Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

[1.]

The conversation Lo'ak just had with Aonung almost two hours ago still sticks in his brain. It rolls around in his head out of control, sticking and smearing on all corners like warm taffy. He just can't stop thinking about Aonung's reaction to his words, the strange vulnerability Lo'ak admitted when he told him about feeling like a disappointment. Which, he still wasn't entirely sure why he told him so in the first place anyways. Lo'ak didn't trust him as far as he could throw him, and it wasn't like he particularly wanted to seem pathetic in front of Tsireya's brother.

Well, he would be lying if he said he didn't want to be somewhat amicable with Tsireya's brother. She was beautiful and cool, knowledgeable but humble. The female reef na'vi was also his only friend on the beach considering his brash yet quiet nature, so. Ultimately, if she had to choose between staying his friend or backing her brother, Lo'ak had no doubt she would choose her brother. He couldn't blame her, he would always choose Neteyam first too. Still, it pained him to admit he really needed to befriend Aonung, or at the very least have a non-antagonistic relationship with him.

If only he wasn't a raging asshole.

It still stung a little, knowing Aonung had left him past the reef, leaving him to fend for himself or die. Die, most likely, knowing the older boy thinks of him much like a freak, the nickname demon knocking around in his head.

His hands shook at the thought, remembering what it felt like to be chased down and almost bitten at. Lungs burning when he remembered the feeling of water forcing it's way past his esophogus, the feeling like no other as it poured down his throat. The prey instinct was still strong, making him want to turn tail and run at the slightest movement. He was frustrated, frustrated that he couldn't shake off the still simmering fear, frustrated that he fell for their tricks, frustrated that his dad made him apologize, frustrated he cared about Tsireya enough that he'd probably be tricked into another humiliating near-death situation just for her shitty older brother's approval.

He missed Spider. He missed his easy friendship with him, even though the human and his sister clearly had a stronger bond. It never mattered to him that much, knowing at least Spider could be friends with him without any strings attached, without any other precursory reasons.

Of course, Lo'ak liked being friends with Tsireya. It was awesome, she was awesome! It was like having a best friend back, someone who didn't judge him for his odd physical anatomy, someone who didn't place any expectations or judgements on his shoulders simply for who he was, who he was related to. It was nice. Relieving, even, being around her.

It was a pain in the ass working for it.

Lo'ak's pretty sure everything worth anything is worth working over, worth shedding blood, sweat, and tears. At least, that's what his grandmother used to say to him when he would run around in circles around her knees as a child, curious at her meticulous work. Asking her constantly why she worked so hard, to the point where her knees would shake from the long hours moving around, tending to other forest na'vi. She'd drape a thick, warm hand around his nape and tell him carefully, in slow words, that nothing comes without a price, and that joy would come from the most unexpected places. He'd laugh in her face if he could right now, several thousand kilometers away from her warm touch and tall, soothing figure.

Joy was not coming from his efforts.

The echoing sound of the shark's jaws clicking together and the feeling of rushing water in his own lungs seizes him, forces his knees to buckle from where he stands, overlooking the moon by the shore. He scratched at his own chest, sharp gasping wheezes that scratch at his windpipe. When he was with Payakan, he at least had the distraction of an incredible large aquatic creature protecting him. Being with the tulkun was so unbelievable and shocking that it had removed any panic still in his system, brain distracted from the traumatizing events he had gone through.

He didn't have that distraction. Payakan wasn't here anymore. It was just Lo'ak and his own lonely thoughts, his own over active brain picking apart the memories piece by piece. Over-analyzing every way it could've went wrong, filling away every second he was close to losing an arm or a leg, or worse—death. Lo'ak tried clearing his head with tightly shut eyes and large gulping breaths.

What crossed the line of being considered worth it, and being too much of a risk? At what point is fighting the good fight turned into fighting for your own life? Does it matter, Lo'ak thinks miserably, hands still tightly clutched at his own chest, face pressed into his knees. His father would make him befriend the other teenager eventually, no matter how many times Lo'ak would beg him not to.

Maybe the line was already crossed when they arrived at the reef. Maybe the line was crossed back at home, when Lo'ak got Neteyam almost killed, blood dripping off his skin and onto Lo'ak's own hands. Maybe the line was crossed the moment the stars fell, sky people invading their lives, ruining it for everyone on Pandora.

Maybe there was no line, maybe he was just over thinking again, as usual. Absentmindedly, Lo'ak uncurled and stuck a thin finger into the sunset warm sand, tracing lines into the thousands of small pebbles. The sound of soft waves lapping at the shore fills his mind, making him disconnect from reality.

Lo'ak isn't sure how long he's been sitting outside, staring at nothing, staring as far as he can see past the ocean. There is nothing past it, he distantly thinks, mind numb and filled with buzzing, like cotton candy. The forest feels so far, like a lifetime away, unattainable. The sand suddenly feels sharp, searing instead of comfortable.

He tries focusing, removing the cotton candy from his brain, retracting his finger from the pebbles when he hears it; the soft padding sounds of footsteps, of someone approaching him. Probably Neteyam, if he was forced to make an educated guess, but the evident lack of the sounds of beads clinking together throws him off. Kiri, then?

Lo'ak sighed, pressing his eyes into his kneecaps again, hard enough to hurt. The pressure is tough, but it grounded him from any stray depressive feelings—his siblings are hard to fool. He tried to ignore how his stomach rumbled, knowing he's probably missed dinner already. Not so surprising that no one had come to fetch him yet, probably sensing his annoyingly brooding personality making an appearance. "Kiri, I'm not in the mood for a pep-talk."

The figure shuffled awkwardly a bit, before taking a tentative seat next to him. The voice was soft, almost apologetic. "Sorry, not Kiri." There's a stilt in his voice, like he's not sure what he's saying, or even doing there.

Lo'ak groans quietly, trying not to broadcast his annoyance bodily. Who knows what his dad would say to him this time if he got into a fight with the Olo'eyktan's son right after his last one? Nothing good, that's for sure. He cracked an eye open, glancing at the older boy from his peripheral vision. Surprisingly, he's slouched over, brows scrunched together and own gaze determinedly staring at his hands bunched on his lap. There's something on the other side of Aonung, but Lo'ak can't see that well from only the corner's of his eyes, so he leaves it be.

The forest na'vi sighed, knowing there was no chance the other would leave any time soon. "It's fine. What's up?"

The hesitation in Aonung's body language was clear, fidgeting hands stilling and broad shoulders tensing. "Did you mean it?"

