"Hey, man," he shook hands with Thompson, and eyed the limo with growing unease. "Couldn't he just send word where should I be?"
A few people were staring at them. Jake waved at them.
"It's good to have limo drivers as friends," he spoke to his neighbors, and the people just laughed.
He turned towards Thompson with a serious expression on his face.
"I ride in front," he said quickly.
"Of course," Thompson nodded politely.
"Let me put your backpack and suit bag in the trunk," Thompson offered.
"Ok, but please don't hold the door. People are already thinking I won the lottery or something."
He got into the car quickly.
"So, where are we headed? What airport? Is he there already?"
He must have sounded like a nervous broken chatterbox, but Thompson didn't seem to care.
"Mr. Metzger is waiting for you. I am not allowed, however, to say anything more."
Jake rolled his eyes.
"This man and his games," he shook his head.
"Jake," Thompson said, and he seemed hesitant, for a second. "May I ask you something?"
"Shoot," Jake shrugged.
"Whatever happened between you and my boss, was it so irreconcilable?"
Jake pondered for a while.
"I don't know. It was pretty bad."
"Mr. Metzger always means well," Thompson continued to speak. "Maybe it would not be a bad idea to listen to his side, too."
A few weeks before, Jake would have been annoyed with that kind of conversation. But Hans had said the same thing to him.
"Yeah," Jake admitted. "I should or something."
His resolve lasted up to the moment that he got out of the car and saw Klaus waiting, on the stairs of a fucking private jet.
Why did he have to look like that? Why wasn't he ugly, or bald, or fat? And why was he not somewhere, anywhere else, right now, fucking some actor or supermodel? Klaus looked straight at him, his hands in his pockets, measuring him up and down.
Jake drew one deep breath, and followed Thompson through the security gate and onto the tarmac. He turned to Thompson to thank him and climbed the stairs with his luggage.
"I'm still not talking to you," he shot at the man.
Klaus moved to the side to allow him entrance.
"As you wish," the man said, his voice rough and tired.
Jake took the seat indicated by the flight attendant. So the guy had a fucking jet, and the personnel to go with it. What the fuck was he doing with a guy like that? Jake thought he must have been out of his fucking mind, to think he had a real chance with Klaus fucking Metzger.
Thankfully, the engines of the jet started and Jake could ignore Klaus as he stared out the small window, trying to rein in his excitement. It was his first time getting on a plane, and it had to be on a frigging private jet, on top of everything. To ignore the small butterflies in his stomach was a bit too much, no matter how pissed he was at Klaus right now.
***
After reaching cruising altitude Klaus looked at Jake as the boy fiddled in his leather seat, like he could not get into a comfortable position. The brat looked good. Damn fine, if he was to think about it. He had so many things to ask. But Jake had been clear he was still not in the mood to talk. And he was way too proud to beg for it. At least, for now. Jake was going to stay at his house after the wedding party, and they had a few good days to finally have the conversation at least he had been looking for.
"Why are you staring so much?" Jake complained, shooting him a dark look.
"Am I not allowed? And I thought you were not talking to me."
Jake pouted. Klaus shifted his position. There was nothing he wanted more than to just reach across the cabin to the boy and kiss those pouty lips.
"Whatever," Jake shrugged.
"So, how have you been doing?" Klaus chose to be the one to speak, after all.
"Fine. No guns held to my head lately. I'd say that's pretty awesome," Jake looked across the aisle, straight at him, challenging him with his dark eyes.
"Ah, I see. We will talk about that. Not now, but soon."
"All right," Jake admitted.
That was surprising.
"So, you do want to talk, after all?" Klaus expressed his wonder.
"Yeah, I do. I need closure or something."
"Hans has been talking to you. Always one ready to play the head doctor," Klaus shook his head.
"He's right. But I agree with you. Let's just talk after the wedding. I don't want to drop going to the wedding, just because I'm going to fight with you over what you did."
"What I did?" Klaus quirked an eyebrow. "How about what you did? You were not supposed to be there. If you did not misbehave, we would not be having this conversation right now."
"Oh, yeah? So you were just going to have Diaz arrested?"
"With you, it is always about your brother. I cannot fathom what he has done in his life to warrant so much high esteem or loyalty on your part."
Jake frowned.
"This is just the crap that I thought would happen. Let's just not talk anymore. Or I'll just get off this plane."
"You do not simply get down from a plane, Jake."
The brat rolled his eyes.
"No shit, teach. I was just joking."
Klaus could feel his lips twitching, wanting to curl upward. It felt like he had not smiled in ages. His face hurt. It was good to see Jake's fire, shining brightly as always.
"You look good," he spoke again.
Jake's eyes flickered, but the boy chose to keep his features in a neutral demeanor.
"You, too," he said solemnly, after a few moments.
"I hope you will find the accommodations comfortable enough."
"As long as I don't have to sleep on the streets, there's no point to worry about stuff like that. I'm not like you, Mr. Money Bags."
"Blue suits you," Klaus chose to overlook the attitude for now. "It is just the same as the room you had."
Jake now seemed surprised.
"Wait, I'm going to sleep at your house? I am so going to kill Hans."
"Let's not be too murderous on the eve of such an important event. Consider killing him after the wedding. At least, he will die a happy man."
Jake giggled. Music to his ears. And it felt so good to see him again. Despite all the bad blood between them.
***
Jake wanted so much to hate the man. But it was impossible. One good look at him and he was ready to forget all about the thing with Diaz, and gang wars, and guns. But he was not a fool. He was not going to fall so easily. So he shut his eyes. Tightly, as tightly as he could.
"I need to sleep," he mumbled. "I've been working two shifts for the past weeks," he thought an explanation was in order.
"I see. Should I bring a blanket?"
"No, I'm good," Jake sank into his chair, stubbornly keeping his eyes closed.
"I distinctly remember you dislike being cold. You always wrapped yourself around me, just for that reason."
"Stop remembering that crap. That ... was not real."
At least that made the man shut up after all.
And he chose to pretend he was still asleep while careful hands draped him in a cozy blanket. It was probably just the flight attendant doing his job. And probably the guy had expensive tastes and used the same cologne as Klaus. He knew that smell.
***
It was strange that he could sleep like a log, seeing how excited he had been about the flight and seeing Klaus again - although he was not going to admit that, even to himself. However, he had not lied when he had told Klaus earlier that he was beaten.
The flight attendant gently nudged him awake, and, at first, he blinked and looked around in surprise.
"Please, wake up, sir. We have a light supper ready to eat," the young man said politely.
Only then Jake noticed the white cloth covered table set at the rear of the plane. And Klaus, waiting for him. He could pretend he wasn't hungry, but he could not exactly deny food. Just as a friendly reminder, his stomach grumbled like a miffed old man. So, albeit reluctantly, he got to his feet and walked to the table.
"How long have I slept?" he mumbled, trying to arrange a few rebellious strands of hair.
"A bit over two hours. Please," Klaus gestured to the nicely set up table.
The flight attendant efficiently placed a covered dish in front of him and lifted the lid with a bit of a too studied gesture. But any thoughts he might have had about the serving were gone from his mind, as soon as a nice and familiar smell tickled his nostrils.
"Wow! That's Agnes's beef stew!" he exclaimed.
Klaus was looking straight at him, with a small smile. It was not a smug smile, but a fond one. Jake coughed and looked away, to cover his childish outburst.