FicWad

Author's Notes: Gosh, almost all of this chapter is Zuko talking about his feelings. Or Jet trying to get Zuko to talk about his feelings. In hindsight, that is hilarious. I promise that things start happening soon, of both the plot and gay varieties! In the meantime, enjoy teenage boys having lots of emotions.

Many thanks to Gaisce for providing moral support and helping me whip this into shape (and pointing out the parts that reminded her of Aladdin).

Standard disclaimers apply. Avatar: The Last Airbender is the property of a lot of people with a lot more money than me. I'm only borrowing it for purposes of The Gay.



Chapter Two - Common Ground


The tea shop was closing up for the evening, and Zuko was washing dishes by lamplight in the back as Uncle swept out front. He didn't miss the constant tide of customers demanding his attention. But now, with nothing but the quiet clinking of cups and soft slosh of dishwater to keep him company, he found himself wishing that he had some task to occupy himself with that didn't leave his mind so open to unwelcome thoughts. It had been two full days since he had seen any sign of Jet, and Zuko was beginning to wonder whether he had disappeared for good. He had said he would come back, hadn't he? But when?

This was exactly why he didn't want people - especially people like Jet - getting too close. They inevitably made his life far, far more annoying than it already was. Zuko had more important things to focus on. Getting out of this city. Finding the Avatar. Finally, finally earning back the life he deserved. He didn't have time to spend thinking about some strange rebel boy who could read him in ways that he didn't like at all, and thought he had the right to point it all out.

Zuko sighed irritably, taking out all his frustration on a small, persistent stain on the bottom of a cup. At least he would get to leave soon. Then he could head back to his apartment and hopefully not have to think about Jet for a while -

"Lee," called Uncle from the front of the shop, "your friend is here to see you!"

The cup he was washing slipped from his hands, and he scrambled to catch it before it hit the floor, slamming his shoulder hard into the sharp tiled corner of the countertop. Zuko gritted his teeth, biting back a groan, and waited a moment for his heart to stop racing. He kicked himself mentally for overreacting this much over being caught off-guard. This was just humiliating. Slamming the offending cup down on the counter and drying his hands on his apron, he hastened out to the front of the store.

"Hey," said Jet.

Zuko froze.

Every thought he'd had over the last two days, good or bad, struggled to be the first to be said, while the little voice in the back of his head told him not to say anything stupid and chase Jet away. And now he couldn't remember why he even cared. Zuko's chest ached with something not unlike nervousness. "Hi," he said, and before he could stop himself, added, "We're closed." He winced. That was the best he could do?

But Jet appeared unperturbed. "Yeah. That's why I'm here. I'm guessing you haven't gotten much of a chance to explore the city yet."

What did that have to do with anything? Zuko had spent the majority of the last two days thinking about this boy, being alternately furious and confused at him and wishing he would come back so he could either get a straight answer or punch him in the face or both (he wasn't sure in what order). And yet now that Jet was right in front of him, he wanted nothing more than to retreat back to the dishes, where things were uncomplicated and he couldn't mess things up any further than he already had.

"I've been busy," said Zuko.

"Yeah," said Jet, "I know. I thought maybe you could use a distraction." He smiled, and Zuko fought the inexplicable urge to look somewhere, anywhere else. "We could go out, see the city. It'll get your mind off work for a while, right?"

"He would love to go," Uncle said, smiling in a way that suggested he had absolutely no idea what Zuko had gone through over the past week. If Zuko hadn't known him so well, he might have actually believed that.

"I really shouldn't," Zuko said quickly. He was looking for any excuse now. "There are still a lot of dishes, and-"

"Leave those to me," Uncle chimed in.

"Uncle!"

Iroh patted Zuko's arm in a way that completely failed to be comforting. "I insist."

Jet beamed. "Seriously?"

Zuko grasped desperately for any reason he could think of to get out of spending time with Jet, but he knew that by now it was too late. Uncle had always been completely immovable when it came to things like this.

