Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown. If I did I would have an island where all the hot men have to walk around in tight, shiny pants.

Warning: this story contains m x m relationships. If you are not comfortable with same sex material don't go any further. You've been warned, kiddies.

Warning: minor suggestive themes, nothing explicit

Okay, I still don't know what this is, so I guess we'll all find out together, jah?

Enjoy. :)

Chapter 2

The gut-twisting horror never left Jack. He could recall when Raimundo had let him go, and as always, the mesh of colour rising to grasp him. He hated that deliberate absence (no more than a heartbeat), which turned his flight into a leap of faith. That sudden, mortal, rushing terror could never be forgotten.

And neither could the gush of unconditional joy when Raimundo came between him and that. Which was exactly what Raimundo had intended. He had been sorry after, knowing his wildness had a price, but only after. Only when Jack was his. Even so, even after being placed in harm's way, it was very hard to stay angry.

Jack gazed at his door. Rai was the wind; boundaries like walls and phones and doors didn't have any weight with him. Where could he go that Raimundo couldn't? The wind would follow him everywhere. He sighed and turned off the shower. Condensation pooled against the mirror and the window as Jack stepped out, safely cocooned in a towel. He imagined he was back in the sky, prickles of rain settling on his skin as the misty innards of a cloud broke before Raimundo's power and they hurtled upwards toward the setting sun.

It was romantic, Jack supposed, at least from far away. When the primal whirl of temperature and pressure didn't shape the sky into a shifting, many-faced treachery. It was a land Jack couldn't navigate. Too high even for his heli-pack. If only Raimundo could control himself and not be 'one' with everything up there, things would be fine, but he couldn't and he always would be. The only thing that kept Rai anchored to the ground was soccer.

He wiped the mirror clear and scowled.

"Uh-oh," the Brazilian grinned at the frosty silence, "am I still in trouble?"

"Yes, now go away," Jack replied, as if Rai wasn't in his bathroom and he wasn't in a towel.

It didn't work. He wasn't surprised though, because it never worked. If he put up resistance Raimundo would just get around it, somehow, inevitably, and be all the more excited for being denied. Jack watched his reflection as arms dragged him away from the sink. The open door let cold air flood the room and his skin rose in gooseflesh. He had to be careful now. Raimundo was as unpredictable as his element, especially when his friends weren't around to rein him in.

No, no, no. Not here, not now.

"Stop. I've gotta get dressed."

"Now?"

Jack stared at him. "Yes, now. My parents will be home soon."

Raimundo shrugged. "So what? I'll leave the door open, I'll hear them."

"Raiii!" Jack rubbed his forehead. "I'm not going to have this argument right now. I'm getting ready, and you're going home."

A stubborn chin and raised head emphasized his petulant "no."

For once Wuya's absence brought Jack regret. He would have to deny Raimundo on his own terms, and it was a lot harder. Wuya was a danger, she was another unpredictable thing. Jack wasn't unpredictable. Raimundo could anticipate him, just as he did now.

"Because you're gonna fight with them, I know you will, and then you won't have to wait for me to come over. I'll be here."

Jack buckled his pants and reached for his red shirt, expression carefully blank. When he looked at Raimundo it was with feigned nonchalance. "Don't be weird," he pointed to the door, "now get lost, seriously, I've got stuff to do."

"You're clowny act doesn't work on me." Raimundo picked up Jack's brush and rearranged his hair. "Besides, we both know that's not true."

"You make it sound like a superpower," Jack mocked, half-bent putting on his shirt, and then, more quietly: "and I’m not a clown."

Raimundo didn't flinch. "I know that," he murmured, though that had been his first impression: a loud-mouthed wannabe villain with red hair and a painted face. A clown with a gimmick. That also been the reason why Rai had sought after him. Living in the circus nurtured an appreciation for oddities. And Jack, if nothing else, was an oddity. Everything "Boy" in reverse. His bumbling naiveté hiding a deep, sulky resignation.

The quiet between them was tender. Jack gave Raimundo a look. "I don't always fight them, y'know. You don't have to stay."

"I know."

A door slammed shut, voiceless, unpaternal. The only 'hello' Jack had known. Raimundo stood with one brow raised, and then vanished down the hallway, knowing where Jack's room was, where the one unlocked window was, where freedom awaited—with wind and birds singing and sunshine. The silence in the house was more palpable than ever before, its emptiness no longer an excuse.

"Hey Rai…" Jack followed the breezy absence, the air still swirling. He shivered in remembrance of the air Raimundo knew, of its vastness and terrifying primeval freedom. "Hey," he slipped into his room and shut the door behind him so mom and dad wouldn't hear. The window was open and a breeze threw loose paper to the ground. Raimundo was gone.

Impatient green eyes suddenly peered from outside. Raimundo bent down and offered his hand through the opened pane. "You coming or what?"

"Yeah." Jack accepted his arm and was hoisted from his bedroom into the sky. He screamed when the ground fell away beneath him, but this time he wasn't scared.

onwards!

Long live Rai/Jack:3