Falling

By: CrystallicSky

Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.

Warnings: Language, homosexuality, implications of sexual situations, etc.

Twenty minutes.

Compared to the usual five he was allowed to simply relax and enjoy himself before the persistent grating screech started up again, a full twenty seemed like something of a miracle. However, Chase was unable to call forth any gratitude for the longer reprieve.

This may have had something to do with the fact that it hadn't even been Wuya he'd slept with on this occasion—neither she nor her irritating voice should even be present.

Unfortunately, it was hard to refute the reality of the purple ghost in his kitchen utterly destroying his post-sex tranquility with her mean and ugly scowl.

"What are your intentions?!" Wuya snapped at him.

Chase stared. "I was intending on having toast," he replied after a moment, gesturing to the room around them, "but I get the strangest feeling that isn't going to happen."

"Playing dumb is hardly your game, Chase," she hissed. "I meant Jack!"

"Well, of course. Spicer is the master at that particular tactic. It simply isn't fair to pit my meager skills against his."

If looks could kill, there would be two ghosts in the kitchen. As it was, there remained only one impotently angry one and a warlord trying very hard not to laugh in her face.

"You fucked him!" Wuya growled.

Chase spared a brief thought to Jack, probably still passed out in his bed. "Yes," he said coolly, "I did. What is your point?"

"What are you planning?" the ghostly witch demanded to know.

Chase frowned. "You assume I'm planning something."

"Why else would you have saddled yourself with Jack?" asked Wuya. "Knowing you, it's gotta be something big."

"Most things about me are," Chase agreed, raising an eyebrow, "but 'saddled'? Really, Wuya, I had sex with him. I hardly put a ring on his finger."

There was a pause where Wuya only looked at Chase…and then burst out cackling.

It was enough to startle a glare out of the overlord, but Wuya was unaffected by the look.

"Is that really what you think, Chase?" she practically snickered, hovering just in front of him. "Have you met him?"

Chase chose not to dignify that with a response. It was just as well, since Wuya seemed to need no prompting to continue.

"Jack has stalked you for years—do you think he even understands the concept of 'just sex' as it applies to you?" She smirked. "No, Chase, Jack clings; always has, really. I must've overestimated you if you actually think he'll be so easy to get rid of after you gave him exactly what he wanted!"

Chase bristled. "No, Wuya, I'd say you underestimate me," he said curtly. "You really believe I wouldn't have accounted for Spicer's persistence?"

The grin slipped from Wuya's ghostly face. "You did?"

"Of course I did. In fact, I'm counting on it." Chase straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. "You want to know my plans for him, witch? I intend to distract him."

"Why?"

Chase shot her a perfectly condescending look. "Wuya. He is a nuisance at the best of times and a train wreck at the worst. Has it escaped your notice that his failures have a tendency to spill over into the work of true villains like ourselves?"

Wuya answered slowly, a consequence of the conversational whiplash. "I…of course. Screwing up is what he does. Why would he stop at screwing up his own plans?"

"Exactly," Chase agreed, "and you know that he only gets worse at it when left to his own devices."

"His mind wanders too much," the witch acknowledged. "At least when he works with someone else, he's forced to try and focus on one thing for more than five minutes."

"And at the moment, Spicer isn't allied with anyone. Not the ideal climate for Heylin with anything important in the works."

Wuya perked. "You are planning something!"

Chase offered her a wry grin. "Whether or not that's the case, you aren't involved. But you should probably thank me—I'm biting quite the bullet here."

Huffing out a laugh, Wuya shook her head. "Thank you," she echoed. "Of course: Chase Young, the altruist, always ready to sacrifice himself for his fellows."

Chase rolled his eyes. "Did I say helping you was my motive in providing a distraction for Jack?" he demanded. "I'm helping myself first and foremost. That he'll also be too busy to interfere with you is merely a latent effect. A little gratitude still wouldn't go awry, being that no one else was going to step up to the plate on this one."

"Gratitude. Because your 'distraction tactics' are sounpleasant for you."

"Another thing I most definitely didn't say," Chase smirked. "If I'm to throw myself to the metaphorical wolves, why shouldn't I find something in it to make it worth my while?"

"Maybe because it's Jack?" Wuya wondered, sounding haughty and very certain as she continued, "You can't find him attractive."

"Can't I?" Chase looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "I seem to recall finding you attractive at one time. You should know better than anyone that my tastes run towards the unique."

"…at one time?" Again, Wuya floated right up to Chase, probably in an attempt to be intimidating. It didn't seem very effective. "You don't find me attractive now?"

Chase sneered. "You're a ghost, Wuya," he pointed out.

"When I'm not a ghost!"

"Ah," said the warlord. "In that case, still no, I'm not particularly attracted to you."

"So what," she snapped, "all those nights in your bed meant nothing?"