Huh? "Mean what? Really, it's fine dude. I survived, right? I mean, not really fine, but we can move past it. My dad would—"

"Not that, dumbass." The almost snarky tone made Lo'ak relax, despite the fact he should've been tensing. It felt more right, more in character for Aonung. He doesn't mind being cut off abruptly if it means he'll stop looking like such a kicked puppy.

"Okay? Then what were you asking?"

Aonung took a deep breath, large hand coming down to smooth the sand near Lo'ak's own thigh. The close contact—close, but not touching—sends small shivers down his spine. He was never that good with strangers, and physical touch was one of his weak points. "You really," his voice cracked, a little emotional. "You really feel like a disappointment sometimes?"

The question confused Lo'ak, unsure how to respond to the emotional inquiry. Wasn't this something he should be taking up with Neteyam? The forest na'vi slowly turned his gaze back to the stars, biting the bottom of his lip, fangs grazing against the skin creating fine raised lines. This was probably a delicate question, which required a just as delicate response. "I mean, yeah. My dad is... kind of really strict, and I'm the second son, so. Don't really live up to the expectations, can't really get the same attention as the ex-future Olo'eyktan. Worst of both worlds, honestly."

Soft laughter rings out, and Lo'ak feels himself flush from pride. Aonung is almost fully turned to him at this point, soft moonlight casting a shadow over his features. When Lo'ak turns to look at him back, it makes him realize how different the taller na'vi looks. Soft, almost, despite the shadows making his face look more angular. Most likely because of the mellow look in his eyes, the way his brows are pinched and there's a twisted, complicated expression on his lips. He not only sounds vulnerable, but now he looks the part, too.

It made Lo'ak's heart beat quicken when he realizes he also looks trusting, searching the shorter boy's face for something. Aonung is sharing a vulnerable moment with him, despite their prior dynamic. He tucks that piece of information away for later, to examine and dissect on his own. Finally, after a long look, the taller boy glances away and speaks. Lo'ak follows his gaze, trying hard not to stare at him too awkwardly. There's just something about the way he looks right now, sharp angles and serious look that makes the warm feeling in his gut twist, tail lashing.

"How do you deal with it?"

Well, fuck.

It takes him a few seconds, but he ends up spitting the first thing that comes to mind. "Remind yourself of whose standards you're living up to. Why live your life the way others want you to do so? Why can't you live for yourself? You're your own person. Is it because you're the chief's son? You can't live up to all expectations immediately. My grandmother used to say that it was supposed to be a slow build up of development to your character, not an overnight change. Nothing comes without pain."

Lo'ak turns back to him, looking up at him through his eyelashes with an inquisitive gaze. His ears flicker, raising at one second before lowering after another. The indecision to continue shows on his face, but the imminent feeling to comfort the other boy wins out. "You aren't your successes, and you definitely aren't your failures. What makes you, well, you, is the collection of experiences and memories that you let influence and shape you."

He reaches out to press a few thin fingers against Aonung's collarbones. His palm doesn't connect to skin, fingers awkwardly bent back a bit, but it feels important, like the touch was the only right choice. "You're a good person, Aonung. Okay, maybe you're an ass at times," the reef na'vi snorts, leaning forward and into the soft touch, "but I think you just want to protect your sister, your people. Stop focusing on everything bad you've done, every failure you've forced into the spotlight. You're good at teaching, you're amazing at controlling and bonding with your ilu. You have fast reflexes and are extremely protective towards your sister. You're also pretty good at rallying your peers to do what you say, even if that's to be a bully." Lo'ak finishes dryly, sarcastically referencing their first few nights at the beach.

He takes another breath before he continues, words coming out like a fountain now, non-stop. They make his own heart hurt, feeling it overflow with his own horrible feelings, telling someone who he thought hated him sweet words that Lo'ak wishes someone said to him. It was a different type of pain to comfort someone else with words he wished were said to him originally.

"Stop focusing on what your dad points out about you. It's his job to shape you to be a better person as the chief's son, which regretfully means pointing out your flaws, no matter how subtle they are. Start focusing on you," Lo'ak enunciates the words by pressing his fingers in more, forcing himself to make eye-contact. It's searing, intense heat between both of their eyes, but he can't seem to pull away. "Would you like it if Tsireya beat herself up every time she did something mildly bad?"

Aonung finally looks away, blinking rapidly. Lo'ak let's his hand fall, bringing it back to his own lap. It's quiet for a good minute before the other na'vi chooses to respond. "No. I'd—," his voice cracks, and he swears quietly under his breath. "I'd hate if she blamed herself all the time for simple mistakes. She deserves a normal childhood."

Lo'ak nods, satisfied. "Yeah. Sucks, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Aonung whispers back. He clears his throat again, and looks away, back up to the sky. "Thanks. You're... surprisingly thoughtful."

Okay, well, kind of rude. But Aonung hasn't been anything but rude this entire trip, so moot point. "Oh, uhm. No problem. Hey, can I ask you something?"

Aonung glances at him with a raised brow, confused. It's clearly a go-ahead signal, so Lo'ak takes the opportunity to let the burning question tumble from his lips like a waterfall. "Why did you seek me out? Was it just for this? Why didn't you ask my brother? He's probably better at this than I am, you know."

The taller boy's expression twists, no longer sad and downtrodden. He instead looks contemplative, almost pitying. It's a look Lo'ak is starting to hate as the seconds go by, even if the pitter patter of his heart speeds up. Having so much attention and eye-contact focused on him in so little time is doing bad things to his heart, really, that's all it was.

"For someone so good at giving advice, you're kind of shit at taking it yourself," is all he says, hand finally coming up to reach out and make contact with Lo'ak's thigh. "You must be hungry, you left before dinner time."

The quick topic change confuses Lo'ak, brain spinning from the combination of warm skin-to-skin contact and the slight insult (that was an insult, right?). "Yeah, you're right. Uhm, it's all good though man. My parents are probably asleep by now, and I don't want to bother them. Kind of my fault I missed it, really."

Aonung shoots a disapproving look his way, hands reaching behind him to the unfamiliar object Lo'ak saw earlier. Huh, he almost forgot about that.

"Here. It's... not really that much, kind of just a snack compared to a meal. I didn't actually think I'd stay out here this long with you, so I didn't bring more. Sorry."

Lo'ak makes a questioning noise, but dissents when he sees what the other boy is doing. Behind him, Aonung pulls out a wooden bowl with what seems to be a concoction of leafy greens and white fish innards.

The reef na'vi clears his throat, ears burning blue. It makes Lo'ak's own cheeks flush, confused at the turn of events. "What is this? Why did you bring me... food?"

"It's a light salad with lime-cilantro tilapia. One of the more uncommon fish types swimming around the reef, but they're my favourite, and I wanted to talk to you about what you said."