"My nephew's dedication to his work is admirable, but how could I live with myself if I allowed him to spend such a lovely spring evening washing dishes?"

Zuko's face fell, but Jet looked as happy as Zuko had ever seen him.

"I owe you one, old man."

"If you manage to make my nephew enjoy himself," said Uncle, grinning brightly, "that will be more than enough."

And before Zuko could protest, Jet had grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him out the front door and into the lamp-lit street. Zuko stumbled behind him, trying to find his voice. A few buildings down, Jet slowed to a stop. Zuko jerked his arm out of Jet's grip, face flushed. "What do you think you're doing?"

Jet smiled patiently at Zuko, his hand resting on his hip. "You ask a lot of really obvious questions, you know that, Lee?"

"That's - I didn't mean -" Zuko fumbled for words, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. Why did Jet have such a knack for making him uncomfortable? He grumbled, frustrated. "Why are you so persistent?"

A winning grin. "I don't give up on what I want."

"It's annoying," Zuko replied, glancing away.

"Some people call it admirable."

"This is stupid," he muttered, turning in the direction of his apartment. "I'm leaving."

He heard Jet fall into step behind him, but pointedly ignored it, not looking up until he felt the weight of the other boy's hand on his shoulder. Zuko stopped short, turning sharply to get out from the other boy's touch. Jet looked almost apologetic, but Zuko didn't particularly care.

"Come on," urged Jet. "It'll be fun."

"Fun," repeated Zuko dubiously.

"Fun. You are familiar with the idea, aren't you?"

Zuko narrowed his eyes. "I've heard of it."

"That's really, really not the answer I was hoping for, Lee," Jet said, tilting his head to one side and regarding him with something that reminded Zuko of pity. He hated it.

Zuko crossed his arms. This was getting awkward again. Why did Jet even care? But either Jet didn't notice Zuko's sour mood, or, more likely, it simply didn't bother him.

"This is more serious than I thought," Jet continued.

"What is?"

"We've gotta start somewhere," Jet said, seemingly ignoring his question. "What do you do for fun?"

"Nothing." Zuko wanted this conversation to be over. He wanted this night to be over. Why had he ever thought he wanted to see Jet again? How stupid was he?

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," Zuko reiterated, growing more irritable with every word.

Jet raised an eyebrow. "You can't be serious."

"I'm always serious."

"Yeah, no kidding," Jet said, and - did he almost laugh?

Zuko bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind," said Jet, his hands coming up in a placating gesture. "All right, fine. So you don't have any hobbies. What do you do with your time?"

Zuko shrugged awkwardly. He wanted to be somewhere, anywhere but here. Maybe if he was as noncommittal as possible, Jet would get bored and leave. Stranger things had happened. Things like Jet being here in the first place.

"You're pretty good with those swords," Jet pointed out.

"I guess so," admitted Zuko. It was true - he was. But he wasn't sure he liked where this conversation was going. It implied that more things were about to happen when all he really wanted was to seclude himself in his apartment and never be asked questions like this again.

"Well," said Jet with a grin, "that's a start."


*

Jet liked watching people. He enjoyed watching them doing ordinary everyday things, picking up their subtle quirks and the little signals in their body language that gave away what even the most guarded words could never really hide. At the moment, he was watching Lee, who seemed to be unaware that he was the target of Jet's attention as he moved through the dimly-lit weapons shop. That was just fine with Jet. Ever since they had parted ways at the immigration office, Lee had been so gruff and standoffish - but now, finally, as Lee moved with fluid grace through the displays of swords and knives and staffs that lined the shop, Jet could see a shadow of the intense young man he'd met on the ferry.

This confirmed everything that he had suspected. Lee wasn't meant for a quiet, easy city life any more than he was. A guy didn't get as good with swords as Lee was for fun. There was something more to him, and Jet was intent on finding out just what that was.