Chase frowned at her. "Yes. You were very convenient, but I'm hardly about to put a ring on your finger, either. I'm beginning to think that if anyone has trouble understanding the concept of 'just sex,' it's you, not Spicer."

Apparently, Wuya didn't appreciate the comment and her voice returned to the irritating screech Chase so loathed. "And you think Jack is a better choice than me?!"

Chase only shrugged. "As entertaining as your…lackluster performances have been as of late? I don't have much to go on yet, but Jack's enthusiasm covered his inexperience well so again, I would have to say yes."

Wuya reared back, sputtering incoherently in a strange combination of shock and outrage.

"Not to mention," Chase continued, "that he happens to have a physical body where you, currently, do not. Though I'm not sure how much leverage a body would give you in a competition: he isa great deal younger than you."

There was half a beat of silence before Wuya quite literally shrieked in sheer fury, probably cursing her incorporeal form that she couldn't even lash out against him.

Chase was incredibly appreciative that instead of trying, she simply took the hint and vanished. She would be back to annoy him eventually (she always would), but in his line of work especially, the dragonlord had learned to take what measure of peace he could.

In the wake of said peace, Chase resumed his waylaid goal of procuring toast and silently praised his own silver tongue.

In all honesty, very little thought and planning had gone into the decision to have sex with Jack Spicer. It had been a spur of the moment thing, a strange impulse followed through on short notice with no real plot or greater motive behind it.

These were not altogether uncommon, despite his reputation as a schemer and a mastermind. It just so happened that his pursuit of the odd whim now and again was very rarely brought to attention and when it was…

Well. That particular scenario had played out only moments ago: it was never very difficult for his quick wit to rationalize any of his less than well thought out actions. It probably also helped that it had been literally centuries since the last time Chase Young had stumbled over a lie or an obfuscation.

Of course now, leaning up against a counter and beginning on his fourth piece of toast, it occurred to Chase that what he'd said to Wuya wasn't really a lie.Aside from the implication that he'd fully meant to sleep with Jack, nothing he'd told her was untrue.

The explosive nature of Spicer's failures was practically legendary in Heylin circles and the only thing that had ever seemed to insulate the ensuing damage was to give the self-proclaimed genius someone to work with. Jack could almost color inside the lines when he had someone to answer to, but no one had bothered to take up that mantle as of late and the overflow of mishaps was…actually quite impressive, in a way.

Usually, it was Wuya who took on Spicer-sitting duty. It had fallen to her fairly naturally being that she had unleashed him onto the Heylin just as he had unleashed her from her prison, and very few other villains were willing to collaborate with her given her track record of betrayals.

That being the case, Chase found it especially odd that Wuya wasn't currently attempting to make use of Jack given her physical state—not having her own body had always defaulted her to working with him in the past.

Still, the witch hadn't been wrong about Spicer's tendency to cling which meant Chase was probably stuck with him for a bit. He had little interest in doing evil with him (or rather, what Jack thought of as evil), but providing himself as a 'distraction' would hardly be a chore.

Chase grinned to himself in the silence of the kitchen, fondly remembering the look on Wuya's face when he'd told her that Spicer was a better lay than her. It was all the more amusing for the fact that it was yet another truth: a clumsy, inept virgin boy ending up superior to a skilled and seasoned femme fatale like Wuya.

The dragonlord decided to put it down to the sheer novelty of the experience, but he couldn't deny that sex with Jack had been interesting or that he would do it again.

Yes. Yes, he would do it again, was going to, as a matter of fact. There was no better way to determine Jack's worth as a replacement for Wuya than by trials.

A thought called the nearest of his minions to him and within a minute, a jaguar prowled silently into the room.

"Diol," Chase greeted the cat. "Has Spicer left yet?"

I don't believe so, master, Diol answered. Would you like him to be removed?

Chase shook his head and pushed off of the counter. "Not yet. I was simply curious as to his whereabouts."

In that case, he hasn't left your bedroom.

"Excellent." Absently, he tossed what remained of his toast to Diol, who caught it with a sharp snap of teeth and the crunch of bread. "Until further notice, he is to be treated as an indefinite guest rather than an intruder."

The cat blinked yellow eyes at Chase. 'Indefinite guest' was a familiar enough classification, but one that had only ever been used in regards to those who provided a…specific service in the (relatively) long-term. Wuya had been one, until she lost her body again. Master?

"Merely trying something new, Diol," Chase replied, practically radiating a devil-may-care attitude. "If he's not up to snuff, your orders will change."

And with that, Chase cheerily dismissed his underling and headed back to his room to properly test Spicer's worth.

As it turned out, Jack would end up holding the indefinite guest designation for much longer than expected.

Granted, 'expected' in this scenario had only really covered a period of a few days—the typical amount of time it took for Chase to tire of having a novelty in his bed—but that moment of boredom simply didn't come.