Well, if Lo'ak twists his words around in his head a few times, it kind of makes sense. "You wanted to bribe me?"

Aonung growls lowly from the back of his throat, exasperated. "No, idiot. If I wanted to bribe you, I'd have given that to you first."

"...Okay? Then why would you give me this? I thought you'd prefer if I starved," Lo'ak joked, taking a more lighter tone to diffuse the tension. Look, the growl was kind of attractive, but also he wasn't trying to start a fight. Again, his dad would kill him.

It worked though, somehow, it works. The next time Aonung speaks, it's with a deeper timber, almost embarrassed. "Just eat the damn food. You're so unbelievable skinny, if I didn't know forest na'vi were meant to look like that, I'd think you'd keel over and die in seconds."

With that, he drops the bowl in Lo'ak's lap, forcing him to scramble to pick it up or have it drop fish sauce all over his legs. His mad-dash scrambling for the bowl makes Aonung snort as he uncrosses his legs to stand up.

"Wha—hey!" He doesn't get a chance to retort back though, because the the other boy has already left, figure shrinking the more distance he crosses. Well, kind of sweet, mostly just rude. What was that about? Lo'ak sighs, feeling like they've taken one step forward and two steps backwards. The older boy was really just too complicated. What even was his purpose for coming here? He didn't even apologize, the jerk.

Lo'ak's stomach grumbles, hunger making itself known now that there's a free bowl of food in front of him. The fish still looks warm, steam emanating off the meat. The fruit and vegetables incorporated in the salad look fresh too, baby tomatoes still having tiny water droplets from where he most likely rinsed them from. It looks delicious, and his mouth waters, abdomen clenching from his empty stomach.

Well, at least there's that.

(It's really good, Lo'ak hates to admit. The salad is cool and crunchy, fruit still taut, satisfying to bite on, fish warm. Eywa, was Aonung seriously that good at everything? Ugh. At least he'd made up his mind, Tsireya was definitely worth putting up with her older brother's moody ass.)

Chapter Text

[2.]

It's probably not a healthy habit to have, but it's the only one that gives Lo'ak peace. These days, being around the rest of the Metkayina Clan (or worse, his family) was too much for him to handle. It's not that he's overstimulated—okay, maybe he is, but it's more so that he's been strung up so tight the past few months, from the abrupt move and change in his life. Leaving home, the forest, everything he's ever known, his best friend Spider; it was a lot to take in for a young na'vi.

Being around his parents also made it more likely for him to mess up somehow, his curious nature overtaking his common sense and fucking it up for everyone else. They thought punishing not just him but his siblings for his mistakes would get it through his thick skull. It made him want to curl in a ball and also punch something repeatedly. He knew he was too curious, too nosy, too adventurous for the rest of his friends and siblings to keep up with him, but he couldn't help it. Something in his brain just made him think fast, made him want to reach out and touch. Which resulted in him getting yelled at more often than not.

That was why being around the still somewhat unfamiliar Metkayina clan was a bit of a landmine for him, bright colours, different scenery, odd foods. It made his brain go nuts and it was all too much to take it. Alongside being yelled at, it made him want to cover his ears and close his eyes. Of course, if he did that, his dad would almost definitely give him a worse punishment than not riding his ikran for a month. The last time he did that, Lo'ak tried jumping off a cliff just to see if his ikran would save him, which wouldn't technically be considered willingly riding.

His mom almost fainted from shock when she saw him jump off, and then grounded him for another two weeks. Which, counterproductive, he knows, but still. Keeping him away from things usually resulted in worse endings than intended.

Anyway. Lo'ak's new current bad habit was sneaking away from the group and coming out to see Payakan, his favourite whale friend. Well, it might not really be considered sneaking out, because Neteyam had tentatively covered for him, but still. He wasn't technically supposed to be outside the reef, but he was certain nothing lurked around here that was bigger than Payakan.

It was sunset, and the ocean was glittering a beautiful blue. Lo'ak blinked lazily from where he was laying on Payakan's back, absentmindedly stroking his smooth skin, like petting a hairless cat. The large ocean animal was just floating aimlessly around, content to hang out with Lo'ak. Peaceful, that's what it was, to be outside in the open ocean, atmosphere quiet.

Almost fully quiet. He could distantly hear the muted sounds of what he assumes is an ilu, swimming their way over. It took another five minutes until he was forced to acknowledge the sound.

"You're not supposed to be here," a soft voice said, piercing the silence. "You know what happened last time."

The forest na'vi sighed, annoyed his silence had been interrupted, and quite possibly from the worst person he could've chosen. He rolled over, shoving his face into Payakan's warm skin. Maybe if he pretended the other na'vi didn't exist, he really would go away.

Tough luck.

Aonung slipped off his ilu, opting to climb up the tulkun's back, muttering a thanks to the sea creature when he helped him with a lifted fin. He heard rather than saw the gentle splashing of what he assumed was the reef's ilu swimming away. Great, that just meant he would be staying for longer than expected.

Lo'ak turned his head away from where he had been tracking the older na'vi's movements, pressing his cheek into the tulkun so he didn't have to look at him.

"Traitor," he whispered angrily near Payakan's ears. The whale-like creature only whined and splashed his fin, getting water droplets all over Lo'ak's body. Ugh. See how he would like it next time when Lo'ak didn't bring him some fruits as a few treats. Introducing the tulkun to fruit from the beach was a mistake as almost as it was a good idea. For one, it meant he was always more excited to see Lo'ak, a feat that never failed to make a smile appear on the na'vi's face when he approached. On the flipside though, it meant he would get slightly moody if Lo'ak didn't bring him fruit for the third visit in a row. Really, he was raising a brat. Never mind the fact that Payakan was probably older than him.

"Your brother sent me here, you know," Aonung continues, moving closer until he's sitting right beside the back of his friend's turned head. "He was getting worried, leaving you out here when it was so dark out."

Lo'ak scoffs. "He's always worried. Just go back and tell him Payakan won't let anything hurt me."

"You're his younger sibling," Aonung reasoned. "I would be way more strict than he was if Tsireya was alone past the reef with an outcast tulkun. You're lucky I'm not dragging you back by your tail, no matter how thin it is."

"You can't see it, but I'm rolling my eyes. Besides, your tail's the weird one. No one at home has that big of a tail." His flimsy attempt at redirecting the conversation wasn't lost on the other boy.

Aonung sighed, already expecting the rejection. He didn't say anything about the reef being Lo'ak's new home either, knowing it wasn't the time to argue. "Come back to the beach. If you go back now, your parents might not even notice you left."

Gee, Lo'ak mentally scoffed. That's real motivating, knowing his parents haven't even noticed his absence yet. Yet another thing to stick on his growing list of things to mope over.

