A/N: Short little oneshot that popped up into my head when I saw that teeny, tiny scene where Jake's in a hurry to get back to his avatar, and Grace pulls his wheel chair towards her, and pushes him towards the table and makes him eat. The scene is only a few seconds long. Oh well, you gotta work with what you've got. THIS IS A REPOST – I decided to do a total overhaul to my account. Why didn't I just replace the current one before? Because I needed a fresh start.

Disclaimer: Whoever owns them owns them. I'm too lazy to look up who owns them. Gimme a break, it's almost 1 am.

Bon Appetit

"Bon appétit."

God, she's beautiful. Everything about her is: the way her voice caresses each syllable, the way her curled bob bounces when she walks, the perfect color of her hair, it's all just…intoxicating.

And wonderful.

That cigarette in her mouth makes all the whole better. Sure, if I kiss her, I'll also taste the smoke, but who cares? That mouth belongs to Grace Augustine, the most beautiful redhead I've ever set my eyes on.

I look at the creamy expanse of skin exposed on her neck. So smooth. So…porcelain. Covered with tiny freckles.

Looking down at meal, I see it's only in a Ziploc bag. Fun.

Stuffing my 'meal' into my mouth, and in a rush to get back to Neytiri, I look up again at Grace. Hah, that name doesn't suit her. She's more like…badass. But in a good girl sort of way.

I look once again at the expanse of skin exposed at her neck and travel downwards to look at the barely exposed valley between her breasts. I imagine myself hovering between her two mounds, nipping and –

"What the hell are you looking at?"

I look up at her innocently. "Just admiring the view," I smirk.

"Just admiring the view, huh?" She has a smirk on her face that makes my cheeks go red.

And of course, she has to lean forward on her arms and use the table for support, my face in line with her breasts.

She leans so far into my personal space that we're literally millimeters apart.

Then, of course, my desire decides to show up and make its presence known. Flustered, I try to hide it.

Grace notices. Of course she notices. And smirks. "You know, Corporal, I'm old enough to be your mother."

A hot mother, for that matter.

"But I see that doesn't stop you."

A silent agreement passes through us.

Still locked on to each other's eyes, I ask, "Where are all the others?"

"Got them up earlier than you. They're out there now." She briefly turns away from me to wave toward the window.

"And Trudy?"

"Ah, she's somewhere. Not here."

Another moment of silence.

"How will it work?" I wonder aloud.

"I don't give a fuck about how it'll work out. Just do it." And with that, she closes the tiny gap between us.

Role reversal. That's what it feels like right now, with her carrying me and my arms around her neck, traveling the short distance to a bed, anyone's bed. I could care less about whose bed we end up on.

She brings her lips to mine again, and the duel for dominance begins.

And with Grace simply being Grace, she wins.

No words, no hesitation, just a quick joining of a man and a woman with their respective needs.

As we lay here, a man and a woman having just done the deed, bodies intertwined, we stare at the ceiling. Neither one of us talks for fear of breaking the silence.

Grace is the one to break it. "Don't tell a soul."

"Got it."

"And Jake?"

"Yeah?"

"You did pretty good for a paralyzed moron." A smirk.

She gets up, pulls on my shirt – the closest thing to her – and walks away.

"Where are you going?"

She briefly turns to look at me. "We have work to do, Jake. That's the reason why we're here," she smirks.

"Well, do you mind?" I wave to my state of undress and disability.

"Oh. Right." And she helps me get dresses and in my wheelchair.

And we conquer the new day. Together, I don't know. But I sure as hell am thinking about her.