Chapter 4
The heavy weight of Jet's arm had settled across his shoulders and Zuko considered shrugging him off. Especially since the old woman knitting socks on the seat across from them gave them rather curious, indulgent glances. She was also chatting amicably with Jet. Zuko felt a pang of jealousy; not for Jet paying her attention, but for the effortless grace he managed to charm everyone he met. In the end he gave up on moving Jet's arm, mainly because Jet was warm.
Zuko wondered if this godforsaken city even had something resembling summer. He was wearing double layers and still the cold seemed to creep in and settle, never really leaving him. He hadn't realized how much he'd been relying on his firebending to stay warm before coming to the city, but right now the risk was too high. He was still mentally kicking himself for nearly giving himself away in the cargo wagon. What had he been thinking, even considering firebending a lock? Uncle was right. The moment they were discovered they'd have to face an angry lynch mob in the street, or worse, deportation to the Fire Nation and they were even less kind to traitors.
Traitor. That word still tasted like ash in his mouth, leaving him tense with impotent anger.
The train rattled past the main Middle Ring station and Zuko swore he could see his breath in the air. He snuggled deeper into Jet's embrace, convincing himself it was for warmth only.
At least he finally understood what it was Jet wanted from him, though it still kind of puzzled him why it was him he wanted it from.
Zuko had lived three years on a military ship, with port visits short and far between; he knew what his men got up to in their bunks, be it from homesickness, boredom or lack of female companionship. He himself had never partaken, his station and age made that impossible, but he was no fool and the desires of men were no mystery to him.
The train stopped and the sudden light and noise spilling in from the station briefly snapped him back to the present, and he managed to make an appropriate admiring sound as Mrs Ni showed them the portrait of her three year old granddaughter. The train moved on into the night and so did his thoughts.
Earlier they'd followed the men, who had to be part of the Bei Fong clan, to a dark warehouse, climbed onto the roof and watched them unload crate after crate. Jet had wanted to go in right then and there through the tiny attic window but Zuko, afraid to be caught in a situation where firebending was his only means to escape, had insisted that it was too dangerous with the Bei Fongs still in the building and them being unarmed but for a dagger. He'd braced himself for the seemingly unavoidable argument, but to his surprise Jet had not thrown a fit over it, but had taken one look at Zuko, and nodded.
Zuko barely suppressed a yelp as Jet squeezed his shoulder, his fingers digging into the flesh. Zuko turned his attention toward them, catching the last of what the old woman had said. He dutifully reached out and took one of the proffered shiny, wrapped candies. He unwrapped it, popped it into his mouth and chewed, the sweet meaty flavor overwhelming his senses and he gagged.
He spit the candied beef-jerky into his hand, coughed and mumbled, his cheeks flaming. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude."
"Oh, don't worry, deary. Too spicy for you?" She gave him an indulgent look and started rummaging in her purse.
"Yes." Zuko lied between coughs, wishing he'd had something, anything, to get that taste out of his mouth.
He got up and threw the half eaten candy out of the window, wiping his hand on his trouser leg. He glared at Jet's barely suppressed laughter.
That laughter turned into full fledged giggles when the Mrs Ni patted Zuko on the cheek and gave a couple of milk candies 'to make it better' before she got off the train just before the Lower Ring.
"Stop mocking me!" Zuko snapped and got up again, resting his arms on the window ledge, glowering out into the night. It took all his willpower not to give into the firebending his temper preferred as an outlet for his frustration. Instead he gripped harder onto the ledge, grinding his teeth in frustration, taking long, deep calming breaths. He closed his eyes and felt the shifting of the train under his feet.
When he opened them again had passed the wall, the wall, descending into the Lower Ring and Zuko noticed the change from brightly lit houses to sprawling apartment blocks. The train stopped at a switch, waiting for the one going up-ring to pass. The houses right next to the track had been divided and subdivided countless times, leaving rooms no bigger than two adjacent bunk beds with a few precious inches in between. Tattered curtains did nothing to keep privacy but only advertised the abject rundown poverty of the area.
Zuko watched a family of four crouch awkwardly on the two lowest bunk beds, sharing a meager dinner. The parents looked tired but the children were worse. No one that young should have eyes that hollow. They seemed empty, even from the distance, as if all hope had been drained from long ago.
We did this to them, Zuko realized. He thought back to that girl on the plains with the burn on her leg and he felt a pinch of guilt for having taken their ostrich-horse.
"You're cute when you glower." Jet stepped up behind him and put his arms around Zuko and for the first time in his life Zuko acknowledged the war as something real, not just a background noise to his own hunt for the Avatar.
"Why's the Earthking letting this happen?"
A shiver ran down his spine and Jet pressed his lips to Zuko's neck.
"The Earthking? What do you want him for? He just sits in his palace all day and does, I don't know, … kingy stuff." Jet ran the tip of his tongue along the outer shell of Zuko's ear, making him squirm.