"It's past dinner time. You've been gone for a few hours, Lo'ak. It's becoming a trend."

This was new too, the reef na'vi's unexpected worry over Lo'ak. It made him feel awkward, stuck between thankfulness and suspicious at his motives. "I'm not hungry."

Aonung made a noise of light disbelief, gently resting his hand on the curve of the shorter boy's shoulder. He let the weight rest there for a bit before Lo'ak willingly turned over, back straight on the tulkun's ocean warm skin. It sent subtle shivers down his spine, Aonung's much larger hand still splayed across his collarbone, fingertips just a phantom touch on his neck. He leaned over Lo'ak's head, until he was able to look at him eye to eye, even if they were upside down. "Don't think I can't hear your stomach rumbling," he murmured. "You might eat less considering your mass and height, but you still haven't eaten anything this afternoon. I watched."

"Creep," Lo'ak said, nose scrunching up. He tried to ignore his heart steadily beating faster. It was annoying that Aonung was right too, exactly on the dot. The forest na'vi hadn't eaten anything past his breakfast, which was a staggering two mangrove fruits. He was already feeling the effects of not eating anything, a little tired and sluggish, but he refused to back down.

Lo'ak reaches up and pushes at Aonung's broad shoulders until he backs off, sitting back. It was only then when he gingerly sat up himself, arching his back and shoulders to crack his joints, satisfying pops sounding. He tried to ignore the other boy's piercing gaze. Weirdo. (He really tried ignoring how it made him feel, too.)

The forest na'vi turned around to face the other. "Creep," he repeated, tail lashing. He yawned slowly, fangs peaking out and glittering in the moonlight. "Look, I appreciate the gesture, but I can take care of myself. By myself. Without you," one finger reached out to poke at Aonung's chest, "helicoptering me. You're barely older than me as is."

Aonung's hand reached forward and snagged Lo'ak's, pressing his palm to his chest. Lo'ak yelped, surprised at the quick movement, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. He looked up at him at the same time Aonung looked away and frowned.

"Fine. Come on, let's go. Let's do what we should've done before," he said, grip on Lo'ak's hand loosening.

"What? Dude, I just said I didn't want you to helicopter me. I can go back and eat something myself, on my own time."

Aonung shook his head slipping his grip from where it previously was around his hand, into it. He stood up, bracing himself to pull Lo'ak into a standing position too. Lo'ak stumbled from the sudden change, other hand instinctively grabbing at the taller boy's shoulder. He released it just as quickly as he grabbed it when he realized what he had just done, taking a step back. Aonung didn't bother reaching back for his hand again, already turning to slide off Payakan's back, kneeling on his fin.

"Seriously, what are you trying to do?" Lo'ak asked curiously, taking slow steps to follow him, standing behind his kneeling figure. Wow, he thought, ears burning as he stared at Aonung's broad shoulders. He cleared his throat, shaking away the image seared in the back of his mind. "I'm not going back to the beach with you."

He watched as the reef na'vi ignored him, instead making soft noises as he called for his ilu to swim back to them. The larger than normal aquatic creature appeared after a long minute, tail splashing excitedly. Aonung dropped into the water and scratched at the ilu's jaw. "Relax. We're not going to the beach, not just yet."

Lo'ak tentatively dipped into the water as well, awkwardly paddling to stay afloat above the sea level. He swam to pat on Payakan's jaw as a reassurance before joining the other na'vi by his side. Payakan tilted his head in Lo'ak's direction one last time before dipping into the ocean, fin in the air imitating a wave. The forest na'vi watched him swim below view with a disconcerted feeling. Well, now he really was stuck with Aonung.

"Hey, really man," Lo'ak tried again, "I'm trusting you not to kill me this time, because I think Payakan really just left to sleep. Could you at least tell me where we're going?"

Aonung ignored him in favour of grabbing him by his sides—against Lo'ak's surprised yelping—and gently placing him on the ilu's back. He jumped up right afterwards, Lo'ak's back pressing against his chest. He brought his hand up to reach for his queue, the long braid draped across his back, and reached over Lo'ak to connect it to the aquatic animal's own queue.

Finally, after what felt like forever watching Aonung carry out his ministrations, he cleared his throat. "Stop squirming. We're going to fish outside the reef," he squeezed around Lo'ak's waist to get him to stop his repeated complains, "—to actually fish, like we were meant to, before I almost killed you like a dick. Seriously, stop squirming. Which, like I was saying, I'm sorry for, again."

Lo'ak huffed, stilling after his explanation. "You know if you actually leave again this time, I'll seriously die? Payakan is not anywhere in the vicinity anymore. Also, I'll never talk to you again. Probably haunt you too."

Aonung laughed, a deep wheezing sound that came from the back of his throat. It made Lo'ak flush, shoulders tensing at the puffs of warm air on the back of his neck. "Lo'ak, I promise you, haunting me is not the threat you think it is."

Then they were off, the ilu swimming faster than he was used to, leaving him no time to be confused over Aonung's words. He leaned forward, tucked close to the aquatic animal's warm skin, feeling Aonung's back pressed to his similarly. Only after they sunk into the water did they separate a little, current making them separate from the force. Until the reef na'vi leaned forward more and bracketed his arms underneath and around Lo'ak's waist, jaw pressed over his shoulder so he could see where they were going. After a while, they emerged again, Lo'ak taking the chance to take a huge breath of air, face flushed from the proximity.

He coughed a bit, trying to clear his airways from any unwanted water that seeped in from his initial surprise. This time his ears only burned from his own embarrassment. "You could've warned me, idiot. Why do you never warn me when you do things like this!" He complained.

Opposite from him though, was Aonung, who had taken the chance to slip off mid-complaint and was looking down on the ocean floor, searching for a school of fish. He absentmindedly gripped a warm hand over Lo'ak's thigh, effectively shutting him up. He shushed him, a finger coming up to rest on his lips, "Lo'ak, be quiet. You'll scare the fish away."

Eywa, Aonung seriously had to stop with the casual touches. It felt like a zap of lightning every time, sending tingling feelings all across his skin. Whatever, he could be quiet. He was good at following orders. (He really wasn't, but he could follow one when it was important to make a point. Proving someone wrong was always important to Lo'ak.)

At Aonung's nudging, Lo'ak finally slipped off the ilu as well, petting it's snout in thanks. "Wait here, please," he whispered to the animal, pleased when it softly bumped it's head back into his hands. What a sweet creature, Lo'ak thought, completely different from its asshole of an owner.

Speaking of said owner, "Lo'ak, there's a school of fish right there."

Wait a minute. "Aonung, we can't fish."