Lee stopped, and Jet found himself watching the other boy's fingers as they thoughtfully traced a pattern on the hilt of an expensive-looking broadsword. The gesture was almost delicate. Could this really be the same guy who had thrown him out of the teashop only two days earlier? It didn't seem possible. He was so careful. So precise.

Jet's gaze traveled upwards, studying Lee's face, and, not for the first time, Jet wondered what was really going on behind that inscrutable mask of his.

"See something you like?" Jet asked.

Lee looked up quickly, an expression Jet couldn't quite identify on his face. Something like regret, but harder. That was a shame. Jet had been enjoying seeing something besides misery or irritation on Lee's face - but the thought flitted through Jet's mind before he could grasp it.

"It doesn't matter," Lee replied, pulling his hand back and letting it drop to his side. "I can't afford this."

"That's not the point. Besides, it's nice having something to look forward to, right?" A cloud passed over Lee's face, and he looked away. That had obviously been the wrong thing to say. "Look," said Jet quickly, "I get it."

"You don't," Lee snapped.

"Yeah," Jet insisted, taking a step closer to Lee. "I do. You don't want to be stuck in this city. You've got more important things to do than waste your time in a place like this. Those fat old men you're serving tea to don't understand you, but I do. This isn't where you're supposed to be. You're meant for bigger things."

And for the first time in a week, that closed-off look vanished from Lee's eyes, replaced by sharp determination. Finally, for the first time since they'd arrived in Ba Sing Se, Lee's eyes shone with the same intensity they had that night on the ferry. There it was. Jet had his hook - now all he had to do was reel the other boy in.

Perfect.

"Come on," he said, "let's get out of here."


*

They left the weapons shop, heading into the warm lamplight of the street outside. Lee walked at Jet's side, but allowed Jet to lead the way. "So," said Jet casually, "Where to now?"

Lee shrugged. Jet had expected that. But Lee hadn't tried to leave again, which meant that he was getting somewhere. Slowly, yeah, but with a guy like Lee, even slow progress counted for a lot. Now what he needed was a place where they could talk -- just the two of them. Someplace where Lee wouldn't have to think about the rest of the world, where he wouldn't have to put up the masks he'd been wearing all day at that tea shop. He needed to get him alone.

"I know someplace nice," Jet said, as an idea occurred to him.

"Where?"

Jet grinned. "You'll see."

A few blocks down the street, Jet slowed, hand on his hips, and looked upwards, searching.

Lee cocked his head quizzically. "What are you looking for?"

"A roof," replied Jet simply.

"What?"

"Come on," he said, not bothering to explain. "Follow me." Jet ducked into an alley, picking his way carefully through the darkness the street lamps couldn't penetrate.

He could hear Lee following close behind him, and from the sound of his quiet, measured footsteps, this wasn't the first time he'd done something like this. Jet thought back to their raid on the captain's quarters: Lee's quiet intensity, his skill and creativity with those broadswords... Yeah, Lee was just full of surprises. He smirked to himself and turned, heading two buildings down, and stopped when he found his target. An apartment building - three stories high.

"This way," he said over his shoulder, more out of courtesy than necessity - by this point he trusted Lee to be able to follow him. Jet scaled the side of the building without much difficulty, using window ledges and the drainpipe for leverage, and pulled himself onto the roof. Dusting off his palms, he turned and offered a hand to Lee. The boy regarded it dubiously for a moment, as though it was something foreign to him, but finally gave in and took it.

He was really warm, Jet thought with mild surprise during the few seconds that their hands were clasped; and then as quickly as the thought had had come, it vanished, and Lee was standing in front of him, looking off to the side sheepishly. "Thanks," he muttered.

Jet flashed him a grin. "No problem."

Moving with the practiced ease of someone who had spent years of his life in the treetops, he made his way to the opposite side of the slanted roof and sat, letting his legs dangle over the side. Lee hesitated a moment before sitting next to him, pulling his knees up against his chest.

The view was amazing. From their vantage point on the third floor roof, they could see the lower ring sprawling out beneath them, a mosaic of hundreds of houses and shops, the bright spiderweb of streets illuminated by the glow of lanterns in a rainbow of brilliant colors.

