Title: Learning to Spar

Disclaimer: If you haven't caught on yet… I don't own these guys. Scifi and the Baum estate does.

Part #5 of the "Learning" Series. Oneshot.

The two fighters were evenly matched, even if one was outsized. The only sounds were of clashing weapons; the painful sound of flesh striking flesh, grunts at impact; the splash of feet in the water and the constant patter of the rain.

Both men were shirtless. The rain made muscles glisten as they flexed and bunched. It plastered the normally-loose cotton exercise pants to their bodies. Soaked hair sprayed water as fast turns and spins were executed. It was both beautiful and painful to watch, and very titillating.

The watcher stayed under the shadow of an arched support of the portico leading to the practice yard. A delicate hand rested over her heart as her eyes followed the movement and her ears picked up the almost-constant tattoo of rattan blades crashing together. Her other hand was against the arched pillar, as if it held her up. Her dark green dress was splattered with even darker spots, where rain had blown in under the cover.

"Don't we have an indoor gym for that?"

The watcher jumped and spun at the voice. DG stepped out and onto the granite portico and Az smiled at her sister as she drew even with her to watch the match.

"Although this view is much better."

Azkadellia smiled: "DG, you're married."

"Married, not dead." The reply was spoken in a distracted tone. "And there is something so wrong about admiring your step-son's back. But, man-oh-man, does he have the sexiest back I've ever seen."

"Wyatt doesn't have a sexy back?" Az arched her right eyebrow.

"Hell yes, he does. Unfortunately, Jeb happens to have a sexier one by just that much," DG stated, holding up a hand with her thumb and forefinger just millimeters apart. "I think it has to do with the leaner build. Wyatt's built like a linebacker; broad shoulders, naturally larger frame. Jeb, there, is slimmer, sleeker, a sports car to Wyatt's Mac truck."

DG's explanation was much more baffling than the facts. Az knew what she meant, even if she didn't understand the references.

"Of course, the redhead's not bad either." DG crossed her arms just under her breasts. "Jameson, isn't it?"

Jameson stood out. Not only for his red hair and almost-blond beard, but because the man was six foot six and, with sculpted muscles, just over average. He was intimidating as hell, which was why he rotated as personal bodyguard for whatever royal was seeing the most people on any given day.

Az blinked; she hadn't noticed it was Jameson, just that he outsized Jeb.

"You have it so bad," DG leaned into her sister.

"Have what?" Az had taken that distracted tone again.

"He doesn't have a clue we're watching, does he?" DG's smirk was irritating.

"Of course he does. Awareness of your surroundings helps keep you alive." Az winced as Jameson got in a side kick that staggered Jeb. But, as the larger man's rattan knife moved to slice across Jeb's throat as a follow-through, Jeb's 'blade' blocked it and he twisted out of the way. A leg-sweep behind the heels sent Jeb down, splashing into the mud. He rolled away to avoid a gut stab.

"Oh, mud wrestling starts. I should call the maids." DG perked up.

"You'll do no such thing," Az almost growled.

DG giggled. "You know the only reason he went down was because he got distracted by you. He was trying to show off."

Jeb hadn't lost yet. He'd tangled his legs with his opponents to bring him down as well. Jeb gained his feet with a bit less grace than usual; the mud made the process slippery. Which was likely why they were out there and not in the gym. A real fight wasn't always under optimal conditions.

Both men were plastered with mud now, the rain sending little streams to wash away portions in streaks.

Jeb shook his head hard to the right. His wet curls flung and splattered mud in their wake, across Jameson's eyes. Jameson had to blink and that was when Jeb swiped the rattan 'knife' across his opponent's neck.

"And you're dead," Jeb's voice carried far enough for the two spectators to hear.

"Too bad we weren't wagering on this," Az smiled, obviously proud of Jeb's victory.

"'cha, right. Like I'd bet against Jeb. I've seen him in action." DG held both her hands up in mock surrender.

The two combatant's waded their way through the rain to the portico.

"Using your hair is cheating." Jameson's deep rumble was full of humor more than accusation.

"Nothing's cheating when it comes to a fight. Use everything you have. Including muddy hair," Jeb laughed. He had a nice laugh.

When they stepped under the shelter of the roof, both men gave a slight bow. "Highnesses."

Jameson elbowed Jeb's arm and continued on into the hall that led to the gym and the showers.

Jeb, of course, had halted.

DG watched with a little smile as her sister tried NOT to stare at Jeb's mud-streaked chest, accentuated by his heavy breathing. The fine scar diagonally across his right pectoral drew attention to his build more than detracted from it.

"Are you two judging our performance?" The light in Jeb's eyes as they fell on Azkadellia suggested he knew otherwise.

"Hmm, you get a nine," DG broke in. "You got distracted, which cost you two points, but the hair maneuver gained one back for you."

With that she patted his shoulder and walked away, leaving her sister alone with the Captain of the Guard.

"I'll give you a ten, since he was bigger than you." Az looked to the ground, suddenly shy without her sister as backup.

"Size doesn't matter. Sometimes it actually works against you." Jeb stood with his hands on his hips, one wooden knife in each fist.

Az peeked up under her lashes.

"Is that a way to compensate then?" she blushed at the words even as they came out of her mouth.

"I hardly need to. I also have skill on my side," Jeb battled back.

"And little arrogance, as well." Azkadellia crossed her arms defensively and Jeb took notice. She was uncomfortable with this turn at the moment.

"Confidence isn't arrogance, your Highness. Have a good afternoon." He turned and walked away, without being dismissed. He didn't want to make his princess uncomfortable.

He didn't see her watching the way his muddied and soaked pants clung to his backside as he walked away.