Leave it to Jack Spicer to do the unexpected, he supposed, though for once, he was glad of it. It had been a very long time since he'd had a sexual partner of any quality.

Whatever else could be said about him, Jack was nothing if not enthusiastic and willing to throw himself into a situation wholeheartedly. To Chase's very literal pleasure, this same attitude bled over into the bedroom and made the young man a very…passionate lover, to say the least.

It was a nice change for Chase, who had grown used to a different type of lover entirely: the selfish kind. To the dragonlord's great irritation, many seemed to use a proposition from an attractive and powerful man as an excuse not to try very hard in bed.

At one point, it had pissed Chase off enough to subtly pry an explanation out of one of the worst offenders.

"Well, look at you," a very drunk Wuya had slurred at him that night. "You're practically the avatar of sex—sex personified! What'm I supposed to do to you that you haven't had a million times before? Better, probably!"

It was only the stroke to his ego that had kept him from growling at her or storming out, instead only muttering, "That's no excuse."

As far as Chase was concerned, it still wasn't an excuse, especially now that he had Jack to hold up as a proper example.

Spicer had nothing in the way of sexual experience barring his encounters with Chase, who could, if so inclined, write encyclopedias on the topic. By Wuya's lazy logic, he had more excuse than anyone to just lie there and enjoy the things Chase did to him.

Jack did enjoy himself (quite loudly at times, which was another ego-stroke) but he would never just lie there. He surprised Chase with an unexpectedly careful attention to detail instead, which he put to use picking up technique from his better-traveled partner, flavoring it with his own unique style, and consistently altering his overall performance; taking all the right cues from Chase as to what he liked and what he didn't.

Spicer used his inexperience as an excuse, too, but one to learn instead of to slack. His consideration in that respect had earned him several well-deserved weeks of serving his evil idol and Jack was shaping up to be a model student.

In more than the one respect, actually.

"Ow! Easy on the arm…"

Chase pulled back, obligingly lifting his hand and raising an eyebrow at the dark purple bruise that was uncovered. "I barely touched you. Tell me that was preexisting—even you can't be that delicate."

Jack made a face and rubbed at his bare bicep. "That was already there," he confirmed. "I, uh…earlier…with the…yeah."

"Earlier. When you made yourself a convenient punching bag for the Xiaolin."

"Made myself—" Jack flushed and frowned. "It's my fault they beat me up?!"

"Hard to think any differently when you set yourself up for it," Chase dismissively replied. His fingers then found their way beneath the hem of Jack's shirt.

They were quickly paused by a white hand around his wrist, the grip light but firm.

Chase stopped and looked at Jack. "You wouldn't have come if you felt too injured for sex," he said rather than asked.

Jack shook his head. "No," he said, "that's not… What did you mean? How do I…set myself up?"

Ah. Another of these conversations.

Changing gears easily, Chase removed Jack's hand. "Your bragging: it gets you into trouble."

"How?" Jack pushed.

"I'm sure you've heard the saying. Something about mouths writing checks?" He gave Jack a teasing grin. "Aside from conveniently providing your opponent with a time advantage, you're also making it that much more humiliating for yourself when you lose."

"IfI lose," Jack insisted with something just a tad too serious to be called a pout. "I've been winning a lot more lately."

And that, Chase would give him, but nonetheless, "When you lose. Your boasting has led directly to failure one hundred percent of the time. Are you denying that particular statistic?"

Jack's mouth flattened into a hard line. "No…evidence to refute it," he sheepishly admitted. "So…what?"

There was no need to elaborate on the question. This was hardly the first time Chase had provided a critique on Jack's villainy and hardly the first time Jack had asked for suggestions.

"Mind your tongue a bit more," he offered simply. "Stay focused on the moment instead of letting your mouth get ahead of you. Save the bluster for afterwards, if it's still called for."

Jack still looked uncertain, so he added, "I'm not saying you have to be modest, but an attempt at realism would serve you well."

"Because you've never bragged about anything in your life, right?"

Chase laughed. "I have, but when I brag, I have the skill to back it up. You?" He lightly flicked Jack in the nose. "Not so much."

Jack snorted and rubbed his nose, but there was a smile in his eyes and an ease in his body language that told Chase he took no real offense. Like the other tidbits of advice he had given the youth in the past few weeks, this would be taken seriously, slept on, and probably acted upon fairly soon.

That was another thing Chase liked about Jack—that his eagerness to learn wasn't only relegated to sex. That he was willing to listen to Chase's various suggestions and take initiative to improve exponentially lessened the vague feeling of embarrassment that used to accompany the thought of sleeping with Spicer.

Speaking of.

Chase settled a hand on Jack's hip, leaning in again with a smirk. "Now, if we're finished talking…?"