Jet glanced over at Lee. Even Jet found it hard to read him, but he looked different than he'd ever seen him before. His eyes were... not untroubled, exactly, but somehow softer, and the lines of his face were less drawn than before. Jet found himself smiling at his expression. He decided he liked Lee like this. He didn't want to spoil it. He wasn't sure how long they sat in silence, Lee watching the city and Jet watching Lee, before Lee turned his head to find Jet looking back. Immediately, Lee's expression became self-conscious, and he looked as though he was about to stammer a completely obvious question again, when Jet cut him off. It was for his own good.

"Nice view, huh?"

Lee paused, brow furrowing, and looked back out over the city. "It looks completely different from this angle," he said. His voice was low. Thoughtful.

Jet leaned back, resting his weight on his hands. "That's life," he said. "Everything's a matter of perspective."

Lee glared.

"All right," Jet laughed. A lot of people would've thought that was profound -- and he couldn't help but be a little impressed with Lee for seeing through it. "That was cliché, huh?"

"Incredibly."

"Sorry. But hey, look, you can see your tea shop from here." He nudged Lee with an elbow, pointing.

Lee's face completely failed to light up with wonderment. "So?"

It wasn't the reaction Jet had hoped for, but he continued without hesitation, not letting it show. "So I thought it was cool."

"I guess," Lee said, sounding unconvinced.

"That's it?" Jet couldn't help being a little frustrated. He'd been sure this would impress Lee, at least a little.

"What do you expect me to say?"

"I don't know," said Jet with a shrug. "Something positive, I guess. Hey, I'd even settle for 'Wow, you're right, I can see my tea shop from here!'"

Lee turned his eyes downwards, two fingers running along the curved edge of a roof tile. Jet wondered just what he'd said to bother him. As though he was ever not bothered. When he finally spoke, it was quiet. "I don't want to like this place."

And there it was: a crack in Lee's armor. Jet had suspected it, of course - but to hear him say it, for Lee to actually admit it to him... well. He didn't figure Lee for the type to do a lot of confiding in others. So for all that Lee was acting like he didn't want to be having this conversation, he wouldn't have said anything if some part of him didn't want Jet to listen.

He wondered if anyone ever really had.

"Yeah?" Jet kept his voice gentle. If Lee thought he was prying, he'd close up again.

"Sometimes I think if I stay here too long, I'll... forget. That I won't be able to -" He cut himself off there, looking back out over the city, his hands clenched at his sides. "Forget it. It's stupid."

"It's not," Jet said, insistent. Lee looked over at him, eyes wide. He looked like he wasn't sure what to do - as though he'd never gotten this reaction before. It was obvious that he wasn't used to talking at length about his feelings, but to actually be surprised by someone showing genuine concern about them...

"Go on," Jet urged.

"No. You'll think I'm being ridiculous."

"I don't." But Lee looked unconvinced, like there was only one possible outcome to this. "Not at all. I just might understand better than you think."

"I doubt that."

Jet gave the other boy his most trustworthy smile. "Only one way to find out."

Lee drew in a long breath, looking as though he was working hard to steel himself up for what he was about to say. "I haven't even been here a week," he began, haltingly, "and I'm already..." He paused. Somewhere in the distance, a light went out. "I'm worried that I'll become... content. It's not that I feel like I belong here - it's exactly the opposite. Every day I spend in this city makes me feel less like myself."

It was essentially what he had expected from Lee - it shouldn't have been a shock. What he hadn't counted on was realizing that the crushing lack of purpose that was plaguing Lee was the same inner battle that he had been fighting for the last week.

"I told you it was stupid," Lee muttered, obviously taking his silence for disapproval, and Jet could hear the self-loathing in his voice.

"Stop that," Jet said. It lacked his usual eloquence, but he found he didn't care.

"What?"

"Being so self-deprecating. It's like you expect people to hate you before they even get to know you. They don't."

