull some strings."

[runningred]

"Then I owe Rocky from Chicago a great debt of gratitude. For taking care of you when I couldn't." Thinking of the papers he provided the other version of Emcee. "His friends helped you find a place in New York?"

[i_am_your_host]

"He certainly went above and beyond the call of duty," he says with a soft but fond chuckle, and giving Jay's arm a squeeze, because he knows Jay would have done everything he could to save him as well.

"Well, the man who arranged my passage on a ship gave me the address of a hotel-- a flophouse, really, but beggars can't be choosers-- and the name of a landlord who I should ask for there. I must admit, it was all fairly shady, but let's face it, my entire journey hinged on such shadiness that I wasn't about to back out of it. I had to stay a few days at the flophouse until Mr. DeLuca found me a decent flat in Greenwich Village. He gave me a discount on the rent until I found a job, but luckily the neighborhood is full of bars, cafés, clubs, bookshops, art studios-- all I had to do was chat someone up and ask for a position."

A beat.

"I know how that sounded. I stand by my wording."

He can't help a smirk. He's really only half-joking.

[runningred]

Jay snorts playfully and smirks back. "Yeah, I best. I'm sure there were plenty of people willing to offer you the sort of positions you wanted."

He turns serious and hugs Emcee close, kissing him again. "I'm glad. Glader than you know. I'm sorry you had to suffer that but I'm so very glad you found your way."

[i_am_your_host]

"They were impressed with my skills and assets," he says with a grin, before melting into Jay's embrace and kiss. For a moment he just lets his words sink in -- it does his soul good to hear him say so.

"I was lucky," he murmurs again, "but I am grateful for that luck. And people like you. Because you knew me then. You remember who I was. I'll count on you to never forget that, just in case I do."

[runningred]

Jay nods and kisses him again. "If you ever feel yourself forgetting, just ask. I'll remind you of the night we met, and didn't exchange names till we were both sated and sweaty. Or the night we danced at the Ritz in perfect tuxes and turned the heads of everyone in the place. Or all the many, many times we snuck out with a bottle of gin to see how close to breaking the rules we could get away with."

"Fearless." He punctuates with kisses, "Wild." Kiss. "Sensual." Kiss. "And kinky as hell."

[i_am_your_host]

Those are all good memories, the kind he reflected upon throughout the years, and wondered how they ever came to be. Those days are like distant dreams to him. Not quite faded, not quite overshadowed. But sometimes they feel as if they'd been lived by someone else.

Jay's kisses still make him flush warm, and he savors each one. But at the end he smiles faintly and shakes his head.

"To be honest, I don't think I'm as much of any of those things anymore."

A pause as he reconsiders.

"Sensual and kinky, still, perhaps," he then says, self-deprecatingly.