Jack met his smirk with an easy grin. "I know I am," he said. "I can think of…hmm, maybe six better things to do with my mouth."

"Only six?"

Jack chuckled, lips already parted to deliver some kind of retort.

The click of claws on the polished marble floor interrupted whatever he had been about to say.

Master, you have a visitor, a young lioness politely declared. She took note of Jack and his proximity to the overlord. Shall I tell her to come back later?

"Her?" There weren't all that many female visitors to the Land of Nowhere.

Katnappé, master, the cat explained. She claims to have a business proposition for you.

Well, Chase couldn't deny that he was curious about that. "I will see her," he decided. "Eshe, escort Spicer to the bath in the meantime."

Jack frowned at him, clearly confused. Naturally, as Chase's warriors could only be heard by others when they made themselves heard. "Chase? What's up?"

"Nothing of importance," Chase assured him. "I merely have to see to something. I had assumed you might wish to occupy yourself until I'm finished."

"Oh." Jack seemed to relax a bit at that information, sparing a glance to the lioness coming up beside him. "Are we still gonna…?"

"After dinner, if you plan on staying that long." Never let it be said that Chase was at all a churlish host.

Jack laughed. "What else would I be doing?"

A fair enough point. Jack still had little in the way of a social life. Even so, Chase smiled and bid him an amiable farewell, not at all missing the mischievous promise of later sparkling in Jack's red eyes.

He would most definitely savor the wait, but for now, Chase had a second guest to deal with.

He materialized into his throne just in time to catch said guest on her knees, trying to tempt Chase's second-in-command away from his post with baby-talk and a fish-shaped hunk of processed something.

"You'll need a more attractive lure than a cat treat to sway Diol," he declared, unable to keep from flashing a bit of fang at the way Katnappé leapt to her feet and turned red as Jack's hair. "He was a soldier once. I think you'll find him more disciplined than the average house pet."

"Um…yes, I can see that," the blonde girl muttered, obviously trying to buy a moment or two to regain her composure. "When was he a soldier?"

There was no real interest in the question, but Chase was in a fairly good mood and feeling generous. He'd allow Ashley her time. "He was part of an elite military class several hundred years ago." He paused to stroke Diol's sleek black fur as he came to sit at his overlord's side. "They were called 'jaguar warriors'—I found the best of them and made it a more literal title."

And what an honor that was, to become a true child of Tezcatlipoca and serve under your command, master, Diol purred back. Katnappé startled in the otherwise quiet of the room, which could only mean he was projecting.

"Yes, of course. I'm simply glad you were easily disabused of the notion that it was Quetzalcoatl you were serving."

Well, your lizard form does have a conspicuous lack of feathers, was the glib reply and Chase managed to make a noncommittal noise instead of a laugh.

Dignity was important with an audience, after all.

"In any case," he spoke, turning his attention back to the young lady in a (literal) catsuit, "I'm told you have a proposition for me."

"Actually," said Katnappé, "I had more of a negotiation in mind."

"Oh?" That was intriguing. "What kind of negotiation?"

"I have a little something in the works," she admitted. "I don't need your involvement, but—"

"But I have something you want," Chase concluded. "I see. And just what is it that you're hoping to be loaned or given?"

"Loaned, thank you," Katnappé responded quickly. "I really don't think I could put up with Jack on a regular basis."

In response to the name, Chase blinked, but his confusion was not otherwise expressed. For clarification, he queried, "Spicer?"

Katnappé continued with a nod, as though it were a perfectly normal request. "I don't want to bore you with any specifics, but I could really use a hand or two on the tech side of things and everybody knows Jack's got the best pair in the business."

Chase was still, to his own irritation, vaguely perplexed. "And you're here consulting me for…?"

"Your permission," she said. "You know, to borrow him for awhile."

Which still didn't make all that much sense, as far as Chase was concerned. "What makes you think you need my permission?" he asked, keeping his tone devoid of any sort of inflection. Ashley most certainly did not need to know that he had no idea what she was on about.

Nonetheless, the question seemed to throw the girl, who suddenly looked uncertain. "…um. Because he's one of yours… Right?"

And that was where it all clicked in Chase's head. One of his: Katnappé believed Jack to be his underling!

It was a ridiculous enough notion that the overlord may have laughed outright had it not also been somewhat offensive.

Jack Spicer was a good sex partner, certainly—and not to devalue him in that respect, but it was about the only thing he was good at. He was a subpar fighter and a mediocre villain at best. Like Katnappé had said, his skill with technology was unparalleled, but it was hardly enough to make up for his other…defects.

The implication that Chase's 'relationship' with him was more than a simple arrangement was both irksome and just a tad distasteful.

"One of mine," he echoed her words. "What led you to that assumption?"

"It's not my assumption!" the blond was quick to clarify. "It's just…that's been the word on the street, and I thought…"

Chase gave her a hard look, less of an invitation to continue than a demand to.