"It's wrong. That's not how it should be." It struck him, once again, how different this place was from his home, how distant the Earthking was from his people, all cloistered away in that high-walled palace of his, never venturing out. Zuko turned in the embrace, looking straight at Jet. "A king should take care of his people."
"That's what we're here for, Li." Jet ran his hand down Zuko's jaw, burying it in the short hair at Zuko's nape, and kissed him.
And Zuko made a decision. The Avatar might be out of his reach for now, but this city wasn't and as long as he was here, he could at least gain back what was left of his honor. He and Jet would make sure that those profiteering from the war paid for their crimes.
ooooo
..
"Uhm," Zuko said, running a nervous hand through his hair. They stood at the small alley that led to the public courtyard of his apartment block and he had no idea what was expected of him now. He fidgeted. This was about as bad as that time his crew had all chipped in at that godforsaken port town and gotten him a … lady of the night.
Zuko blushed at the memory and the months of barely hidden snickers he'd had to suffer for well … not doing anything. He fidgeted again and was about to back away into the alley when Jet solved the situation in typical Jet fashion. Zuko found himself backed against the wall, a hand under his tunic and Jet's mouth on his. Not that he minded.
Hands explored and between kisses Zuko tried to ignore what he knew they must look like. Half undressed and panting hard, rutting against each other where anyone could come by, anyone could see them. Like a sailor after long overdue shore leave and a cheap streetwalker; utterly undignified. But Jet's hand, hot against the hardness between his legs, made thought if not impossible, the least desirable of his current options and his whole world focused only on getting just a bit closer, kissing just a bit harder, riding that amazing, unprecedented wave of pleasure to the end.
Only when Jet fumbled with the fastenings of his trousers did Zuko pull back.
"Not here. Anyone can see." Zuko took hold of Jet's hand, pushing it away. Jet twined their fingers together and licked the hollow of Zuko's throat making him gasp.
"Didn't bother you a second ago." Jet's thigh rubbing up between Zuko's legs, slowing down his thoughts into a moan. Zuko had no idea how much time passed, the noises of the night city an ever constant hum in the background.
The breaking of glass and loud angry yelling startled them apart. Then a woman was screaming and another joined in. The sounds of domestic fighting echoed into the night, with more voices joining in. Lamps were lit and people gathered at windows, ready to catch whatever free entertainment the city would provide.
Zuko shook his head, his hands flat against Jet's chest, pushing him off of him. "We should stop."
"Afraid your uncle will see us?" Jet teased.
"Oh spirits, no!" Zuko exclaimed and cringed. He hadn't even thought of that mortifying possibility. He rolled his shoulders, wincing at the sore spot where he had leaned against the rough wall. "Besides, this is uncomfortable."
Jet sidled up behind him, offering a massage that turned into a caress and chuckled. "A real bed it is, my prince."
Jet's choice of words hit Zuko like a blow to the gut. This was going to be that little desert village all over again, who he was forgotten, drowned out by the past he had left behind. Zuko closed his eyes, hoping the darkness hid part of his reaction.
"I have to go," he ground out, turning towards the courtyard.
"Li?" Jet caught his hand, pulling him into a reluctant embrace, looking like he was going to say more, but didn't.
And Zuko let himself be pulled, not willing to give up what little comfort was to be had before Uncle and he were forced to move on again.
"I have to go, I have to work tomorrow," Zuko said but didn't make a move to pull away.
"Yeah, me too."
Zuko snorted. "Sure, you do."
"Hey, no fair." Jet pulled him in for anther kiss. "I help set up market stalls."
Zuko rolled his eyes but said nothing.
"I'm thinking about paying the Bei Fongs a visit. Need to talk to Smellerbee and Longshot first, but..." Jet had, from somewhere, produced a straw and was chewing at it in a thoughtful way. "Will you join us tomorrow night?"
"Yes." Zuko tried to place the weird butterfly feeling in his stomach at the brilliance of Jet's smile, not sure what to make of it all. So he turned away and started walking. When he looked back, just before entering the house, Jet was gone, the alley dark and deserted, but he could not shake the feeling of someone watching him.
Unable to shake that certain feeling of unease, Zuko climbed the stairs to their apartment two at a time, only feeling slightly better when he heard the definite click of the lock snapping in place.
The overwhelming smell of soy-sauce and honey filled the tiny place and Uncle was standing bent over the tiny stove, brushing a pungent liquid onto a golden-brown duck. He was humming "The Long Way to Ba Sing Se" under his breath, tapping his foot to keep the rhythm.
"What the spirits are you doing, Uncle?" Zuko gestured at the pots, mortar and cooking utensils strewn about.
"Ah, nephew. Did you have a good night?" Uncle put down the dripping brush and picked up a fan.
Zuko made a noncommittal sound, flopped down on his bed and folded his arms behind his head, watching Uncle dry the most recently applied layer of duck marinade with his fan. His mind drifted off to the events of the evening, trying to make sense of the whole mess. He startled when Uncle pulled the apartment's single stool up next to his bed, staring pointedly at his neck.
Zuko blushed and resisted the urge to cover whatever it was with his hand.