"What?" Aonung asked, impatient. A questioning look flashed through his eyes. "Yes, we can? The fish are right there."

Technically, he's right, but unless he was planning on going full grizzly bear, it wasn't possible. "We don't have any fishing rods, dumbass."

The reef na'vi paused, eyes rolling before he huffed. "You know, sometimes I really do forget you aren't from around here. Weird how it's always felt like you've been in my life, forever."

"What?"

Of course, Aonung ignores him. "Fine, just stay here or something. I'll do it. You know we don't always need to use gear, right? It just makes it easier."

With that, the taller boy dived in, long legs pumping his body forward, almost like an otter. The unexpected comparison made Lo'ak laugh.

Ducking his head under the water, one hand on Aonung's ilu to keep his place, he watched the other boy attempt to catch the fish. It was fascinating, watching him work, focus ingrained in every feature of his body. The way he ducked under the large bodies of reef, stilling and letting his body temperature drop, cooling off his natural warmth. It took a few minutes, but then he reached his arm out of the hidden foliage of the reef, sticking it out into the vicinity of the fish. Slowly, he wiggled his finger, as if imitating a worm-like creature. It was odd yet made complete sense, the technique in which he used to draw the fish in. Mimicking prey and food was always the easiest way to make someone let down their guard. Lo'ak held his breath past the pushing point when he saw a fish approach Aonung's hand.

Swiftly, as though Lo'ak had almost missed the movement in a blink of an eye, Aonung moved to snatch the fish by it's gills, hand sunk deep under the skin. Well, apparently he did plan on going full grizzly bear.

He used his other hand to hold onto the squirming fish by it's gills and then repeated the process with another fish. Lo'ak, already losing his breath, emerged from under the water and gasped, a light disbelieving laugh emitting from his lips. Shit, he really had a lot to learn here. He thought Tsireya was an amazing teacher and he prided himself on doing better than Neteyam on their lessons, but goddamn. That was just a whole entire different level of skill—Aonung's patience? His quick fingers? The methodical way all of his actions seemed to be?

Aonung emerged minutes later, head sticking out and throwing it back, wet hair shaking and getting droplets everywhere. He gasped and then grunted at the overexertion of the movement. Remarkably, he held two fish in either hand, fingers gripped hard underneath their gills.

The reef na'vi grinned, mirth dancing over his features at Lo'ak's disbelieving expression. "You ready to go back to the shore, now? No more complaints?"

Lo'ak nodded dumbly, mouth gaped a little, just enough for a bit of air to escape. Aonung laughed at him, a beautiful sound. It made his heart race, knowing the older na'vi had done that just for him, went through what he assumed was a difficult hunt. Not to mention seeking him out in the first place, worried about his health.

Aonung smiled softly before reaching over to haul himself with just his legs over the ilu. He nodded in front of him to the empty space. "Alright, get in. You've gotta connect my queue for me since my hands are full, but I'm competent enough to get us back to shore, safely."

Sure enough, the ride back was slow and steady, moonlight blanketing over them. His heartbeat didn't slow down until they parted ways, way after Aonung had rudimentary roasted the fish, claiming that Lo'ak should just eat as fast as possible, considering it had been hours since his last meal. He promised the next one (the next one?) would be more extravagant as an apology for the quickly roasted meal. Lo'ak brushed off his worries, taking a bite of the crispy fish.

It was delicious.

Chapter Text

[3.]

Lo'ak has a dilemma; there is a line of snot dripping down his nose. If he sniffs it back up, he'll probably choke and have a coughing fit. If he blows his nose, he'll use up the last of his tissues, cut up leaves thinned out to make them soft to the touch. He can't blow his nose and wash it out in the water either, because Tsireya called him disgusting for it, and Kiri said he'd just be spreading his germs. He could swim all the way out to the ocean and blow his nose there, too far from anyone to bother them, but he's sick and sniveling at the slightest movement, so that's clearly off the table.

Obviously, the correct decision would be to ask his mom for more tissues, which he would love to do, trust him, except for the fact that both of his parents are out on a hunting mission with Tonowari. Neteyam had tagged along at Rotxo's prodding, and if Rotxo was going somewhere, Kiri wanted to come watch, too. Like a chain reaction, Tsireya would probably be dragged along, and with both of the girls out, Tuk would want to follow.

Lo'ak isn't too sure about Aonung, but he knows the taller na'vi is severely independent whilst also having a dire need to be wherever Tsireya is if she's not by the shore. It would be cute if that didn't mean Lo'ak had to deal with both of their pestering at all times, instead of just one Tonowari sibling nagging him. Really, he's sure Tsireya can take care of herself, and he has no doubt Aonung knows that, but he still sticks to her like glue. It pisses and confuses him so much, but he deals with his presence anyway, to Tsireya's enjoyment.

In short, he's alone in their little designated hut.

A breeze from the soft ocean waves laps at his nose, and Lo'ak's muscle memory makes the difficult choice for him. Springing up, to the disagreeing aching of his joints, Lo'ak snags the last tissue and blows multiple times into it, trying to empty the rest of his snot out while he can. His nose burns at the effort, sides of his skin chaffing, but the satisfying sensation of being able to properly breath again wins out against any complaints he may have with the coarse leaves.

"Ugh," a voice at the mouth of the hut says. Lo'ak resolutely keeps the surprise out of his body language, focusing on blowing his nose. "That's nasty."

Well. That answers the question of if Aonung decided to join the rest of the group.

"Go away," Lo'ak moans as he throws the tissue away, flopping back down and onto his cot, soft blankets weaved from furs and leather. "I'm sick, so I have an excuse. Don't tell me your perfect genes don't make you sick, or I'll seriously force myself to hurl all over you."

He fake gags in the taller na'vi's direction, mentally snickering when he sees him flinch. It's only after he's curled back into the warmth of the blankets that Aonung approaches him again. The closer he gets, the more Aonung can see just how bad the forest na'vi looks, his smaller frame shivering slightly, ears drooped down. He's considerably paler, a high flush on his cheeks, but not from being flustered. Lo'ak is obviously sweating too, hot from both the thick blankets wrapped around him and his body fighting the sickness off.

Aonung wrinkles his nose, a look of disgust on his face. "You look awful."

"Don't remind me, man," Lo'ak groans, closing his eyes and curling the blanket over his shoulder. His words slur at the edges with exhaustion. "I feel just as bad, so leave me alone. I'm not in the mood to banter."

"We're calling it banter now," Aonung asks, amused. "Whatever, Tsireya told me about your little problem."

"So? What, you came to laugh about it? Verify that I'm alive and report back to your germophobic sibling?" Lo'ak grumbles. "You can tell your sister she's way too eco-friendly. There's like, a thousand gallons of water and a single nose of snot. It'll wash out."

