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"I shoot square six he", Prince Zuko enunciated with all the exaggerated care of the hopelessly sloshed.
"Hit," Jee sighed. He crossed off the square and drew a thick line of coal through yet another ship. "Light cruiser Hishi sunk."
Zuko thumped a fist on the table. At least he didn't whoop, like he had when he sunk Jee's empire-class battleship. That had been a little alarming.
"Give me a status report, Lieutenant."
Jee glowered, but he found himself unable to take much offense at having his face ground into his upcoming defeat at this stupid little game. Today was a good day. In fact, today was such a good day that it could not possibly become a bad day even if the whole Fire Nation archipelago sank into the sea in the next five minutes.
Their ship had limped into the nearest port, in dire need of repairs after their brush with the Avatar. And of course their always-atrocious luck had made the nearest port the one port in the whole damn Earth Kingdom that Zhao happened to be occupying.
Commander Zhao.
By the time they’d cast off again, ship whole and everything back in order, the most negative emotion Jee had been able to muster was a vague sense of disappointment.
The great Commander Zhao had been defeated in Agni Kai. By the brat prince. And Jee had missed it.
But at least he was allowed this little private midnight celebration now. It was a funny affair. Psyched on a cocktail of victory, drink, and anxiety over the Avatar, Zuko was strange and unpredictable company, even more than usual. He’d looked oddly morose a few hours ago, but now he seemed to have decided that he was going to be happy tonight. Or at least, gleeful and drunk and cheering over Jee’s misfortunes, which was as close to happy as he ever really got. Still, Jee would take what he could get. And there would no doubt be even more interesting activities once this embarrassing game was over and done with.
He looked at the paper in his lap. "Reporting, sir. My fleet has been reduced to the patrol boat Tora and the sharktiger-class battleship Taikai, sir. Your fleet consists of the patrol boats Beni and Hotaru, the light cruiser Yuan, and the royal barge Prince Azulon."
Zuko nodded, as if he'd been perfectly aware of all that but just wanted to hear Jee say it. Which was probably the case. He was drunk, but still very much awake.
"Lieutenant, you are losing."
"Yes, sir. I am." Disgracefully so. He hadn't even hit anything in more turns than he could remember. Jee had no idea how he kept missing Zuko's royal barge; it was the biggest thing on the battlefield, at five squares. "Name your prize, sir."
Zuko grinned and took a swig from the bottle of paint stripper standing sentinel between them. They'd dispensed with the cups when he started knocking them over.
"Your belt, Lieutenant."
Jee's fingers were already on the buckle. There weren't many pieces of clothing that were still on his body instead of lying in an ignominious pile at Zuko's knee, and what little he was still wearing could only be taken off in one particular sequence.
"You're having a good day, sir."
Zuko nodded. "Yes. I challenged Zhao to an Agni Kai. And I won." One corner of his mouth curled up. "Sorry. I challenged Commander Zhao to an Agni Kai, and I won."
"Yes, sir. You've mentioned it." About fifteen times by now, and with steadily increasing frequency the drunker he got, but Jee didn't mind. Any defeat of Zhao could never be emphasized enough. He was considering making up a song about it, if Zuko gave him any time for that; now that the Avatar hunt had been graced with an actual living, breathing, and catchable target, the prince seemed determined that he wasn’t going to sleep again until their prey was caught. And that if he wasn’t going to get any rest, then neither should anybody else on his ship.
Jee quickly squashed all thoughts of the Avatar, just in case Zuko would read his mind, be reminded of their quest, and decide that he'd rather go read maps or something instead of celebrate his glorious Agni Kai victory with an evening of highly improper behavior. Wouldn’t want that. Jee folded his belt a few times and offered it up, careful to steer clear of their precious bottle.
Zuko took it and made to drop it on the pile; then he seemed to change his mind and looped the belt over the back of his neck, as if it was a chain of victory.
The amount of clothing he was still wearing was starting to look downright offensive. Jee had started out strong. He'd gotten one of Zuko's boots for a light cruiser at once, and won his shirt for an empire-class battleship almost immediately after that. The easy victories had made him overconfident, and when he managed to down Zuko's sharktiger-class battleship as well, the brat had been so annoyed and despondent that Jee had decided to be merciful and only demanded the royal hair ribbon.