Lee made a dismissive noise, but, tellingly, didn't look at him.

"You want to know what I think?"

"Not particularly," Lee huffed.

Great. He was back to being difficult. Jet hoped his window of opportunity hadn't passed. "I wasn't actually looking for an answer."

"Then you shouldn't have asked," said Lee, simply.

"Fair enough," said Jet, turning to look out at the horizon as casually as he could manage.

Lee turned towards him, his expression somewhere between expectant and annoyed. "So? Are you going to tell me or not?"

Jet had to stifle a smile at that. Lee was trying so hard to act like he didn't care, but he was going about it all wrong. It was funny, in a way - there were times when Lee was a complete mystery, and then moments like this where Jet could read him like a book. It seemed that the more he tried to put up walls, the easier they were to see through.

"If you insist," Jet said.

"Don't flatter yourself."

Jet continued as if he hadn't heard that. "I don't think it's this city that's bothering you. I think it's your life."

"What would you know about it?" Lee snapped.

"More than you think."

Another dismissive snort from Lee.

"A guy like you should be off fighting for his country. Making a difference somewhere. You and I both know you have the skill for it. And yet here you are, a refugee in a city that isn't yours, serving tea with your uncle and acting like there's nowhere you want to be less than this. Any fool could see that you aren't happy here. So the question is, are you going to give up and resign yourself to a life you know isn't really yours? Or are you going to take your destiny into your own hands?"

A shadow passed over Lee's face. "I should go," he said, voice strained.

Lee moved to stand, but Jet took hold of his wrist before he could. "Lee - don't," he said, holding on tight as the other boy made an attempt to wrench his wrist away. Out of the corner of his eye, Jet saw Lee's free arm move, and grabbed the wrist of that hand before Lee could do anything with it. Taking advantage of his leverage, he pulled the other boy closer, until Lee was on his knees and their faces were only a foot apart. "Would you just listen to me?"

In the span of seconds, Lee's face went from surprised to flustered to an expression that suggested that he was giving serious consideration to shoving Jet off the roof. Jet was sure that Lee could do just that if he really wanted to - and he was equally sure that he wouldn't.

Lee's breath came short and shallow, and Jet could feel the muscles of the other boy's wrists move underneath his palms, where he held them fast. That same heat he'd felt when he'd grabbed Lee's hand earlier was back in full force now - Jet's face felt warm, and it took him a moment to realize that it was the heat radiating off the other boy. So strange.

Finally, with a frustrated sigh, Lee's arms went limp, and he glared miserably at Jet. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing that you need to be fighting," said Jet, voice quiet but insistent. Jet could swear he saw a flush rise to Lee's cheeks as he stared into the boy's gold eyes. "I think you and I could help each other."

"Let go of me," Lee mumbled, but the words rang hollow. There was none of his usual irritation behind them - just a resigned sort of confusion. Jet released his hold on Lee's wrists, wondering if he would take this chance to leave.

He didn't.

Surprisingly, he didn't even retreat the few inches Jet had pulled him, just fell back into a sitting position at his side. Looking away from Jet, he curled in on himself, pulling his knees back up and rubbing the wrist Jet had been holding. The two of them were close enough that they were almost touching. Jet could still feel the warmth from his body - but it was different now, not touching him. He considered reaching out to him again, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, something, but thought better of it.

"What does it matter to you, anyway?" Lee asked after a moment, without looking up.

"I already told you," said Jet gently. "Back on the ferry." Lee looked back his way out of the corner of his eye, a little cautiously, and Jet gave him his most convincing smile. He looked like he needed it. "Us outcasts have to stick together. When it comes down to it, we're all we've got."

Lee turned at the waist to face him, one hand balled into a fist, pressing harshly into the roof tiles. "If you knew half of what I've done... if you knew the first thing about me, you wouldn't -"

"Lee," he interrupted -- and this time he did reach out, his hand covering Lee's clenched fist. Lee's eyes went wide as he recoiled. Jet leaned closer, hoping he would be lucky enough to keep from getting hit for invading his personal space twice in a row. He decided it was a chance he was willing to take. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you want me to hate you, you're going to have to do better than that."