She complied. "Jack's been…less of an embarrassment lately," Ashley explained. "We've all seen it…seen him actually winning a Showdown every couple of weeks instead of just getting his butt kicked all the way back home. He's getting better, and…"

There was a noticeable pause where Katnappé shot him a hesitant glance, though she quickly continued. "Well. It's not really a secret that he's been hanging out around here a lot. If anybody could set him straight, it'd be you."

Flattery. An excellent tactic for appeasing a warlord and it did its job well enough. Instead of growling at her for her assumptions, Chase merely crossed one leg over the other and bowed his head in a small gesture of agreement.

"You are correct on one point," he declared. "Spicer's improvements, however minor, are most likely due to my influence. Nonetheless…"

Chase had been about to explain to the obviously misguided young woman the true nature of his association with Jack. Given but another minute or so to speak, he probably would have told her that his only connection to the albino in question was sex and that he was more than content for it to stay that way—and while she was at it, could she please pass on to the other Heylin that he was not Spicer's keeper, thank you very much.

Katnappé did not give him that minute. "He's not," she interrupted. "Not yours, I mean."

Though it was almost exactly what Chase had planned to say, her tone gave him pause. There was something in it…something that sent him from 'calm' to 'wary' in the space of a second.

"You sound excited," he responded slowly. "Of what concern is Spicer's current status to you?"

"He has his uses," Katnappé responded brightly. "He's hardly the cream of the crop as far as allies go, but he's not the bottom of the barrel anymore. If he's on the market…" She grinned, showing off her false fangs. "It's something I'd be interested in, yes."

That sounded much too simple a reason. Mere interest, in Jack Spicer, no less, could not have gotten his hackles up so quickly.

"Really?" Chase wondered aloud. "And yet you said only moments ago that you could barely tolerate him."

The blond woman shrugged. "I don't have to like him to work with him," she noted. A moment later, she added, "Just like you don't have to like him to fuck him."

If she had expected to throw Chase with a statement like that, she was in for a disappointment.

"Jealous, Ashley?" he all but teased.

Katnappé was startled into a laugh. "I thought that might've just been part of the rumors! But you're really…?"

Chase looked at her, carefully while feigning casualness. "It was never a secret."

"Interesting. As for jealous, maybe a little." It was only because he was watching closely that he noticed the inviting tilt of her hip, the coy way she'd cocked her head…and the utterly mean smirk of her lips as she proclaimed, "Jack is pretty cute when he's not a 24/7 loser."

Chase met her gaze and stiffened at the steely glint he saw in her dark eyes. Before he could attempt to process it, a single word skittered through his mind: poacher!

And that was exactly it, wasn't it?

It wasn't that Katnappé had a professional interest in Jack. It wasn't even that she appeared to have a sexual interest in him, as well. It was the principle of the thing that had his hackles up, that made him wary, that irritated him because Katnappé was talking like she wanted to steal Spicer.

Theft was, of course, difficult without ownership and Chase did not own Jack. But when he considered it… didn't he?

Chase had been in association with Spicer for several weeks, going on a month now and in that time, he'd been the one to counsel the youth on all things Heylin. When Jack had questions or wanted input, Chase had been the one to give it to him. When he acted foolishly or made himself a pest, it was Chase who told him so and advised him to correct the behavior. On the sexual side of things, Chase had almost literally taught Jack everything he now knew, the goth's only other teacher being a(n impressive) variety of pornography.

It was true that Spicer was still far from anything spectacular, but he was improving; rapidly, now that Chase cared to think of it.

And of course, now that someone else had done most of the work handling his roughest edges, Katnappé suddenly found an alliance with the self-proclaimed tech-wizard appealing.

Really, there was nothing that disgusted Chase more than the thought of his efforts going towards someone else's benefit.

"Spicer is not one of mine."

Katnappé smirk widened into a grin. "That's great to hear. I'll—"

"Spicer is not one of mine," Chase said again, "officially."

Katnappé frowned.

"Unofficially," he continued, "he has taken on duties befitting both my apprentice and my consort. To hold both positions at once is, as you can imagine, demanding, time-consuming, and exhausting." He returned her mean smile from earlier. "I'm afraid there isn't any room in his current schedule for whatever petty scheme you want him for."

Though she huffed and was clearly agitated, the villainess seemed to at least know better than to try and push Chase on the decision. "I take it that's a 'permission denied'?" she asked instead of arguing, resignation coloring her tone.

"Permission expressly denied, Ms. Rockow."

Ashley's mouth twitched in distaste at hearing her given name over her chosen one, but she refused to otherwise react. She turned to take her leave, stopping only to address Chase once more.

"Jack's off the market. Point taken. But," she warned, "it might be in your best interest to make that common knowledge. I doubt I'm the only one interested and 'unofficially yours' is still 'technically available.'"