His kindness had been repaid with a rash of bad luck and a fierce counter-attack that soon left him shirtless and with no boots at all. He'd tried to cheat to turn the tide, but Zuko had caught him at it and promptly abused his royal station to grant himself five penalty shots. Those had cost Jee his under-tunic. It had been grossly unfair, and Jee was planning to feel bitter about it for the rest of his natural life.
The situation was steadily creeping towards desperate, there was no denying it. It was midnight already. In a few hours, Jee would have a watch to show up for, and Zuko would inevitably grow tired. He'd had an eventful day, and then he'd eaten a big celebratory dinner with the General before showing up at Jee’s door and promptly starting on the alcohol. At the rate he was going, he was likely to fall asleep on the table sooner than have sex of any description.
So it was imperative that Jee get him naked, fast, but his luck seemed to have deserted him as thoroughly as his clothes. Zuko was stubbornly remaining dressed from the waist down, while the only things still guarding Jee's dignity were one little patrol boat and the sharktiger-class battleship Taikai. The real-life counterpart of which currently happened to be under the command of Zhao himself, and that couldn’t possibly bode well.
"Square four ni."
Yes, Zhao was clearly not interested in saving Jee from a shameful state of pantslessness. "Hit," he sighed.
“Oh, I found another ship?”
“Yes, sir, you did,” Jee snapped. Rather rudely, he supposed, but Zuko was clearly too cheerful to take real offense. “I shoot one ro, sir.”
“Nothing there,” the brat declared, in a tone that Jee would have called sing-songing if it had been anyone else. Zuko put a line on the paper in his lap and seemed to think for a moment on what direction he might go in to best capitalize on his new discovery. He twisted his coal stick in his hand, adding to the film of black dust that was already covering most of his fingers. There were more coal lines on his other hand, the table, his arm, and even a few on his naked chest.
"Five ni."
Damn it, damn it all to Koh. "Hit, sir."
"Not sunk?"
"No, sir."
Zuko's eyes lit up like those of a cat-hawk spotting a very fat rodent. "Is that the Taikai, Lieutenant?"
"Yes, sir." No use denying it. The brat knew Jee didn't have anything else left that was longer than two squares.
"When I sink the Taikai," Zuko announced, "I will order you to take off your pants." He drank from the bottle and pushed it back in Jee's direction.
Jee accepted it. "Oh, sir. You spoiled the surprise." Once, months ago, anything like that coming from Zuko's mouth would have sent Jee into a black rage. Now he could hear the lack of malice behind all the orders, and the awkward attempts at making the sort of jokes and normal conversation that came so naturally to everybody else. The brat didn't really mean to sound like a nasty little dictator. He was just trying to play. Sometimes. When he was having a good spell.
Zuko waved his stick of coal in a hop-hop gesture. "Get on with it, Lieutenant."
"Four chi."
"Miss," Zuko said. He sounded puzzled. "Why do you keep missing all the time?"
Jee took a good swig from the bottle and put it down with a rather loud clang. "I wish I knew, sir. What's your shot?"
"Six ni."
"Hit," Jee sighed.
"Aha!" Zuko thumped the table again. "Take your pants off."
Ho, there. Jee glared. "It's not sunk yet! Sir."
Zuko frowned back. "Yes, it is."
"A sharktiger-class is four squares. Four!" Jee held up the appropriate number of fingers. He had to do a visual check to make sure there were indeed four; his own head was starting to feel rather well-marinated in the paint stripper. "You are drunk. Sir."
"I'm not." Zuko pouted at the paper in his own lap. "Zhao doesn't deserve such a big ship."
Truer words had never been spoken. "I agree, sir. Four squares is definitely too long for Zhao."
Zuko blinked at him for a moment. Then he leered.
"Yeah. Totally out of proportion. He should have two at the very most."
Jee very nearly applauded. He always felt stupidly proud when the brat prince managed to successfully detect and return innuendo. I taught him that.
"Out of proportion indeed, sir," he agreed. "Especially since he's probably down at least another square after you wiped the arena with him today."
Zuko's grin was brief, but a smile lingered on his lips after it. He seemed happy, and tired, but not unpleasantly so; it was the kind of tired that came with a job well done, and good hot food, and hours of good drink and good company. It was such a rare look on him that Jee was almost tempted to just let him keep drinking and playing until he dozed off.
But by tomorrow, the brat would no doubt remember that he still hadn't caught the damned Avatar and forget all about his accomplishments of today. He'd be too busy winding himself up to have a normal conversation with Jee, let alone stop by for any relaxing activities. It was high time to turn this game around so they could get something done tonight. Jee studied the two battlefield maps in his lap, his own a massacre in messy coal lines and Zuko's full of crosses but annoyingly few sunken ships.
