[fic] Mad Men references and willful titular anachronisms
After no small amount of angsting over it, I decided to give myself a week off of posting "Something to Hold Onto" -- There are only two chapters and an epilogue left to go, and after putting so much work into this story I REALLY want to make sure they're done right. So rather than rush Chapter 10 through revisions, I'll hold off a few more days and do it properly.
In the meantime, here are two mini-fics that I wrote a little while back for a meme on my journal. Both are about Jet and Zuko, but neither of them take place in the same universe as "Something To Hold Onto." They also have completely ridiculous titles, because apparently exhaustion makes me even sillier than usual!
Title: In Which the Part of Betty Draper is played by Zuko
Word count: 500
Pairing: Jet/Zuko
Rating: PG-13, though only because of all the swearing
Summary: Pearls and pot roast
***
"I don't see what's so funny," Zuko snapped. "I said I'd get a job, you're the one who talked me out of it."
"And I'm so glad I did! This pot roast looks delightful!"
Zuko's face was completely red, now. "You can cook your own dinner if you're gonna be an asshole about it! Look, you said you'd have to work late, and I turned in my paper at five, and we already had the fucking pot roast in the fridge and it seemed stupid to-" Jet was still laughing, and finally Zuko hit him with a pillow. "All I did was ask how your day was! What is so fucking funny?"
Jet snatched the pillow away, though he was grinning. "Zuko, you came to the door in an apron. And you're wearing a bandanna with flowers on it."
"My hair was getting in my face and it was the only one I could find!"
"And you made a Pot. Roast."
"Because you said you liked it!"
Jet chuckled and reached out to muss Zuko's hair. "I know, but it's just so...Better Homes and Gardens. All you need is a string of pearls and some high heels, and-"
"Could we maybe not make this any more emasculating than it already is?" Zuko snapped.
Jet's smile faded a little. "Baby, I'm just teasing..."
"I stay at home all day not making any money, I do all the housework and cook dinner, I go to the cafe and it's nothing but moms with strollers, and yes I watch fucking soap operas but you know, it's not like there's anything else on except a million reruns of Law and Order and I don't-"
"Zuko," said Jet, serious now. "We've talked about this. You wanted to go back to school, and this is what we worked out."
"I wear the apron because I don't want to get shit on my jeans! I only have two pairs, and I-"
"Zuko!" Jet reached out to touch his cheek. "You don't have to explain this stuff to me."
"If you're going to think of me like your...like your housewife...or husband, or whatever..." Zuko frowned even deeper and looked down at his lap. "Then I don't want to do this. That's not how I want things to be."
Jet lifted Zuko's chin, smiled and leaned in to kiss his mouth. "They're not that way at all," he said. "You're my boyfriend who was nice enough to make dinner and doesn't want to mess up his jeans." Another kiss. "And I'm being a jerk."
Zuko flushed. "You are," he muttered, though the grumpiness had softened.
Jet grinned and tapped the end of Zuko's nose. "I think the pearls would be cute, though," he mused. "Maybe a red gingham dress..."
This time, the pillow hit Jet square in the face.
***
Title: And After That, Maybe a Movie?
Word count: 450
Pairing: Jet/Zuko
Rating: PG
Summary: Us outcasts have to stick together. Which means kissing, essentially.
***
He's looking out at the water -- the gray mist and the pale ribbon of the city's outer wall. He's thinking about what Jet has said, and what he said in reply. Maybe he is an outcast. Maybe he'll need more than the company of his uncle to survive in a world that doesn't want him. His eyes roam over the still-distant cliffs, but they hold no easy answers.
The moment breaks with the warm weight of a hand on his shoulder. He turns to ask what Jet thinks he's doing, but the other boy's face already fills his field of vision, brown eyes half-lidded and lips slightly parted. Jet presses their mouths together, and for a moment Zuko is too startled to react, his senses overwhelmed by the smell of someone else's hair and skin, mingling with the salt of sea water.
Then he thinks, This is a kiss, and his hand comes up to push against Jet's chest, forcing him back to a safe distance.
"You can't just...do things like that!" he splutters as he wipes at his mouth.
Jet smiles, although even Zuko can see his feelings are bruised. "It seemed like the right time," he says.
"Well it wasn't." Zuko scowls at his hands, now gripping the railing. I didn't think it would be like that, he thinks, and he can feel his face grow hot. He had pictured how his first time might be, alone in his bunk at night with little else to occupy his mind. He had pictured sweeping a girl into his arms, her gasp of surprise and how her soft lips might taste. Or a childhood friend rushing to meet him at his homecoming, swept up into his arms. None of his imaginings had involved a rough, cocky stranger on the deck of a ferry, or the feel of stubble against his cheek.
"Next time I'll let you lead, then," says Jet. He runs his fingers back through his hair and returns the stalk of wheat to his mouth. It quivers as he laughs. "Maybe I'll buy you dinner first?"
Zuko doesn't know how to reply. This isn't how he'd thought it would be.