"Nephew," Uncle's expression was an odd mixture of pride and worry. "I think we should wait before we take on the wonderful, yet difficult task of caring for little ones, don't you agree?"
"You're not making any sense, uncle. What children are you talking about?" Zuko frowned. Why was it that even after all these years Uncle's ominous advice still didn't make the slightest bit of sense to him? Then he shuddered, unbidden images forming in his mind. With Uncle it paid to be sure. "You are talking about children, aren't you?"
"Nephew." Uncle patted Zuko on the arm. "I'm sure as you have noticed this is a big city full of…" He hesitated and Zuko cringed as Uncle winked and went on, "great opportunities."
"What's your point, Uncle?"
"You are a handsome young men, my nephew, and there is many a flower in this city ready to be picked."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Do we have to have the 'when mommy turtleduck loves daddy turtleduck' talk again?"
"WHAT? There is no mommy turtleduck, Uncle!" Zuko blushed to the root of his hair, all too vividly remembering that mortifying little talk. He jumped hurriedly from the bed and went over to the dresser to plash water at his burning face in a vain effort to hide his embarrassment. When he looked up in the small mirror above the basin, he groaned. Behind his left ear, just a bit below his scar, bloomed a rather purple telltale mark were Jet …
Zuko hung his head, and ground his teeth in frustration.
"I'm going to bed," he snapped at Uncle and started to change into his night clothes, trying to ignore Uncle's suddenly all too knowing grin.
ooooo
..
The next morning, Zuko tried to cover the telltale mark on his neck with a scarf and pretended to have a cold. He suffered Uncle snickering at him all the way to the teahouse. Pao himself was less than happy about Zuko's 'cold'. He kept wanting to take Zuko's temperature, worried that Zuko would contaminate the tea, infect the paying customers, want time off and worst of all, potentially give his cold to Uncle, costing Pao valuable business.
Uncle, to Zuko's growing annoyance, watched all this with thinly hidden mirth, right up until Pao started burning foul smelling incense to kill the vapors. That was when, Uncle put a friendly arm around Pao's shoulders and led him into the back room.
Zuko spent the rest of the morning pointedly pretending not to notice their snickering.
When Uncle and he went home for lunch, Mrs Chen was sitting on the bench under the sycamore tree, knitting a multi-colored scarf. Zuko greeted her with a nod and stepped into the stairwell, but Uncle stopped and started chatting with her. Zuko sniffed the air. Was that jasmine perfume? And oh, Spirits, why? Uncle puffed up his chest, leaning seductively against the tree. Zuko took a closer look at Mrs Chen, noticing that her hair was put up in a fancy way and that she was blushing and giggling at Uncle's jokes. Zuko turned and without wasting another second strode up to their apartment trying to burry the memory of Uncle and Mrs Chen making cow eyes at each other.
ooooo
..
When Uncle came in a bit later, Zuko turned to face the wall, feigning sleep.
The weather had warmed up a bit and the walk back to the teahouse was rather pleasant. The afternoon sun was low in the sky and there was not a cloud in sight. Zuko had forgone his scarf, preferring instead to scowl at anyone who so much as looked at his neck.
A block or two from the teahouse, Uncle stopped bought a slice of melon from a street vendor, while Zuko stood in the sunlight, trying to soak up as much warmth as he could.
"What a nice young lady." Uncle winked, shoving a slice of watermelon into Zuko's hands. "She said this is for you."
Zuko turned back to the stall and nodded a thank you to her, thinking her face vaguely familiar.
When they turned the corner to the teahouse, Pao was standing at the entrance, holding a fish bowl and talking deferentially to three strangers. Uncle took hold of Zuko's arm and pulled him into a doorway. They watched as Pao, fish bowl held awkwardly in his hands, kowtowed to the woman in expensive-looking silk robes. Her jade hair-piece was carved in the shape of a flying boar. It sparkled in the sun. She stepped into her waiting palanquin and was carried off down the street with people hastily making way for her. Zuko frowned, wondering what business Pao could possibly have with the Bei Fongs.
Pao did not say a word about what happened in the street, just placed the fish in a prominent position near the door, ordering Zuko to take care of them. Zuko tapped the glass, watching the tiny golden fish swim up to the surface expecting food. They were actually rather pretty.
After the teahouse closed, Zuko hurried home, telling Uncle that he was late meeting friends. Uncle had not seemed at all but surreptitiously asked Zuko when he planned to return, as he had invited Mrs Chen over for dinner.
Zuko ran up the stairs, to their apartment, bolting the door securely and drawing the curtains for whatever protection from wandering eyes they might provide. He then changed into the dark clothes he'd worn the night before, folding his work clothes neatly at the end of his bed. Zuko pushed his bed away from the wall, prying a floorboard up with his penknife, removing a cloth-wrapped bundle. Grabbing his dao he was out of the door again before Uncle had even entered their courtyard. He found a dark alley and strapped his dao across his back, then unwrapped the wooden mask, putting it on.
The Blue Spirit climbed up a drain pipe and disappeared into the dark.