Only If For a Night(MxM)

Fight Me

ONE WEEK LATER

Northern Heights academy for the gifted was incredibly lucky that Jet wasn't the one who picked Zuko up from school that day. Zuko's other security guard, DeMarco, texted Jet.

DeMarco: Kid Agni got in a fistfight today.

Jet: What? Is he alright?

Jet was at the Mexican restaurant that his mom owned when he got the message. He dropped everything and rushed out the back door of the hot kitchen. The smell of peppers and hot grease followed him out.

DeMarco: he's fine. Busted lip and bruised cheek. I don't think he has a broken nose.

Jet was suddenly overwhelmingly thankful that none of the prep school kids knew how to fight like the kids he grew up with, if that had been the case, Jet would be on his way to the hospital.

The Bronx was about a half-hour drive without traffic to the academy, but they were worlds apart.

DeMarco: the kids requesting you. I told him it was your day off, but he insisted that I ask you.

Jet hesitated. He got maybe one full day off of work every two or three weeks. He had a date that night with a hot girl from the cell phone store. He was supposed to help his Ma out with the cooking for another hour.

But he wanted to go.

Zuko asked for him.

Damn it all to hell. He thought and ran back into the busy restaurant.

" Mama, " he called out.

His stout mother yelled back from the kitchen.

Their exchange was brief and spoken in such broken Spanish and English; it was hard for any listener to understand. The Juarez had their own dialect, and only the Juarez parents and their kids could speak it.

His mother was annoyed that he had to leave but understood. She made him take Zuko some of her 'get well soon' food, which was authentic Mexican tacos and a big hug. Jet rolled his eyes at the last part. No way in hell was that happening.

Jet couldn't legally explain what happened to Zuko; she didn't even know who her son worked for. She knew it was for a teenage boy, and she knew that his safety had sort of become somewhat personal to Jet.

Jet had accidentally let it slip that Zuko had gotten hurt, but he hadn't said his name, which almost also came out of his mouth.

Jet scolded himself as he rushed to his motorcycle, pushing the helmet onto his head. He had worked for the Agni family for over a year and hadn't slipped to anyone anything about them, and he almost compromised the safety of his client in a crowded restaurant. The only upside was that it was almost said to his mom, who wouldn't have given a flying rat's ass who it was.

Luck was on his side that evening as he sped through traffic that wasn't as bad as it could be.

It still took him close to an hour to get to the Agni's estate. He flashed his security clearance to the scanner at the front gate and slowly drove up the asphalt driveway. His motorcycle sounded uncomfortably loud in the stale New York air.

Jet parked the bike in the garage and quickly walked into the house.

The sitting room was empty, everything was empty, and Jet was starting to be concerned when he checked the last place, the study, and found them. DeMarco was next to the door, reading a book that Jet wasn't even sure DeMarco could understand. He started when he saw Jet, half jumping out of the overstuffed chair until he realized that it wasn't a threat.