The quiet complaint makes the taller boy laugh, mirth painted across his features. "No, don't be such a drama queen. You know, you're probably sick because you always skip your meals." Lo'ak isn't lost on how he deliberately ignored his snot-related rambling. Good choice, he would too. Sick Lo'ak is more loose in the mouth, spewing any and all thoughts that come across a little too loud in his brain. It was one of his worse habits, Kiri used to bemoan about, always stuck to the task of caring after him back in the forest when their grandmother was too busy to do so.

He grunts, poking his head out the blanket just so he can stick his tongue out at the other boy. "Shut up, stop patronizing me. I know you're a picky eater, you're not any better."

"Not a picky eater—just prefer quality foods."

The sick na'vi rolled his eyes, exasperated. "You're so disgustingly bougie, clearly the chief's son. I should bring you back to the forest and force feed you teylu, see how you like that." If he's honest, the thought of those wriggly maggots makes even Lo'ak recoil on some days. Something about the texture was just too awkward and wrong to him, even if the taste was perfectly fine, an explosion of soft meat and a smokey finish. It didn't stop his body from awkwardly craving the taste on some days, though, oddly enough. A weird balance of love and hate to the wriggly creatures. Eywa, he kind of wanted one right now, or at least something earthy to snack on.

Aonung gags. "Don't even bring that up, your sister told me all about them. Weirdest yet most effective scare tactic I've ever witnessed."

"My brother literally grabbed you by your queue," Lo'ak questions, turning his body over so he can peek out at the reef na'vi from under the covers. There's an amused smirk on his face, like a challenge. "That's like, the greatest threat known to na'vi kind. He could have disabled you for life, you know."

The reef na'vi shudders, eyes wincing and widening in a slightly hilarious form of panic. Clearly, it wasn't that great of a memory for Aonung in the same way it was one for Lo'ak. Well, almost great memory, if he ignored the anger and panic he had felt back then. "Yeah, and I've been trying to erase that feeling from my memory, thank you very much. Nothing like the fear of having your own brain pulled out of it's socket."

Lo'ak snorts, which results in a chain reaction of him coughing and hacking under the blankets, trying to spare the other boy from his germs. He clears his throat multiple times before he speaks, ears flushed dark blue in embarrassment. "Sorry. Yeah, you're right, that's definitely kind of nasty. Ugh."

To his surprise, Aonung shrugs, unfazed, coming down to sit adjacent to Lo'ak's body, crisscrossed. Tentatively, a stray hand comes to brush through the other boy's hair, Lo'ak too sick and delirious to question the action all that much. Instead, he leans into the touch, eyes half-lidded, closer to closed than open. It's comforting, the slight scratch of Aonung's blunt nails against his scalp, like his mother used to before he grew too old for coddling.

Lo'ak makes a soft content noise and shifts in his cot, getting more comfortable as he closes his eyes. He doesn't flinch even when Aonung chuckles, too tired to feel flustered at the familiar deep throaty noise. It's surprisingly domestic, the longer Lo'ak thinks about it, and that's the part that finally flusters him, the soft touches and casual affection. Domestic bliss, his dad had once called it, when he would smile at odd times with the whole family around.

"You're really just like a cat, you know." Aonung states, hand woefully extracting from Lo'ak's hair, removed from his braids to let him properly sweat it out. The rush of affection doubles when he realizes that his head is probably all sorts of sweaty and greasy, yet the taller boy had ran his hands through it anyways.

"Shut up," Lo'ak murmurs, reaching out with insistent hands, trying to get the other boy back to scratching his scalp. "Stop with the cat theories, I'm real scary, when I want to be."

"Kittens can be scary," Aonung agrees, dodging Lo'ak's increasingly more demanding attempts, letting out half-laughing amused breaths. "Norm told me about the time he had to get stitches and a thin metal needle shot from a cat scratch. Apparently, they can be deadly?"

"Norm is an idiot who likes tiny and cuddly things. I've seen him try to hug a stingbat, once." Giving up in his insistent chase for the comforting hand, Lo'ak huffs and sinks back deeper into the blankets, sniffing to clear his blocked airways. "Dude, why are you here, anyways?"

Aonung rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. He straightens his legs from where he sits, leaning his back against the woven dried leather walls of the seaside hut. "Don't call me dude."

"Why not," Lo'ak mutters, rubbing his legs together to try and generate more heat despite his sweating frame, much like a cricket. Sure, his upper body is real sweaty, but his feet are just so cold, it's almost unbearable. "It's not like I can call you something like bro."

"Definitely not that," the reef na'vi agrees, to Lo'ak's diminishing surprise. It's not like he can just jump out and say it, but he's starting to get an inkling of... something going on, between them. He sneezes, startling another fit of coughs between his mouth and the sheets, arm coming up to try and stop the spittle. Ugh, thinking too hard was definitely one of his main concerns. He promised himself he'd file away that stray thought for later—knowing full well he would never come back to think about it, unless strictly needed. Heavy emphasis on the 'strictly' part.

Aonung sighs, turning his body away. Oh, Lo'ak idly thinks as he peeks up at him from under his blankets, more food?

"More food," the other boy confirms, making the sick na'vi realize he said his thoughts out loud. Surprisingly, or rather not so surprisingly, given Aonung's latest track record, he pulls out a large wooden bowl. Lo'ak couldn't see the actual contents from his angle on the floor, but the closer he got, the more he could start to smell the fishy scent through his blocked nose. "Reef na'vi special, this time. Soup, specifically."

"You brought me soup because you felt bad?" Lo'ak questions, blinking in quick back-to-back motions. "Were you... worried?"

"Tsireya told me you were sick," he says in lieu of a confirmation, although to Lo'ak's ears it's a full agreement. Warmth spreads through his cheeks and down his chest, but he doesn't acknowledge it, in fear of Aonung noticing as well. "Don't know why they all left you alone though, when you're clearly suffering this much."

"Hunting trip," is all he says in response, cheeks flushing in embarrassment instead of the usual affection. "Your sister left, too."

Wrapping a cloth around the bottom of the bowl to stave off the heat, Lo'ak assumes, Aonung shrugs, his mouth twisted in a slight frown. "There are other na'vi who could have went on that hunting trip. Your parents can hunt on other days, aren't they worried about you?"

Lo'ak doesn't offer a quick rebuttal, instead opting to roll his eyes and force his body to sit up, ignoring the aching pains in his joints. He winces and makes a sound of discomfort at the movement, but ultimately ends up in a similar position to Aonung; back to the wall and legs stretched out in front of him.