"Six nu."
"Missed again," Zuko said, voice thick with glee. "Seven ni."
And there went the Taikai. Jee was rather glad to be rid of it, all in all.
"Hit. Sharktiger-class battleship Taikai sunk."
"Pants now," Zuko ordered at once.
"Yes, sir. Pants," Jee sighed. He clambered to his feet with a certain amount of difficulty, imagined he was disrobing in the communal showers instead of in front of a grinning little demon, and resisted the urge to throw the pants in Zuko’s face.
Zuko accepted them with both hands, solemnly, as if he was a legendary guru and Jee a supplicant who had traveled a thousand miles to bring him this humble offering of pants. “Good, Lieutenant,” he said.
Huffing, Jee sank back into cross-legged pose onto the floor. He was technically supposed to stay on his knees when seated together with a superior officer in this way, but since he was already mostly naked, he wasn’t going to feel bad about making himself comfortable.
“You can thank Zhao and his useless ship, sir.”
The name of his defeated rival instantly conjured yet another smile on Zuko’s face. In the past, any mere mention of Zhao would have sent the prince into a fit of brooding at best, and no doubt they would return to that unhappy state soon. Tonight, however, the man obviously couldn't be called to mind often enough.
"He's Commander Zhao now," Zuko pointed out. "Show some respect, Lieutenant." He used his stick of coal to tap a paper on the table, as if for emphasis. The paper contained a sketchy, badly-proportioned, but still amply recognizable picture of Zhao lying on the ground with his arms and legs flung every which way. Zuko had drawn it a few hours ago while explaining exactly how their duel had ended. His hands weren't steady enough for drawing now, but he'd been adding extra hairs to doodle-Zhao’s sideburns every couple of minutes. The face was looking more like a pin-cushion than a human head.
"Right, sir. I do apologize. I most certainly meant no disrespect whatsoever towards Commander Zhao.”
Zuko snickered. "Fine. It's your turn."
"Five ha, sir," Jee said.
"Miss. Seven ro."
Damn it, this was getting ridiculous. But at least Zuko's sudden and wholly unfair streak of good fortune had apparently failed to locate the tiny patrol boat that represented Jee’s loincloth. It looked very small among the slaughter of crosses and lines.
"Miss. One ri," Jee ground out.
"Miss," Zuko said. He sounded a little morose about it. He was absently plucking at his own pants with one hand, as if he was just waiting for an excuse to take them off. "Eight nu."
A shiver ran through Jee as he drew a cross right next to his poor little patrol boat. That was close. "Miss. Nine ha."
Now Zuko was starting to look downright disappointed. "Miss..."
It was very, very hard not to set the paper aflame in disgust.
"This is impossible! You have a five-square ship on there! I should have hit it ten times already," Jee growled. He did not whine, most certainly not. He was too old to act like a sore loser about some childish guessing game. He was just frustrated because he was still playing at least three watch bells after he’d been planning to start having sex, that was all.
At least someone was clearly enjoying Jee's not-tantrum. Zuko was snickering again.
"It's not my fault that you can't find my royal barge, Lieutenant."
Jee stared at him. Zuko blinked, once, twice, and then tipped back and mostly out of view onto the floor, emitting that hoarse chuckling that apparently passed for mirth in some royal quarters. It sounded completely unnatural, but it was catchy; Jee felt the corners of his mouth start twitching all by themselves. He had to take a few very deep breaths to keep his own laughter in.
Then he thought about all the fun he was going to have in the next couple of days, working the words “royal barge” into normal conversations with other people present and watching the brat turn crimson. Then he realized that he was actually worrying about doing something so undignified as laugh out loud while he was sitting on the floor in his loincloth, drunk and losing a game made for ten-year-olds. Jee gave in. Of course he had a great deal more experience than Zuko at pretending to be sober when he was the very opposite of, but that didn’t mean he had to.
It took them a while to surface, and quite a bit longer before they could look each other in the eyes again without starting all over. Finally, Jee managed to calm down with a few gulps of paint stripper. Drinking even more was hardly going to help in the long run, of course, but it did wonders as a stopgap measure.
He pushed the bottle at Zuko, slowly and carefully, and then took another deep breath to cool down. Alcohol tended to warm firebenders up a little too quickly, and staving off the inner heat got more difficult as time wore on.