Katnappé resumed her exit and Diol left the side of the throne to escort her out at a mental nudge from his master.

Chase did not stay long enough to see the door slam behind her. He was taken by a much more pressing urge to make up for the time he'd wasted with a girl who dressed up like a cat.

It didn't take him long to make his way to the bathing chambers, large and open and utterly extravagant, just the way he'd built them. It was not just an area for getting clean and also featured several other water-related luxuries, such as a pool and an artificial river. This naturally made it an ideal space to entertain guests, few as Chase tended to have.

Between that and the fact of Spicer's unsubtle jealousy of the dragonlord's jacuzzi, it was no surprise that Chase had sent him there to wait—or that he was exactly where Chase expected him to be.

Submerged to his shoulders, Jack didn't react when Chase came to stand before the hot tub in only his black silk clothes. To an untrained observer, he seemed to be asleep, but Chase fully recognized the meditative technique he had idly taught the goth only a week ago.

For one brief moment, the thought made him want to laugh at himself. How had he not seen what he'd been grooming Jack towards?

"Up for company, Spicer?"

Jack's eyes snapped open, obviously startled until he realized who was addressing him. "Chase," he noted happily, greeting his 'unofficial' master. "Absolutely. You take care of whatever business you had?"

"I did," Chase assured him, stripping off his remaining clothing. "Did you enjoy yourself while I was otherwise occupied?"

Jack offered him a crooked smile as he was joined in the magma-heated water. "You know I did," he declared. "I really don't understand how I don't have a hot tub. There's nothing better than this after a painful and humiliating defeat."

The comment drew Chase's attention to the bruises scattered here and there on Jack's body. It was not unusual to see them whenever he got Spicer some degree of naked and he had gotten used to the never-fading, migrating marks. They had never bothered him before, but in this new light of his conversation with Katnappé…

No apprentice of Chase Young, official or otherwise, should be sporting bruises from his enemies.

Though he'd already made up his mind, Chase decided to gauge Jack's feelings on the matter. "Speaking of your humiliating defeats…would you be interested in learning how to avoid them?"

The easy grin dropped off of Jack's face. "I…you mean, like, more coaching or whatever?"

"I was thinking something a little more hands on." He punctuated this with a stroke over Jack's bruised arm, the stain of blood looking even more colorful than it had earlier on the flushed pink of his skin. "There are ways to fight that don't involve getting tossed around like a ragdoll, if you'd be willing to learn them."

Spicer was on him so fast Chase almost wondered if he might not have supernatural speed, too. Chase returned the passionate kiss (albeit with an air of amusement) and tugged Jack closer by the wrist.

Not that he didn't enjoy the impromptu make-out, but Chase deliberately kept the kiss short. He did actually want an answer to his question and if Jack needed his lips and tongue to provide it, then so be it.

"Yes," Jack told him upon pulling back, just a tad sheepish. "I, uh…that'd be awesome, really. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Chase replied. "I'm far more interested in picking up where we left off, first."

Whether he meant prior to Katnappé's visit or just a few seconds earlier didn't particularly matter, because Jack was probably able to guess what he was getting at. He did happen to be in the dragonlord's lap and could undoubtedly feel the hardness pressed up against his thigh.

Sure enough, both lust and understanding flickered across Jack's face and were quickly replaced by a downright impish look. "I thought you said after dinner?"

Chase smirked at him. "Change of plans," he said. "Unless you disapprove?"

Jack laughed and very pointedly did not resist as Chase lifted him out of the water and settled him onto the edge of the tub.

"I totally approve," he decided and leaned back on his hands, giving the other man convenient access to whatever part of him he wanted.

As far as Chase was concerned, the issue was settled and within a week, Jack Spicer had officially begun his apprentice-and-consortship.

Most of that week had been spent as something of a trial period, with Chase giving the goth minor instruction and gauging his reaction to it. If the results were satisfactory, or at least a tiny bit promising, then Chase had intended to follow through with a claim.

Luckily, Spicer took extremely well to the training. As he confessed when this was suspiciously pointed out, Jack had taken several forays into martial arts in the past and was actually fairly educated on the philosophical and intellectual aspects of it. The only thing he'd lacked for those attempts was an experienced teacher (or any teacher at all), which rather explained his continued failure at execution.

The dedication to improvement those research attempts had shown, though—that had impressed Chase. Jack had been given the offer on the spot and his response was quite a bit more indecent and passionate than a kiss.

With agreement on both sides, the pact went ahead and the news was quickly circulated that Chase Young had taken his first legitimate apprentice ever—and that anyone wishing to contest his choice had a limited window in which to do so.

That part was something of an old rule for taking an apprentice, perhaps a bit outdated, but Chase was nothing if not a traditionalist and besides, leaving the challenge open sent the perfect message.