"Spoon?" He doesn't wait for a response, already grabbing the bowl from Aonung's hands. Bringing the rim of the bowl to his lips, he's immediately greeted with the taste of a dozen ingredients, multiple notes and layers in the ingredients. There's the obvious taste of fish essence, but beneath the layers of taste, Lo'ak can identify the tangy tastes of the individual vegetables, the heat of the spices used, the tinge of what he assumes is vinegar—which is ultimately used to bring out the earthy taste of the fish.

Surprisingly, it tastes like home. Not like the ocean, despite the whelming taste of fish, but of the forest. The warm hug of sunlight after laying in a grass clearing for too long, the earthy taste of leaves and vegetables. It's good, and that's only the liquid part of this soup.

"Slow down," Aonung urges, gently placing a hand over the other end of the bowl, tipping it away from Lo'ak's urgent swallowing. "You'll choke if you drink too fast. Also, you're not even enjoying the contents of the soup. Fish are rich in selenium, which makes our bodies create cytokines. It should help your immunity. It's also just a delicious warm soup," he admits at the end with a less than dramatic flourish. He passes Lo'ak a beautifully carved spoon, oil finish gleaming. There are intricate carvings on the handle, flowers Lo'ak isn't exactly familiar with, yet.

Quietly, Lo'ak lowers the bowl and uses the offered spoon to pick through the broth and vegetables, raising it to his mouth once he's selected a chunk of soft fish. He chews slowly, silently contemplating.

"They probably don't want to feel useless—have to prove their worth to your clan. We're still outsiders, remember?" Lo'ak finally responds to his prior question, emphasizing his point by letting go of the warm bowl and reaching his hand up, wiggling his five fingers in Aonung's face. There's a teasing smile on his face that dims the longer he looks at Aonung.

Guilt flashes across the other boy's face, to Lo'ak's surprise. He suddenly feels bad for bringing up his anatomy again, knowing the two of them only have bad memories and moments attached to them. Slowly closing his hands into a fist again, Lo'ak wraps his fingers around his single pinky, ignoring the discomfort at the uncomfortable and unnatural hand position. If he wrapped his fingers around his pinky and held it down, sometimes it would truly look like it wasn't there, that he was just another four fingered na'vi holding his hands in a fist. He knows better than to strive for unattainable dreams, though, releasing the fist and sinking his hands underneath the bowl, away from sight.

Surprisingly, like a bolt of lightning, Aonung quickly grasps his hand in his, soft placing Lo'ak's smaller palm in his. He wraps his fingers over Lo'ak's and reaches a long thumb over, stroking at the forest na'vi's pinky. Lo'ak watches him curiously, as Aonung's mouth opens and closes in short increments, much like a fish. He'd laugh at the comparison if he wasn't so confused. Finally, after what seems like forever, Aonung speaks.

"You're not an outsider," he murmurs, frown prominent on his face as he looks up to Lo'ak, forcing them into eye-contact in their extremely close proximity. It steals the breath from Lo'ak's lungs. "You—your family isn't useless. You've proved us all wrong, multiple times, over and over."

"Thanks," Lo'ak stutters, eyes wide and ears pressed back, behind him. He takes a deep breath to relax himself (bad choice, as the dryness in his throat tempts him to cough, which he resolutely ignores) and blinks to break the eye-contact, looking down at the bowl of soup. "What type of soup is this? Tastes good."

Aonung sighs, almost disappointed, which confuses Lo'ak, but he dismisses the prior subject anyways. Slowly and gently letting go of Lo'ak's hand, he steers it back, placing his palm underneath the bowl. "It's a reef na'vi common sick food, like I said. Just some fish and vegetables I had on hand, an easy cut up and broil situation. Heated up the broth with some bone and then added the dry ingredients. Nothing truly special, just the fish native to our ocean."

Lo'ak blinks slowly at his rapid fire of words, brain still mushy from the heat and sickness to understand everything the older boy just said. "Uhm. Come again?"

"Sick foods," Aonung says, slower this time. "Spare fish and vegetables thrown together. It'll make you feel better." It wasn't said patronizingly or mockingly at all, simply said in a more simplified and slower pace. Lo'ak is thankful for this, because the warm soup is making him drowsy, enough for his ears to feel full of cotton candy again. They sit in silence together for a while, Aonung torn between staring at him and staring past the ocean, looking somewhere indiscernible. The forest na'vi ignores him in favour of the soup in front of him.

"Mhm," Lo'ak hums, shoveling the last of the soup down with a flourish. He wipes his bottom lip with the heel of his palm, blinking slowly with his increasingly lethargic frame. "Thanks, Aonung. You're not so bad when you're not mean, it’s nice."

The boy sitting adjacent to him snorts, hands coming up to gingerly grab the empty bowl from him. After tossing it away, he pushes at Lo'ak's shoulders, gently helping him lower his frame back onto the cot. "That's how it works, genius. If I'm not mean, then the only option is nice."

Lo'ak shakes his head, groaning at how the simple movement makes his head spin. Not only is there cotton candy in his head between his ears and eyes, but he's starting to get a splitting migraine. He sniffs again, trying to clear his slowly softening sinuses, thanks to the soup. Well, at least he knew it really worked.

"No, no, that's not what I mean. You're," he yawns, shifting his head up so he can look in Aonung's direction, even if his eyes are almost fully closed at this point. He's squinting hard, and he can only make out the blurry figure of Aonung sitting there, staring at him through his sick watery eyes. "You don't have to be nice, you could've just ignored me and left with the others. You made soup. For me." His words are stilted, tossed together with awkward pauses to emphasize them.

"I did," the reef na'vi acknowledges, softly murmuring. The blurry figure in Lo'ak's vision heaves a sigh, head tilted upwards. "I made it for you."

"Why?" Lo'ak asks with surprising courage—possibly from his sickness making another splurge in appearance—voice soft and wispy at the edges, eyes shut closed. He's not sure if his tone of voice is from the sleepiness or his own quiet, thoughtful contemplation. Whatever it is, he's not stupid enough to not know this is a serious question, an important event in the timeline between both of the boy's lives.

The hand comes back to Lo'ak's loose hair, running through the soft strands. "Go to bed. You're too sick for this."

"I'm not," the shorter boy protests, trying to ignore the already darkening of his vision and senses, sleep trying to pull him under. He feels like he's under a thick liquid, like honey, voice slow and slurring. "Swear, 'm not."

"Sleep," the other boy commands, voice gentle but stern. The hand in his hair scratches at a spot behind his ear, the feeling making him rumble contentedly. "Your parents will probably be here, when you wake up."

