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The Cell	By : InkHeart17 Category: Avatar - The Last Airbender > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 11947 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter Two: Disturbing the Peace

The silence was heavy. The eerie halls outside amplified any passing footstep, creak, or drip. Jet was bored and growing tired of counting plops of water seeping through odd cracks in the stones. Flicking a blade of grass over his lips couldn’t entertain him forever either. He glanced over at Katara’s form and wet his lips. Time for some fun.

The scuffle of his body as he shifted to lean forward garnered Katara’s attention. Jet’s casual drawl seemed even more impressive than usual as it cut through the silence. “My Katara,” the rogue said with a heard but unseen smirk, “did I look as good frozen to that tree as you do chained to that wall?”

Katara stiffened. “Stuff it, Jet!” She rattled her chains in annoyance. In his corner, Zuko did his best to ignore the both of them.

Jet let the silence resume allowing Katara time to simmer under his comment. The quiet became uncomfortable and eventually the waterbender felt pressured to say something else.

“By the way, how long did you take to thaw out?” she muttered.

Jet sounded almost bored when he replied, “Oh not too long.” He smirked before his expression soured. “The Fire Nation soldiers immediately raided the woods after that venture and it didn’t take them long to find me where I was.”

Zuko scoffed to himself still pretending not to be interested, but the prospect of Jet frozen to a tree surrounded by soldiers wasn’t an unwelcome image.

“I’m glad you were caught,” Katara quipped.

Jet’s smirk returned. “Sorry to disappoint you, but those men were so caught up in melting the ice, they didn’t seem to notice Longshot take his aim.” The teenage rebel chuckled softly as he remembered the arrows piercing every man’s skull. Zuko pretended not to hear that last part of his countrymen being murdered by that quiet boy from the ferry.

The silence returned; Jet didn’t let it linger. “By the way,” he posed, “was that pinned against a tree move spur-of-the-moment or inspired?”

Katara’s eyes shifted to Zuko’s corner. “Ask Apron Boy.”

The Freedom Fighter raised an eyebrow and looked over to Zuko. “You had her against a tree?” he half scoffed.

Zuko didn’t reply. Rather, he averted his eyes and shifted himself further into his corner.

“That’s a ‘yes,’” Jet laughed. He licked his lips again, glancing back at Katara, wanting to stoke the flames higher. “So tell me, Zuko,” he said playfully, trying out the new name, “did she look as comely against a tree as she does now?”

“Stop it, Jet!” Katara snapped causing another lock of hair to fall over her shoulder.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Jet said coolly, flicking his grass to the other corner of his mouth. He turned back to the Firebender. “Come on, Zuko. Tell me. Look at our comely inmate and tell me.”

Zuko tried to hold down his blush even if the others couldn’t see it. The smoothness of Jet’s voice, being put on the spot, and the ambiguous topic made the situation uncomfortable to say the least. He had no reason to answer it, but the pressure was on; to be a guy and admit to having a sex drive. The sound of footsteps could be heard in the hallway; most likely an agent making the rounds. Looking for an out, he commented, “Somebody’s coming.”

Jet grinned. “I wish it was Katara.”

“OH!” she shrieked in offence. Zuko scowled at the vulgarity. “You’re a sick jerk!” she yelled, straining against her chains as her fists tried to fly at Jet.

“Name calling isn’t one of your strong suits, Katara,” Jet replied as the footsteps faded.

“Stop talking, you slime!” she screamed.

He cocked his head as if considering her statement before he said, “That wasn’t much better.”

Before Katara’s scowl deepened further, Zuko interceded. “Cut it out.”

The Freedom Fighter turned his head to the corner. “You talking now?” he quipped cynically.

Zuko blinked. “Ju… Just leave her alone,” he said in a firm half whisper.

“Okay, Apron Boy,” Jet leered. “I’ll shut my mouth if you answer my question.”

The Prince pursed his lips. “What question?” he asked trying to delay answering.

Jet’s eyes gleamed with malicious intent but his voice was even as he asked, “As compared against a tree, do you think Katara looks comely in her chains?” Katara fully resented being remarked upon as though she were a painting, but she kept quiet; slightly curious about Zuko’s response.

Zuko’s hormones were eager to mull over the question but Reason tried to rein his libido and answer gracefully. Chains vs. Ropes. He frowned. As much as he liked interrogating prisoners, the bondage part wasn’t one of the thrills. And it certainly wasn’t a turn on! Was it?

He squinted through the darkness. From what he could see of the girl, she didn’t presently exemplify comeliness. The absence of moonlight illuminating her lithe, struggling form and pouting expression made the honest answer, “No,” he finished aloud.

Katara’s mouth tightened in offence, masking her disappointment. Why should she care what Zuko thought? And did she really expect him to admit to anything if he did think of her that way?

Jet responded in mock sympathy. “Ah, poor Katara. Even Fire Nation scum doesn’t think you’re pretty.”

Zuko stiffened. “That’s not what you asked!”

Both eyebrows arched as Jet turned back to the corner. “Oh, so you do think she’s pretty.” It wasn’t a question. Katara raised her head.

“Leave it alone,” the scarred boy practically growled.

Jet’s words danced cruelly. “Is ‘pretty’ different than ‘comely’ to you?”

The Prince swiveled his upper body to face Jet, slamming his palm down hard on the floor. “Didn’t you say you’d keep your mouth shut after I answered your question?” he said through gritted teeth.

“No, I said I’d ‘shut my mouth.’ I did and now it’s open again” the rebel replied matter-of-factly.

“You forked tongued sneak,” Zuko snarled.

“See!” Jet turned to Katara. “Now he understands name calling.”

“SHUT UP!” she and Zuko shouted together.

The Freedom Fighter leaned back into his corner, smirking. He reached up and removed the grass stem from his lips; it was chewed to limpness, but he pocketed it for later anyway. His two cellmates seemed doubtful that he would stay quiet, and they were right. Messing with these two is just too fun, he decided. Grass removed, his mouth could now enunciate every syllable of his next ploy to aggravate the benders.

Jet sat up straight and said, enthused, “Anyone for a sing-along?” Without waiting for an answer, he launched into a vulgar drinking song he’d learned from eavesdropping on camping soldiers.

“Oh, you’ve had a drink or two,
Now you’re feeling brave
Enough to sweet talk
The wench across the way…”

Katara and Zuko shot each other knowing and slightly desperate looks. They knew Jet was trying to get a rise out of them, and both tried to communicate with a glance not to react to whatever else he did. Gazes locked for a moment longer before the two remembered they were supposed to be enemies and never have a shade of understanding beyond contempt for each other.

“Her body is invitin’
Her voice a soothing shade,
One more round, you’ll have her mound,
Tonight you’re getting la-“

Zuko coughed loudly, his own attempt to censor Jet. The rebel captain’s knowing smile grew wider before he started the next verse, even louder. Katara rolled her eyes. Very smooth, Zuko, she mentally chided.

Feeling further encouraged after he was certain he heard a Dai Li agent singing the tune from down the hall, the rogue soloist continued for another eight versus before finishing in a dramatic falsetto, which made his voice crack rather cutely.

Glancing around, he observed Zuko and Katara, in their own ways, breathing sighs of relief, ready to welcome the settling quiet. Satisfied with the stir-up, Jet returned to his silent musings. Now there was an edge between present company and it could only get sharper from here.

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AN: Smex is to follow soon.
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The Cell