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Jet is the roughest-looking girl Zura’s ever seen; maybe one of the roughest people she’s ever seen. Her hair is windblown and tangled and her hands are calloused and her grin is sharp, and she holds her swords easy and deft and Zura can tell she’s itching for a fight. She’s not quite up there with, say, a pirate, but she’s awfully close, and she stands out among the other Earth Kingdom girls.
“Hey, Lee,” Jet says, leaning in close, and Zura scowls at her. It’s hard not to.
She doesn’t want to be here. This isn’t where she belongs. She’s not—she isn’t—
“What's that face?” Jet says with a grin, and Zura misses the sharp edge she used to file her nails to. Girls don’t do that in the Earth Kingdom, though.
"Shut up," she says. Jet's grin widens.
"Naw," she says. "Come on, follow me."
"Why?" Zura asks, already fairly certain it's just that Jet likes being followed.
"I've got something for you," Jet says. Zura eyes her suspiciously.
"I don't want it," she says.
"How do you know?" Jet says with a laugh. She slings an arm around her shoulders, and Zura glowers at her and shrugs it off. Jet stays in close, though, closer than anyone Zura can think of who she isn't related to, and closer than most of them too.
"I know," she says irritably.
"I like your hair," Jet says, not even like she's changing the subject, and Zura balks. That's . . . not what she expected to hear.
"What hair?" she asks defensively. She shaved it all off; it's still only barely more than stubble. Jet laughs and runs a hand through her own, which is much longer and tangles around her shoulders.
"That's what I like," Jet says easily. "Bet it's a lot easier to take care of that way.”
"You don't look like you've taken care of your hair a day in your life," Zura says derisively. Jet grins at her.
"Harsh," she says. Zura doesn't understand why she keeps grinning like that.
"What is it?" she says.
“Hm?” Jet tilts her head. Zura scowls at her.
“The thing you’ve got,” she says.
“Oh,” Jet says, grinning again. “It’s nice. You’ll like it. Promise.”
“I don’t like anything,” Zura says. Jet laughs. Then she grabs her by the front of her robes and pulls her into the shadows. Zura stiffens, expecting an attack.
She doesn’t get attacked.
Jet kisses her. Zura makes a startled noise, eyes widening, and Jet wraps her arms around her neck and squeezes.
“What are you doing?” Zura sputters, pulling back.
“I thought that was kinda obvious,” Jet says wryly.
“I’m a girl!” Zura says hotly.
“Yeah, so?” Jet tilts her head again, looking amused. “Ever kissed a girl before?”
“No!” Zura sputters.
“Ever kissed anybody before?” Jet asks, pouncing like a shirshu after a scent. Zura’s face burns.
“Shut up!” she says. Jet grins.
“That’s cute,” she says, leaning in and reaching up to press her thumb against Zura’s lower lip. Zura almost bites it.
“Get off me,” she snaps, pushing the other’s hand away. Jet keeps grinning.
“Really cute,” she says. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
“I don’t care if you mind,” Zura says, folding her arms defensively. Jet raises her eyebrows at her. Zura bites her tongue before she can say something else that she might use as ammunition.
It figures her first kiss would be embarrassing, she thinks, mouth thinning in frustration.
“Okay,” Jet says, touching her arm in a way no one’s ever touched her arm, soft and careful and . . . and just weird. Zura pulls back again and glowers at her. “Aw, c’mon, don’t pout.”
“I’m not pouting!” Zura says indignantly. Jet’s mouth quirks.
“You kind of are,” she says. “That’s cute too, though.”
“Your smirking is not,” Zura says. Jet laughs again. She laughs too much, Zura thinks. She can’t see what’s so damn funny.
“I’ll take that under advisement,” Jet says, then kisses her cheek. Zura makes a face.
“What are you doing?” she says. Jet smiles against her skin, then steps back and leans casually against the wall.
“Well, the plan was flirting,” she says. “Or whatever’ll get you to kiss me back.”
“Who said I wanted to kiss you?” Zura says, scowling.
“People do, usually,” Jet says with an easy shrug. Zura’s scowl darkens.
“I don’t,” she says.
“Too bad,” Jet says. Zura glares at her. She doesn’t like the way Jet just accepts that, although she’d hate her trying to kiss her again too, so . . .
So.
So she doesn’t know, exactly.
“Don’t pretend like you care,” she says irritably. Jet could kiss anyone she felt like, probably. Why would she be interested in her?
“Why wouldn’t I care?” Jet says. Zura really misses her nails.
“I know what I look like,” she says, and Jet’s expression shifts.
“You look like a fighter. A survivor,” she says. “So basically exactly the kind of person I want to kiss.”
“That’s not true,” Zura says. Jet pushes off the wall and leans in again, peering closely at her with a speculative expression that makes her bristle.
“It definitely is,” Jet says.
“I don’t believe you,” Zuko says. Jet gives her a long, considering look, then reaches out and tugs open the front of her over-robe, and Zura makes an outraged noise. Jet laughs, and loosens her own too. It doesn’t really reveal anything—they’re both wearing layers, and Jet’s wearing armor too—but it makes Zura feel overheated and strange anyway.
“What are you doing?” she demands, pulling her robe back over her chest.
“I wanna kiss you again,” Jet says.
“No you don’t,” Zura says.
“Then stop me, or I’m gonna prove it,” Jet says, and grabs her and drags her in close. Zura almost breaks her nose on reflex. Jet kisses her again, quick and hungry, and Zura doesn’t know what to do about it. She grabs onto the other’s arms, and Jet falls back and pulls her down. Zura lands clumsily on top of her, catching herself on the wall with a hand, and Jet grins against her mouth.
“Hey!” Zura manages protestingly.
“Told you,” Jet says breathlessly, and kisses her again. Zura still doesn’t know what to do about it. She bites her more on instinct than anything else, and Jet makes a noise, and Zura feels . . . warm. Much too warm.
“Shut up,” she says stiffly, ducking her head. Jet chases her mouth, and Zura . . . hesitates. Jet kisses her again, and she . . . and she . . .
“Hey, it’s okay,” Jet murmurs, putting a hand on her arm to squeeze; nuzzling in close. “It’s not hard. Just do what I do.”
“I know how to do it,” Zura says shortly, face burning again. It’s just—doing it. She feels like if she kisses back, Jet will lean back and laugh at her for being stupid enough to fall for it. She feels like it’s a trick, or a trap, or . . .
“If you don’t want to—” Jet starts, and Zura lunges forward and kisses her. Roughly, definitely too roughly because she smashes their noses together and their teeth collide, but Jet doesn’t lean back and laugh at her, Jet wraps her arms around her and kisses back, and Zura feels warm all the way to her core.
Stupid, she tells herself. She’s being very stupid.
“You’re amazing,” Jet says admiringly, and Zura feels even stupider, but kisses her again.
“Shut up,” she mutters, and Jet bites the words out of her mouth. She misses her nails, and her hair, and her armor, and so many other things. She misses her life.
She misses everything, but . . .
But.
“Amazing,” Jet says again, and if it weren’t for all this, Zura never would’ve met her.
She doesn’t know how to feel about that.