Chapter One
Jet,
I'll probably be on the plane by the time you read this. Thank God. Tokyo's been amazing but I don't think I've ever missed home so badly. Mai thinks I'm crazy, coming all the way here to take the pro test and then going right back to Ba Sing Se again. But I guess that's just how I am. A homebody. Besides, someone has to pump new life into the American Go Association, right? Guess I'm as good a candidate as anyone.
I still can't believe I passed, I mean...it takes some people years! Half the other players were just kids....I don't think any of them expected me to make it as far as I did. Hell, I didn't expect it. The only reason I even tried was because you and Uncle teamed up against me.
Thanks for that. You know...for kicking my ass. I guess it was your turn.
Thanks also for letting me crash with you while I look for a new place. Bee and Long, too. I'll try to stay out of everyone's hair.
See you soon,
Zuko
Zuko had never liked airports. He liked the long, glass walls next to every gate; liked to sit cross-legged on the plastic chairs with his back to the terminal, watching the fuel trucks and baggage handlers, counting the planes as they took off and landed. But he hated everything else. As a child, he'd resented being packed off to visit his grandparents--the flight attendants glancing at the little paper badge on his chest before calling him by his name, as if they knew him; Azula dreaming up ways to entertain herself in the seat next to him, most of which involved making him airsick or homesick or both.
As an adult--if he could even call himself that, barely twenty one and only shaving once a week--he hated the crush of strangers, the endless lines, angry women in ugly uniforms pawing through his suitcase and making him take off his shoes. He hated checking his bags and he hated waiting to pick them up again. And he especially hated customs. He knew that the sandwich in his carryon wasn't worth mentioning on the forms, but he always did anyway. The extra half-hour of harassment that this cost him was never enough to make him lie on official documents, and he hated that, too.
He'd texted Jet as soon as he landed, but that had been almost two hours ago. Zuko shifted his bags to free up a hand, fumbling for his phone. He should call, let them know not to sit around waiting for him. The way the outer-ring trains ran on the weekends, it'd be another couple hours before he made it to Jet's apartment.
"Hey, Zuko! Over here!"
Zuko looked up, stumbling a little as he shoved the phone back into his pocket. Jet was standing in the line of family members and limo drivers, holding a paper sign that read, "Zuko Xi: Professional Nerd."
Zuko laughed and jogged over, his oversized suitcase jerking crazily on the linoleum floor. "What are you doing here?"
"Picking you up, jerk," Jet chuckled. He looked different than Zuko remembered. Older. He'd cut his hair, spiked it instead of letting it fall in the old soft wisps around his face. The jeans and black tee shirt were the same as always, but the studded belt and ironic tweed sports jacket were new. He pulled Zuko into a one-armed hug, thumping him on the back, then slipped the duffel bag off Zuko's shoulder. "Here, lemme give you a hand with all this crap..."
"You don't have to--"
"You've got six months' worth of luggage and you pack like a grandma," said Jet, hefting the bag. "C'mon, Toph's waiting in the car out front."
Zuko grinned, flushing a little. "You guys really didn't have to come get me..."
"We know," said Jet loftily. "Which is why you're taking us out to dinner tonight."
"Fair enough."
Jet's car was a miracle of engineering, the miracle being that it actually worked. Zuko was fairly sure it had been green at one point, and beneath the rust and bumper stickers and patch-up paint jobs it probably still was, but these days it was hard to tell. Toph was reclining in the back, her bare feet up on the headrest of the passenger seat. When Jet popped the trunk she grinned and rolled down the hand-cranked window, leaning out.
"What took you girls so long?" she called. "I know you had to cry all over each other, but damn!"
"Ha ha," Zuko muttered, through secretly pleased she'd come along. He'd missed being heckled.
Jet pushed a cardboard box of National Gay and Lesbian Task Force pamphlets to one side, making room for the last of Zuko's bags.
"Jet, I can't believe you still have this car..."
"Why? We're old friends, my car and me." He patted the nearest car surface affectionately "Besides, I like the freedom. I can take off and go whenever I want." He slammed the trunk closed, half-sitting on the edge until the latch caught.
"I'm sure Bee would love that," said Zuko. He slid into the front seat, arms crossed over his laptop bag. The cellophane from a dozen packs of cigarettes crinkled underneath his feet.