"You're crazy," Lee said, barely above a whisper. His voice was more bewildered than angry.

"Maybe so," Jet said, "but that doesn't mean I'm wrong. Just hear me out."

"It's not like I have a choice."

"Sure you do. You're just saying that because it's easier than admitting that you're here because you want to be."

"You dragged me up here!"

"Come on. Like I could make you do anything if you really didn't want to. You came with me in the first place - you complained, but the fact is, you're here. You're listening to me now, which means, no matter how you try and justify it, that some part of you thinks what I'm saying is worth hearing. And you haven't moved yet," he said, eyes darting down to where his hand still covered Lee's - and he couldn't help the smirk that found its way onto his face, "so I'm guessing you don't want me gone that badly."

Lee jerked his hand back as if he'd been scalded, and now he was definitely blushing - even in the dark, Jet could tell his face was dark almost enough to match his scar. He was so easily flustered - not at all what Jet would have expected from someone like him. Cute, thought Jet, though it wasn't quite the right word.

"I can't," Lee said, sounding more unsure than normal. "Whatever you want, I - if I just left..." He swallowed hard, and wouldn't quite meet Jet's eyes. "It's not me, it's my uncle..." He trailed off, and Jet felt a sudden pang of sympathy for the other boy.

"I know," said Jet. "Obligations, right?"

Lee nodded.

Jet knew the feeling. Longshot and Smellerbee weren't family, but they might as well have been. "Don't get me wrong," he said. "I'm not asking you to leave him behind. I have to respect a guy who puts family first."

Lee got a strange, far-away look in his eyes at that. Was Lee going to go all quiet and thoughtful at every other thing he said?

"All I'm asking now is for you to stop pushing me away. I want to help you."

"Help me what?" Lee asked gruffly, but there was a sincerity on his face that he couldn't mask.

"Remember," Jet said, holding his gaze. "You said it yourself - every day you spend pretending to be someone you're not takes a little more out of you. How many people in this city know who you really are?"

"Who I really am," Lee repeated, slowly. Thoughtfully. And then, "You don't. Not at all."

"I know you're more than some tea server."

Lee's brow furrowed. "Why do you care?"

"Because I might not really know you, but I can appreciate a spirit like yours when I see it. A guy like you, stuck in a place like that? It's like destroying art." Jet paused for effect, holding the other boy's gaze. "You'd make a great Freedom Fighter."

Lee looked as though he might protest, at first, but that quickly gave way. No masks went up this time, and Jet could feel the storm of emotions behind his eyes. At last, he turned to stare off in the distance for a long moment, fists clenched, face drawn.

"I'll consider it," said Lee, when he turned back. "That's all."

"That's the best news I've heard in weeks," he said, grinning, and found that it was completely true.

"I'm not promising anything," Lee protested, but Jet was past the point of caring. This was as good as a victory, as far as he was concerned.

Jet leaned back with his hands behind his head, watching the stars, occasionally sneaking a glance at Lee out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't sure how many minutes passed before something occurred to him, and he felt the need to break the silence. "Can I ask you another question?"

"Do what you want. I don't have to answer it."

That wasn't a no, Jet thought with a grin. "If I show up at the shop tomorrow, will you throw me out again?"

"No," replied Lee flatly. "I don't work tomorrow."

Jet blinked in surprise, and then laughed. "Lee..."

Lee looked down at him, puzzled. "What?" When Jet didn't say anything, just kept laughing, his expression turned to flustered annoyance. "What did I do?"

"No," Jet said, "nothing." When that didn't seem to appease Lee, Jet smiled, adding, "I mean, it's just... you actually made a joke."

"Oh," said Lee. A few seconds later, he seemed to remember himself, and added, "Fine. If that's what you want to think."