Only If For a Night(MxM)

Miskwà Lake

"Ouch, fuck ," Jet spat, walking away from the small rowboat while shaking out his hand.

"Black Mamba bite?" Zuko called out sarcastically from his perch on the swampy little beach.

Jet growled. "Well I thought it would be fun to take your miserable ass on a boat ride, but I think that boat is part of the mud now," He frowned at his pinched finger.

"My miserable ass likes being firmly on land, thank you," He didn't look up from the book that was resting on his knees.

"You know how to swim, right?" Jet squinted out at the lake. It was more of a marsh pond anyway, the edges overgrown with cattails and tall grass.

"My academy had a pool in it," Zuko nonchalantly flipped the page of his book. It wasn't his fault that he didn't understand how ridiculous that sentence sounded.

Jet nodded and glanced to the left to the small forest of cattails and made eye contact with arguably the most massive bullfrog he had ever seen. It was easily the size of a honeydew melon. Its wonky, crossed eyes somehow understood that he had found it, and it gave out an indignant ' ribbit.'

Zuko startled, glancing around the pond for the noise. He was on his feet in an instant with a shrill squawk; finger extended at the Shrek -Esque fiend.

"Christ, is that a frog?" He bellowed

"You know, I could call my mom and ask for her frog legs recipe," Jet thought out loud, trying to figure out which way the frog would leap if he were to go after it.

" No ," Zuko started shaking his head. "No, nope, no, not happening. He had a critical job guarding the lily pads against... whatever else lives in this swamp. We can't eat him," Even though he was defending the slimy creature, he was giving it a somewhat reproachful stink eye. The amphibian reciprocated in full.

"Fine," Jet didn't want to kill the frog anyway. How do you kill something so impossible as a bullfrog? It was most definitely a forest spirit of some kind, and Jet didn't have enough energy to anger any gods.

~0~

The water was too murky to even think about swimming in. Neither of them was bored enough to try their luck with what was floating under the surface. Jet hadn't had the foresight to bring fishing poles or even to learn how to fish.

It had been a bit of a journey to get Zuko out of the eye-sight of the cabin. He was convinced that the bear they saw on their way up had followed them the rest of the way. The whole time he was spouting this insane theory, he was backing it up with statistics about how fast bears can travel and how great their sense of smell was. He was perfectly content with spending this week securely confined in the cabin, sitting on the small patio in the back to watch the sun go down, and never venture out of running distance of the doors.

Jet was not as content with this stagnancy. The television only had the weather channel and something called ' Toddlers and Tiaras.' It was the worst and most confusing television show he had ever watched, and he was including the handful of times he had watched Iranian hand puppet shows when he was deployed.

He had paced the small rooms, dug through every cabinet and cupboard. He had snooped under the beds and went into the root cellar, a place that Zuko did not go down into, but held the flashlight up at the top of the stairs for Jet anyway.

The kid had been even more quiet than usual. Before they had become friends, his silent stretches could last for weeks, but that didn't happen anymore. Jet figured that he was feeling guilty about all of this drama and fear, and he couldn't blame him for feeling like it. Obviously, Jet held no grudges against him for everything that had happened, but he could see how Zuko would think that such a thing was appropriate.

Jet still had the, now healed over, cut on his head, hidden by his hairline where his helmet had bitten into his skull. The bruises had faded into more of a shadow than anything else, but the tenderness was ever-present. The fact that he was the most aggravated and salty about was that his bike had to be sold for scrap because there was no saving it. He loved that bike, and there was nothing he could do to save it.

This was day two of their trip, and the detective had called once on the burner phone he had bought in Chinatown to update them on the case.

The stalker's DNA had been run through the databases, and it had come up dry, but now it was put into the system.

Jet had been reassured that all the stalker needed to do was slip up again, and they would get him.

And he would slip up again. No one that unstable can go too long without catching any eyes.

This was all relayed to Zuko in an unconcerned and worry-free way, casually spoken while Jet formed hamburger patties at the kitchen counter. He had accepted the information quietly and calmly, and he responded punctually when Jet asked him to open the sliding patio for him. He followed him out onto the patio and watched him grill the food, seemingly unruffled by the information. Jet heaved an internal sigh of relief.

The lake had been a unique experience in the oddest ways. As two bred and born New-Yorkers who spent most of their time in the city, the stagnant small Miskwà lake was nothing either had ever seen. It was swampy and dank, the trees were louder than they had ever heard a plant be, the animals not giving them a single care in the world.

They were simultaneously baffled and confused, disappointed, and overwhelmed.

"I think that the lake gave me a rash," Zuko frowned, scratching at his wrist.

"You didn't even go in the water," Jet glanced over at him from his station at the grill.

"No," he admitted, blunt nails picking at the reddened skin. "But I was close enough to it," he grumbled.

Jet rolled his eyes and set down his spatula. In three steps, he was next to Zuko's lawn chair, and he carefully grabbed his wrist.

"That," he turned his hand over, baring his wrist. He brought Zuko's hand closer to his face than was really necessary, letting his thumb slide over the soft skin of his forearm more times than what was strictly needed, "That is a mosquito bite, my friend. Not a rash,"

He grinned at a blushing Zuko.

"Oh," he whispered, not pulling away from his hand. Jet didn't make any moves to drop it either. He pretended like he was inspecting his hand for any further injury. "I've never had a mosquito bite get that big before," He commented, not disliking how cool Jet's hands were.

"This is Canada," Jet mused "The mosquito was probably the size of a Buick,"

Zuko snorted. "It's itchy,"

"Do you want me to kiss it, so it feels better?" Jet teased, fully prepared to kiss anything Zuko asked him to.

His mouth popped open in surprise, staring at Jet incredulously.

Jet, in turn, was wearing the biggest shit-eating grin ever worn. His lips had barely made contact with his wrist before they heard it.

Sizzle. Pop. Pop.

Both of their heads whip around to see the grill ablaze.

"Fuck!" Jet called out, launching himself away. "The burgers!"

It took two minutes of turning off burner flames and scraping beef off of the grill, but the fire got under control.

Zuko stood next to Jet during all of this, holding a bright red fire extinguisher, poised and ready to go.

Jet sighed down at the pile of smoldering hamburger he had unceremoniously piled onto a paper plate.

"How do pancakes sound?" He asked, to either the charcoal in his hand or to Zuko.

Zuko was the only one to respond. "They sound good,"

It took a fraction of a second of eye contact for both of them to erupt in laughter. It was the best kind that has you doubling over with tears threatening to leak out of your eyes.