The ferry slips through the still, dark water, and Zuko watches the cliffs grow closer. Jet stays beside him, and though he doesn't move to touch Zuko again, Zuko imagines he can feel the heat of his body. It's a strange new awareness, and not entirely welcome. But as they stand together at the railing, he allows himself to wonder how it would be to grow used to it.
***
In the meantime, here are two mini-fics that I wrote a little while back for a meme on my journal. Both are about Jet and Zuko, but neither of them take place in the same universe as "Something To Hold Onto." They also have completely ridiculous titles, because apparently exhaustion makes me even sillier than usual!
Title: In Which the Part of Betty Draper is played by Zuko
Word count: 500
Pairing: Jet/Zuko
Rating: PG-13, though only because of all the swearing
Summary: Pearls and pot roast
***
"I don't see what's so funny," Zuko snapped. "I said I'd get a job, you're the one who talked me out of it."
"And I'm so glad I did! This pot roast looks delightful!"
Zuko's face was completely red, now. "You can cook your own dinner if you're gonna be an asshole about it! Look, you said you'd have to work late, and I turned in my paper at five, and we already had the fucking pot roast in the fridge and it seemed stupid to-" Jet was still laughing, and finally Zuko hit him with a pillow. "All I did was ask how your day was! What is so fucking funny?"
Jet snatched the pillow away, though he was grinning. "Zuko, you came to the door in an apron. And you're wearing a bandanna with flowers on it."
"My hair was getting in my face and it was the only one I could find!"
"And you made a Pot. Roast."
"Because you said you liked it!"
Jet chuckled and reached out to muss Zuko's hair. "I know, but it's just so...Better Homes and Gardens. All you need is a string of pearls and some high heels, and-"
"Could we maybe not make this any more emasculating than it already is?" Zuko snapped.
Jet's smile faded a little. "Baby, I'm just teasing..."
"I stay at home all day not making any money, I do all the housework and cook dinner, I go to the cafe and it's nothing but moms with strollers, and yes I watch fucking soap operas but you know, it's not like there's anything else on except a million reruns of Law and Order and I don't-"
"Zuko," said Jet, serious now. "We've talked about this. You wanted to go back to school, and this is what we worked out."
"I wear the apron because I don't want to get shit on my jeans! I only have two pairs, and I-"
"Zuko!" Jet reached out to touch his cheek. "You don't have to explain this stuff to me."
"If you're going to think of me like your...like your housewife...or husband, or whatever..." Zuko frowned even deeper and looked down at his lap. "Then I don't want to do this. That's not how I want things to be."
Jet lifted Zuko's chin, smiled and leaned in to kiss his mouth. "They're not that way at all," he said. "You're my boyfriend who was nice enough to make dinner and doesn't want to mess up his jeans." Another kiss. "And I'm being a jerk."
Zuko flushed. "You are," he muttered, though the grumpiness had softened.
Jet grinned and tapped the end of Zuko's nose. "I think the pearls would be cute, though," he mused. "Maybe a red gingham dress..."
This time, the pillow hit Jet square in the face.
***
Title: And After That, Maybe a Movie?
Word count: 450
Pairing: Jet/Zuko
Rating: PG
Summary: Us outcasts have to stick together. Which means kissing, essentially.
***
He's looking out at the water -- the gray mist and the pale ribbon of the city's outer wall. He's thinking about what Jet has said, and what he said in reply. Maybe he is an outcast. Maybe he'll need more than the company of his uncle to survive in a world that doesn't want him. His eyes roam over the still-distant cliffs, but they hold no easy answers.
The moment breaks with the warm weight of a hand on his shoulder. He turns to ask what Jet thinks he's doing, but the other boy's face already fills his field of vision, brown eyes half-lidded and lips slightly parted. Jet presses their mouths together, and for a moment Zuko is too startled to react, his senses overwhelmed by the smell of someone else's hair and skin, mingling with the salt of sea water.
Then he thinks, This is a kiss, and his hand comes up to push against Jet's chest, forcing him back to a safe distance.
"You can't just...do things like that!" he splutters as he wipes at his mouth.
Jet smiles, although even Zuko can see his feelings are bruised. "It seemed like the right time," he says.
"Well it wasn't." Zuko scowls at his hands, now gripping the railing. I didn't think it would be like that, he thinks, and he can feel his face grow hot. He had pictured how his first time might be, alone in his bunk at night with little else to occupy his mind. He had pictured sweeping a girl into his arms, her gasp of surprise and how her soft lips might taste. Or a childhood friend rushing to meet him at his homecoming, swept up into his arms. None of his imaginings had involved a rough, cocky stranger on the deck of a ferry, or the feel of stubble against his cheek.
"Next time I'll let you lead, then," says Jet. He runs his fingers back through his hair and returns the stalk of wheat to his mouth. It quivers as he laughs. "Maybe I'll buy you dinner first?"
Zuko doesn't know how to reply. This isn't how he'd thought it would be.
The ferry slips through the still, dark water, and Zuko watches the cliffs grow closer. Jet stays beside him, and though he doesn't move to touch Zuko again, Zuko imagines he can feel the heat of his body. It's a strange new awareness, and not entirely welcome. But as they stand together at the railing, he allows himself to wonder how it would be to grow used to it.
***