To Jack, it said that he was serious about the offer and could rely on his master to defend him when necessary. To the other Heylin, it showed that he was willing to fight to keep his apprentice, which served as a warning to think twice before trying anything stupid. As for the Xiaolin, it was little more than a dare; something that said, 'stop me if you can.'

Even with his newfound skills, though, Spicer was…less than popular. Chase had never really expected anyone to challenge his claim.

It quickly occurred to him that this was something of an oversight. He only wished he had realized as much before he found himself staring down at a Xiaolin monk.

"Really?" he couldn't help but ask.

Omi looked far sterner than he had any business being, glaring up at the warlord from roughly navel height. Chase made a mental note that his young foe had undergone a growth spurt since last he'd seen him.

"I am well within my rights to contest your claiming of Jack Spicer," he declared. "I do not understand your surprise."

"Perhaps I do not understand your motives," Chase suggested. "When I issued the challenge, I had no idea that Spicer was in demand. What use could you possibly have for him?"

"I have no intentions to use him at all."

Chase frowned. "Yet you challenge me for the right to him."

Omi squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest. Chase respected him enough not to laugh at the picture it made. "I challenge you because you would use him!" Omi snapped. "Jack Spicer does not deserve to be tricked by you twice."

Amusement faded quickly from Chase's demeanor. "You believe my claim is a deception," he inferred.

"It has been so before," Omi said bluntly.

"It is not so now," Chase returned. "I have taken him because I believe he has potential and I would not see it wasted. There is no other motive."

"You will forgive me if I have doubts."

"Really, Omi, how unoriginal do you presume I am?" he almost sneered. "I would never use the same ruse twice, much less on the same individuals."

Omi frowned, tucking his hands into his sleeves. "Perhaps not," he allowed, "but I have been scorched before."

Chase rarely had trouble translating the monk's mangled slang: he meant he'd fallen prey to repeated schemes in the past. The thought made him smirk a little. "Considering it was Spicer who tricked you, one would think you'd be a bit less eager to come to his rescue."

Omi stoically refused to rise to the taunt and Chase felt a vague wash of pity that he'd been unable to reach this young man all those years ago. He had true skill and could have been great had he chosen evil—but he'd chosen a boring life of goodness and the strict morals that came with it.

Sad, really, but Chase had long since decided to respect his choice.

Speaking of, "What exactly is your plan, Omi? You wish to fight me over Spicer, perhaps win him from me…and then what? Will you force him to become Xiaolin?"

"Of course not!" Omi sounded shocked and offended at the very idea. "I would not claim to own him. He may do as he chooses once I free him from you."

"As he chooses," Chase reiterated. "And if he has chosen me?"

Omi faltered for a response long enough that Chase took a step closer, bringing a guiding hand to his back. Though the dragon of water looked up at him warily, he did not step away.

"Come, young monk," Chase encouraged, pressing lightly. "I'd like to show you something."

Omi allowed himself to be led over to a seemingly empty spot. With a gesture from Chase, the Eye Spy Orb rose up from the floor and presented the two of them with an image from elsewhere in the palace.

Jack was precisely where Chase had left him in order to attend to Omi's challenge—with Diol, who had continued the day's training in his stead.

Omi watched with him as the two of them sparred, taking only a few seconds of observation before asking, "Hou Quan?"

Chase smiled despite himself, but did not take his eyes off Jack, who had just employed a very nice backflip as a dodge. "I felt it would be best to start with a style that played to his strengths," he explained. "He's fast and flexible, but not very strong and when he does take hits, he's damaged easily. It's better for him to focus on evasion and learn to strike at the weakest spots when his opponents get close."

"And he's already had experience with monkey style," Omi concluded.

Chase's grin broadened and he was reminded to steal the Monkey Staff back from the temple's vault for Spicer's use. It would serve as a nice crutch until his skills improved, and after it would surely be a favorite toy.

"So he has," he agreed aloud, watching as his minion finally landed a hit that knocked Jack flat on his ass and then extended a hand to help him back up. As Spicer reached out and took it, Chase pointed. "That is what I wanted you to see."

Omi looked closer, squinting at the blurry band of black around Jack's arm. "The marking?"

Chase nodded. "The marking is actually a collection of Heylin runes," he said. The sparring continued and showed off the identical tattoos on both of Jack's biceps. "In short, they're a magical manifestation of the claim I have staked on him."

Omi turned to face him with wide eyes. "A binding spell?"

"Yes. If I'm to teach him to be dangerous, I'd like the assurance that he won't be turned against me, by his own will or otherwise." He gestured again toward the runes. "Those markings ensure that he will be physically incapable of attacking me so long as I maintain my claim on him."

"How will you train him if he cannot attack you?"

