Ch 3- Picking up Glass
WARNING: Yaoi!
Pairing: JetxZuko
Summary: Jet and Zuko become closer and Jet becomes healthier.
"I'm glad you're doing better," Iroh said as he walked into his nephew's room with food for their guest. Jet was sitting on the bed, re-wrapping some bandages. Zuko, like usual, was out on the balcony, listening. He had grown quieter as of late.
Jet stood up, walking into the bathroom. "Yeah," he said, washing his face with cold water, small tendrils of hair around his face getting splashed as well.
"I still think you should take it easy. The more you do, the slower you will heal," Iroh said though he knew that his words would go in one ear and out the other for the boy. If Zuko was hurt, that wouldn't keep him from getting out and about. Jet reminded Iroh so much of his nephew, it was a little scary sometimes.
"I know. But I've been in bed a few weeks now. I think some fresh air would be good!" Jet said, pulling his shirt on as well as shoes. He gave the old man his trademark fox-smile as he sat back down on Zuko's bed, which he had basically claimed for himself.
Iroh gave a laugh, walking out of the room. He met Zuko in the kitchen, who had snuck through the room while Jet was washing his face. "He seems to be doing better," Zuko said softly, crossing his arms.
"But he won't shut up! Whenever you're gone he comes to me and just talks and talks!" Iroh laughed, not really complaining. He enjoyed the company of someone who had stories to tell, unlike his nephew who always liked to act so sour.
"That's good, Uncle. He could tell us useful news of the Avatar!" Zuko said, making sure to keep their voice hushed so that Jet would not be able to hear.
"Yes, that is true. I don't like the idea of using this boy though. We both know he is the type to start a vendetta, nephew. Do you really want someone around wanting your head?" Iroh asked, grabbing some spark rocks to heat his tea.
"I don't think he would be a threat, Uncle. Anyways, he trusts me, no big deal," Zuko said, standing up from where he'd sat on the railing of one of the windows, looking out. "I do wish I could have my bed back, though," he growled between his teeth, walking back into his bedroom.
Jet was polishing his swords. He looked up at Zuko with a small smile. "I promised I'd teach you how to use hookswords. Today is the day to learn, Lee," he said with a nod, chewing on a piece of grass. Zuko didn't know where the hell he got the grass. They were in the middle of a city, for Pete's sake!
It was hot. The sun caused a few small droplets of sweat to roll down the boy's faces as they sparred. Jet with his hookswords, Zuko with his broadswords. Jet was trying to show Zuko a technique he'd perfected. Swinging one sword around on the hook of another. It could be deadly, and it kept enemies at a distance. Zuko did his best to defend against this, and he was getting good at it.
Jet stopped, holding the swords out to Zuko for him to try. Before taking them, Zuko took his over-shirt off. It was too hot to be sword fighting in the sun with so many layers on. Jet had already gotten rid of his shirt, leaving one shoulder-piece. He seemed eager to show off, and the lean muscles on his arms and stomach were those of someone who'd gotten them the hard way.
Jet picked up Zuko's broadswords and Zuko took the hookswords. In no time he had the hang of it, and was twirling around, the sound of metal hitting sparking against the ground growing more and more familiar.
"Okay, okay, Lee. Before you break them," he said, exchanging swords back with Zuko. Acting like he was giving up with the play fighting, Jet started to walk away, but quickly turning, catching Zuko's ankle with one hookswords as if to trip him. Zuko stumbled straight into Jet, who stood his ground. That was not what he'd expected to happen. Jet looked down at Zuko who was barely an inch away, quickly regaining his balance. Both were quiet for a moment. Jet seemed lost in thought, his gaze penetrating Zuko's golden eyes. But Zuko thought they were still sparring, and whipped his sword around, catching Jet unaware.
The blade grazed his stomach, and Jet let out a small cry, stumbling backwards, cursing himself for letting it happen.
"Sorry," Zuko said, going to sheathe his swords. Jet gave him a dirty look, taking up his own and charging.
Iroh went to the window, hearing shouts. He hoped he would not find the boys locked in a real fight. At first he thought they were. Swords slashing violently against each other. But when he caught sight of Zuko's face, he was surprised to see a smile. One of Zuko's swords was hit from his hand, and then both of Jet's were dropped. Jet was desperate enough to tackle the firebender, and Zuko dropped his remaining sword. They were both laughing, wrestling around on the ground, neither one seriously injured.
Jet claimed himself the victor as Zuko ended up front-down on the ground and the tanned boy sat on the prince's butt. "You give up?" he laughed.
"Never!" Zuko shouted, using all of his strength to throw Jet off, keeping his hands to the ground, lying on top of him.
Iroh smiled, shaking his head as he walked away from the window. Boys will be boys.
It was safe to say the two were friends. There was slight confusing in both of their eyes as Zuko held Jet down. "It's not what it looks like," Zuko said, blushing as he stood up quickly.
"Really? Because it looked like we were fighting and you just beat me. But since it wasn't what it looked like, I guess you really were trying to seducing me," Jet said, his voice nothing but playful.
"Shut up!" Zuko yelled, pointing a finger at Jet who was still on the ground. "I'm not… like that!" he said, grabbing his shirt and storming into his room. It was something the society seemed to make everyone paranoid about.
Jet stood up, muttering, "Me neither…" Even though the entire time had actually started to turn him on. Was it horrible for a teenager to be unsure about himself?
Jet pulled his shirt on, walking back into the apartment. Zuko was nowhere to be found, so he just washed the small cut on his stomach, scolding himself for not thinking about what he was saying. It would be his demise.
Zuko had taken off into a back alley of the city. He cursed out loud. "Stupid, stupid!" he said, stopping his fast walking to lean against a brick wall. "I'm not gay," he said quietly to himself. "I'm not!" he actually shouted, trying to repress the memory. He could still feel it. The feeling of bare flesh against his. It felt beautiful. Somebody close. It was a change. A beautiful change.
OOC: I'd forgotten how sappy I'd made this story… Oh well, eat it up!