"She does. Sometimes she comes with me. And we always get the rent paid on time," said Jet cheerfully. He coaxed the engine into turning over, an elaborate process involving the clutch, the ignition, the gas pedal and a string of half-mumbled curses.
"Where do you guys want to go for dinner?" asked Zuko. He would have turned to look back at Toph, but her feet were on either side of his head.
"Somewhere Japanese," she said, wiggling her toes. "I wanna hear your sexy ordering voice."
"That okay with you, Jet?"
"Hey, can't deny you a chance to show off," said Jet. He grinned sideways, shifting gears. "Anyplace in particular you have in mind?"
"Yeah," said Zuko. He poked the sole of Toph's left foot, and she kicked him in the ear. "OW! Christ .... anyway. Head for the upper ring, east side. I think I know someplace you'd like."
"Okay, champ, you win," said Toph. She burped heartily, flicking her toothpick toward the curb. "That was pretty sweet."
"My favorite part was the onion volcano," said Jet. "I thought he was gonna burn his eyebrows off."
Zuko laughed. "Yeah, I figured you'd get a kick out of that."
"I've been to hibachi places before, but that was way better," said Toph. "The fancy ones my parents like don't throw food at you."
"I still can't believe you actually caught that shit in your mouth!" said Jet.
"I have super powers," said Toph. "Crazy blind girl super powers."
"That or the chef just had really good aim," said Zuko.
Jet cuffed him on the back of the head. "Hey, now! Don't steal the lady's thunder!"
"Who you calling a lady, fancy pants?"
Zuko hung back, watching them scuffle playfully on the sidewalk. He'd never really admitted to himself how badly he'd missed his friends. How much he'd missed having friends to begin with. His stay in Tokyo had been interesting but lonely. Months of intense study had left him able to talk about go and order dinner, but he'd never quite managed fluency. Jokes were lost on him, and the rapid slang of the other players was impenetrable. Being Asian had made it even worse--no one bothered to practice their broken English on him, and once they discovered he was Chinese they ignored him entirely. The international politics of go, writ small for the sake of his personal misery.
He hadn't been away from Jet for this long since they'd met. His first semester at Ba Sing Se University had only been four months, and while Jet had managed to dodge him over Thanksgiving break, Zuko had finally pinned him down around New Years. Until then he'd written Jet every day, rambling on about the minutiae of his life at school. Sometimes Jet would ask for space, a week or two of respite from the steady stream of correspondence. Zuko would wait however long he'd been told to--that long exactly--and then pick up where he'd left off as if nothing had happened. He'd felt a little silly--Jet had plenty of friends, better friends than Zuko had ever been, which only made Zuko's devotion to him all the more ridiculous--but Zuko was used to looking like an idiot. He didn't care. He knew he wasn't Jet's best friend, especially after all that had happened between them. But Jet was his.
Not that their friendship hadn't been awkward for him sometimes, as well. Because it had. He hadn't spent the better part of two weeks in Jet's bed out of pity, nor had he ended their relationship due to a lack of enthusiasm. Their problems had been ones of timing, not chemistry, and though Zuko had never dared to admit as much--not even in his countless private LiveJournal posts--the breakup hadn't done much to stop the twinge in his stomach when Jet leaned over to muss up his hair.
Nothing had ever come of it, of course. He'd been in love with Mai for so long, was so hopelessly infatuated with her, that he'd never have dreamed of being unfaithful. But now, with three years and another breakup behind him, things were suddenly complicated again. Or were they uncomplicated? He wasn’t entirely sure.
Jet had doggedly kept up his end of their correspondence, but he'd never been one for writing the details. That, combined with his quirky sense of humor, meant that Zuko'd expected convenient gaps in the news from home. But nothing Jet had said prepared him for the kiss Toph and Bee shared the minute she opened the door of the apartment.
"They give you any trouble?" Bee asked, eying Zuko with not-quite-mock suspicion.
Toph smirked. "Nothing I couldn't handle."
"I made a pitcher of Bangarangs while you jokers were off having fun without me," said Bee. She slipped a hand into Toph's back pocket. "Bruce Lee and booze for the win, hey?"
"Tacos would make it perfect," said Jet, brushing by Zuko--he was still in the hall, stopped short by unexpected kissing--and carrying the duffel bag into his room.
"Tacos were over before you got here," said Bee, speaking loudly so Jet could hear her in the next room. "Long and I ate them before he headed out for work." She pulled a pitcher of orange liquid out of the fridge, then glanced over her shoulder. "It's rude to linger in doorways, Princess."