"There is a difference between sparring and an attack," Chase pointed out. "The spell works mostly by intention. Treachery or the goal of homicide, to give a few examples, would freeze his hands without question."

Omi nodded in understanding and returned his attention to the Eye Spy Orb, where Jack very narrowly avoided being struck in the face by using a move that put Chase in mind of a push puppet. It had definitely not been taught to him and it warmed the everlord's black heart to know that his apprentice was bringing to fighting the same sort of innovation he'd brought to the bedroom.

"The binding has taken his ability to go against you," Omi announced after a moment, almost abruptly. "What has it taken from you?"

Magic was always a give-and-take. If you wanted one thing, you would have to give up another.

"I may not take another apprentice," he told the monk.

Omi blinked, very noticeably startled. "Ever?"

Chase shook his head. "Only while I keep him in my service," he clarified. "If I dismiss him or replace him with another apprentice, it counts as relinquishing my claim over him. With the denouncement of the claim, his binding is nullified and he may act as he chooses in regards to me."

Chase felt Omi's eyes on him quite keenly and he knew even before meeting them that the youth was inspecting him; sizing him up and trying to determine whether or not his foe was speaking the truth.

He was, of course, and Omi eventually came to that conclusion on his own.

"Very well," he said slowly. "I shall believe for now that this is not one of your games." Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "If it is, you would do well to be careful."

Chase felt a strange prickle of amusement and confusion. That sounded an awful lot like a threat, and from a Xiaolin monk!

"Who have I to fear?" he asked, mouth twitching into a small grin. "You and yours?" The other monks had not even accompanied Omi here!

But Omi's answer surprised him for he simply replied, "Your apprentice."

For the first time in a very long time, Chase was just a bit too staggered to mask his expression. The confusion on his face was enough invitation for Omi to explain.

"If you are playing games," he said, utterly serious, "you would do well to remember that Jack Spicer is a sore loser."

And then, Omi was activating the Golden Tiger Claws he'd used to come, gone between one moment and the next.

Chase stared at where the portal had been maybe a few seconds longer than he intended to. If his foe's words lingered in his mind, he told himself it was because it was the first time he'd ever heard Omi use an idiom correctly.

He soon found himself looking back to the Eye Spy Orb, still displaying the play-fight between his second-in-command and his apprentice. The two of them were lovely to watch, Diol with his dark skin and quiet ruthlessness pit against Jack, stark white and all flash and cunning and vibrance.

Chase looked closely and took note of the strange ferocity he saw on Jack's face when he made to attack, lunging straight for the eyes with a flawless monkey claw. He wondered what it was like to be on the receiving end of that look, that attack.

It was a brief thought, because it was quickly followed by the thought of the same after Jack had completed his training. He was getting to be a passable fighter now, decent, even…but what of when he graduated into a deadly one?

A thrill rippled down his spine and suddenly, Chase wanted nothing more than that. Jack—hand-trained, skilled, and downright vicious—fighting with him. Across from him or at his side, either was an electrifying prospect and Chase only just resisted the urge to push the goth harder than he'd be comfortable with in order to make it happen faster.

He wouldn't, of course. This was not the sort of thing that could be rushed, no matter how much Chase suddenly wanted it.

One thing he could do, however, now that Omi had gone, was to return to Spicer. Waving his hand, Chase dismissed the magical eyeball back into the floor and went to do just that.

He wasn't sure if he was going back to spar with Jack or fuck him and he didn't end up deciding until he actually got there.

It ended up being a bit of both.

A/N: HI, EVERYONE, I'M STILL ALIVE! XD

Anyway, I'd just like to dedicate this piece to the lovely Silvarbelle because I was inspired to write it because of her birthday. Clearly, I need to stop setting myself deadlines like that because they straight-up don't happen, but whatever.

As for the story itself, I have two overarching notes about it.

First of all, I noticed something I have a tendency to do when writing a Chack story and that's to center a fic around Jack. I don't necessarily put it in his direct point of view (though I have before), but the action and the focus is generally on him, probably because he's my favorite character. After this occurred to me, I started wondering what it would be like to write something from a general Chase-perspective just to switch things up, so this whole thing is basically an experiment in focus for me. Hope it turned out alright!

Second of all, when I was coming up for the original idea for this and doing the outline, it was supposed to be one big Shovel Talk fic: as in, 'I have a shovel, a shotgun, and five acres to bury you in if you break his heart.' However, I say it was 'supposed' to be that because once I started writing it, none of the other characters actually had the balls to threaten Chase. They point things out, give subtle advice, and make suggestions, but not a single. Damn. One of them. Had the nerve to actually threaten him, which I just find really hilarious. XD

So, to make a long story short, this is me taking a shot at Chase-centric Chack and having it end up nowhere near where I thought it was going.

This was not really written to be split up into chunks, but length-requirements kind of force my hand in this case. That means that this is PART ONE.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! :D