"You're hiding your royal barge very well, sir. But an experienced officer of the Fire Navy always perseveres."
For a moment, Zuko looked like he was going to fall over again, but he kept it together and took a swig from the bottle. He spluttered just a bit when a lock of his loose hair fell in his face.
"I hope so,” he said, clearly trying to sound all business. His good cheek was a bright pink. “With what I pay you, you should be able to find one royal barge that's right under your nose."
"Do you have any complaints about my performance, sir?"
Zuko smiled and tucked the hair behind an ear. He looked unnervingly sweet for a moment. "No. Four chi."
"Miss.” Jee studied his paper closely, blinking against the haze of alcohol that was making his vision blur. He was going to lose the game, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least take the royal barge with him. There were only three possible locations left on the grid where a five-square ship could be hiding… No, four.
“Four ni," he tried.
Zuko blinked at his paper. His eyebrow shot up.
"Oh, you have a hit."
Yes. Finally. "The royal barge, sir?"
If General Iroh could see that horribly lewd grin on his precious young nephew’s face, he just might weep. "Possibly, Lieutenant."
Jee looked at Zuko’s face, at the glistening sheen of sweat on the brat’s exposed biceps, and at his own belt, still slung over Zuko’s neck and dangling over his chest. It had shifted while Zuko was on the floor; the buckle was now resting exactly over his right nipple.
Jee decided this game was stupid and he was done with it. He leaned forward.
"If the royal barge is willing to stop resisting, sir, perhaps we can move on to its surrender? I see no need for further hostilities."
Zuko dissolved into chuckles again. The brat clearly hadn't heard a lot of good puns in his life, if these were so hilarious. It was probably the drink.
"Sir, your answer,” Jee insisted.
One last hiccup, and then Zuko sat up straight and tried to look serious. The buckle was still on his nipple. "The royal barge isn’t just going to surrender. You only got one little hit in. You need to negotiate."
Jee nodded. "Yes, sir, there will be vigorous negotiations first." He rubbed his hands together to warm them up. Then he reached out, took the buckle between his thumb and forefinger, and pulled to make the heavy leather slide along Zuko’s neck and chest.
A slow shiver seemed to travel from Zuko’s head to his arms and shoulders, then down to where Jee couldn’t see.
"Oh. Well. In that case, you have permission to come over here and claim the royal barge."
Jee let go of the buckle. It fell back and hit Zuko’s bare midriff, making him jump a little. "If you would care to move the royal barge off the floor and into my bunk, sir? We could be negotiating for quite a while."
When he got up, Zuko tried to follow, but it didn’t seem to work terribly well. Jee held out a hand; Zuko took it and let himself be pulled up. He stumbled a little, cursing and shaking the one foot that still had a boot on it.
Then his fingers tightened on Jee's wrist, and something like puzzled alarm crept into his eyes. "None of this ever happened, Lieutenant."
Uh oh. "No, sir," Jee agreed, quickly combing through his drink-addled mind for a good distraction. "But your victory over Zhao most certainly did happen."
"Commander Zhao!", Zuko crowed, all worries forgotten. He took a step closer to Jee and grinned. "I won."
"Yes, sir, you won." And you’ll be calling a different name in a very short while.
Another step closer, and Zuko had to tilt his head to keep looking Jee in the eyes. “I demand a prize.”
He demanded. That was adorable, at least when he did it while half naked and so far gone that he needed to hold Jee’s arm to keep from falling over. His blackened fingers were drawing coal streaks all the way from Jee’s elbow to his shoulder.
“Only one prize, sir?”
“I get more?” The surprised eagerness in Zuko’s voice made Jee smile. He did like opportunities to be generous.
“It was a very great victory, sir.”
Zuko chuckled. “The size of a royal barge.”
Jee felt an odd, inexplicable urge to give the brat a big hug. He was so grateful this day had happened. “I will never let you hear the end of this,” he promised.
A slow, wobbly scowl tried to form on Zuko’s face. It didn’t quite succeed; he just looked confused.
“I am in command of this ship, and you will let me hear the end when I want to hear it,” he intoned, poking Jee’s chest repeatedly with his free hand. He stopped mid-motion with two fingers pressed against Jee’s sternum. Then he looked up. “The end of what?”
Jee dipped his head so that their lips brushed together. “Nothing, sir, if I can help it.”