"Oh! Sorry..." Zuko lurched across the threshold, catching his suitcase on the molding. He kicked the door closed and wove his way across the living room. Jet had already blown up the tattered air mattress, and as Zuko dragged his luggage to the corner of the room, Jet rummaged around in the chaos of his closet.
Jet's sports jacket was already lying in a heap on the floor. "Just drop your shit wherever," he said, his voice muffled. "I've got clean sheets in here somewhere, I swear. Or mostly clean sheets."
"You don't have to worry about that now," said Zuko. "With this kind of jet lag, I won't sleep until tomorrow afternoon."
Jet straightened, his arms full of mismatched linens. They appeared only slightly wrinkled. "You say that now, but I know you. You'll be drooling on my shoulder by 2 AM, tops."
Zuko extracted a fitted sheet from the tangle and knelt to pull it on. "Yeah, well...I guess I'm doomed anyway if there's alcohol involved."
"So they didn't teach you how to drink in Japan?" Jet tucked in the far end of the bottom sheet, then shook the next one out.
Zuko caught it, pulling it smooth. "They taught me how to drink myself unconscious. But I'd pretty much figured that out on my own already." He stuffed a flattened pillow into its case, smiling. "You know, I never thought I'd end up here again."
"Where's that? Ba Sing Se?"
"Sleeping on your floor." Zuko glanced up at him. "We haven't done this since--"
Jet laughed. "That one summer, yeah. Crazy. It has been a while." He stood, then jumped lightly across the bed. "C'mon, the girls are waiting for us."
Bee had opted for "Fist of Fury," an old favorite that only cocktails could improve upon. They poured themselves neon glasses of Bangarang and piled onto the couch. Bee relented on her usual policy of seating herself between the boys, but a part of Zuko wished that she hadn't. Another part wished that she'd picked a movie he hadn't seen before. The familiarity allowed his mind to wander, and where it went his eyes followed.
The television cast a soft, blue glow that pooled on Jet's cheekbones, caught in his hair, shone from his eyes. Cool and flickering, like moonlight on water. Zuko felt the heat rise in his cheeks, remembering. Jet laughed at a line Zuko hadn't even heard and turned to look at him, words half-formed on his lips. Their gazes met, and when Zuko held his gaze, Jet's smile turned serious, arched brows drawing together in the beginnings of a frown. Embarrassed, Zuko turned away first and hunched further down in the cushions.
Finally, the credits rolled. As he'd predicted, Zuko didn't feel tired so much as undead, trapped between sleep and wakefulness by a 13-hour time difference. He'd slumped against Jet's shoulder an hour ago, but actual rest escaped him.
Bee stood and stretched, yawning catlike while Toph cracked her knuckles. "Okay, kids," she said. "Chaperones are going to bed. Behave yourselves."
"Don't do anything I would do," Toph instructed them.
"Doesn't that mean we can do everything?" Jet shot back.
It was Bee who answered. "Yes, but you shouldn't." She waved vaguely over her shoulder, her other arm around Toph's waist.
As the bedroom door closed behind them, Jet shifted on the couch, unfolding and flexing his legs. "You tired?"
"Not really," said Zuko. He wondered how long Jet would let him stay like this, his cheek against the cool fabric of Jet's shirt.
"Hey, how're things with Mai?" Jet's question sounded casual.
"Fine. A little awkward. She's dating some guy she met in Paris."
Only a few moments passed before Jet spoke again. "You're not getting back together?"
"What? No. Why?"
"No reason," said Jet. "I mean, I'm curious about the stuff you do. And you two tend to break up and get back together."
Zuko sat up, then, finding Jet's eyes in the dark. "We're not getting back together, Jet," he said.
Jet's mouth twitched. "Yeah. I know we're not," he said.
Zuko started to speak. "I--"
Before Zuko could finish, Jet winked, screwing up his face as he exaggerated the gesture. "Just kidding, dork. You're still so gullible." He stood before Zuko could say anything else.
He was in bed when Zuko caught up to him, his jeans in a pile on the floor. He didn't respond when Zuko whispered his name. Denied something he hadn't even realized he'd hoped for, Zuko changed in silence and crawled under his covers. The sky was pink with dawn before he finally fell asleep.
Next Chapter