"You'll stay?" Lo'ak can’t help himself from asking, wanting their strange mix of pushing and pulling to stay with him, even in his dreams. It's silent for a long while, enough for the prior cotton to drape over his whole body, lulling him to a dreamless sleep, nightmares at bay.

He's asleep, out like a light, before he can hear Aonung's softly muttered response. The promise he says into the emptiness of the hut, hot sun still beating down. "I would stay with you forever, as long as you'd allow me to."

Lo'ak softly snores.

Chapter Text

[4.]

As it turns out, loose curly hair and salt water did not mix well.

He would know.

His fingers catch on a snag in his hair, tangled strands twisted tightly together. Sharp pain bloomed on his scalp at his insistent tugging, prompting Lo'ak to let out a light hiss.

That's what he gets for swimming in the salty ocean with loose hair and not brushing it immediately after. Forgive him for not having a comb, but he never realized how much he'd need one when coming to the Metkayina clan. His slightly curly, frizzy and tangled locks were clearly becoming more and more of a problem as he tried brushing his already dried hair down. Seriously, his fingers were not doing anything for him—not enough power in his wrists to tug out the tangles efficiently.

"Shit!" Lo'ak exclaimed, tugging on a tangle particularly hard, yanking his own head down with his fingers. His head smacked against his hand, an audible noise of skin slapping skin. Frustrated, he groaned and removed his hands from his hair, already sore from de-tangling the other half of his head. "Ow, that sucks."

Kiri snickered at him. "You know, it never gets old seeing you with your hair down," she said, shooting a him a slight smirk. She was sitting in the sand just two feet away from him, leisurely snacking on a bowl of raspberries—curtesy of Tsireya and her friends. Red juices stained her fingers and mouth, mixing with her skin to produce a vibrant purple. "You look so much like mom, with your hair smoothed and covering your shaved side parts. Which still looks stupid, by the way. Only dad pulls that off."

Without anything to do today, as Rotxo had chores he needed to complete for both of his moms, Lo'ak's annoying older sister was given a free day. Which was totally unfair, because on the flip-side, Tsireya was getting increasingly bold in her own lessons with him. For some reason, she believed that because he was doing so well in his lessons—better than the rest of his siblings, really—he would have a breeze amping things up a notch. Except it wasn't a breeze, nowhere near a breeze actually, and he was actually quite literally dying due to the severe activities. His arms hurt, his thighs hurt, his wrists hurt, places he didn't even know existed could hurt! Especially since he missed two weeks of lessons because of his prior sickness, everything was just more sore.

It was making up for the loss of time, she had exclaimed when he had asked her why she was punishing him.

("It's not a punishment, Lo'ak," Tsireya said, swatting at him through the air. There was a dreamy look in her eyes, like she was picturing something he couldn't see. "I know you have so much potential, you just have to let me unlock it."

"Keep it locked, I'm not in the mood to spend eight hours straight under the water, looking like a wrinkly prune," Lo'ak whined. His body was still recovering from his sickness too, making it worse for him.

Tsireya rolled her eyes. "You already look like one, you big baby. Do you really want to fall behind over your other siblings? You were doing so well, too."

Damn. Smart-ass.

"Ouch," Lo'ak had replied back, mouth pursued. She had gotten him with that one, the sneaky skxawng. She knew he had a competitive spirit, and always used it to her advantage. He didn't know why he even considered her his best friend, when all she did was use his weaknesses against him.)

Several hours after Tsireya's lessons from hell, and a long and satisfying nap, he was now saddled with his dried down and matted hair, salty from sea water. Well, partially matted. Half of it was incredibly puffed out, salt bringing out the volume, while the other half was pressed down and matted from where he slept on it. It looked like a lopsided birds nest, to be perfectly frank.

"How do I look like mom? Be honest," Lo'ak questioned, if not for anything but mindless chatter. There was only so much complaining he could do before he'd tire or bore himself out. "I have all of dad's features. You know, his hands and eyebrows."

Kiri wrinkled her nose, eyebrows pinching. She had a contemplative look on her face, chin angled towards the sky decisively. "I mean, yeah, you and I both look like dad in that way. I meant though, that you have mom's face shape. When your hair is down, it kind of frames your face, just like mom's." Flicking her fingers in vain, she pointed down her cheeks in multiple fluid motions, imitating the way his hair flowed down his face.

Well didn't that sound awfully familiar.

Right, the endless comparisons. He honestly forgot about those. What a trip that was—suddenly remembering why exactly he had shaved the sides of his head back years ago, tired of everyone calling him a miniature look alike version of his mom. Face shape, doe eyes, shy exterior, slim figure, short height for a male, demanding, adventurous and curious, similar inner rage, blah, blah, blah!

Which was nice and all, but he didn't exactly want to be compared to her forever. To be fair, he probably did look a lot like her at the time—still does, if he's honest. He's made peace with it, but it's still annoying being so short and slim figured like his mom, instead of the height and bulk that Neteyam has. Seriously, he had it all. Which was kind of annoying, but also he couldn't fault him for literally being born like that. Mindless jealousy wouldn't get him anywhere, anyway. Besides, better to have the supposed future Omatikaya Olo'eyktan have a more intimidating figure (not that... that mattered anymore).

Instead, he had wanted to be like his dad; someone his father could be proud of and someone like the mighty Toruk Makto. It was hard to not want to be him, as even all of Lo'ak's old friends in the forest constantly pestered him to meet the Olo'eyktan and beloved Toruk Makto. It's just been so long since then though, that he's forgotten all about why he took the razor to his hair. (And also changed his personality to be more extroverted, and reigned in his uncontrollable childish tantrums, and started mimicking his dad's habits and quirks. He was still too curious for his own good, though.)

"Does that mean I'm prettier than you?" Lo'ak taunted in reply, teasingly wrinkling his nose at her. He smirked when she hissed in reply, eyes rolled back. "I mean, that can't be too hard. Forget about the salt water killing my hair, yours just looks straight dead."

His older sister scoffed, shoving at his shoulders with her hands, which unfortunately were still berry stained. Gross. The juices smeared across his skin, a dark purple shining through the redness. It was uncomfortably cold, the stickiness making itself known despite his attempts at ignoring it. Pressing a handful of sand on it, he let it soak the juice in and dry before brushing it off.

"You wish, you're as ugly as a nalutsa. Can never tell where you're looking, spread eyes."

"Whatever you say, flat face," he said, throwing a handful of his berry coloured sand at her. Kiri stuck her tongue out to him at his declaration, and Lo'ak did the same, both of them mimicking noises. He only stopped when she did, laughing at the annoyed expression on her face.

"Oh, great," Kiri sighed, eyes wandering past Lo'ak's shoulders. "Well I guess I'm leaving now, don't ask me to stick around for your lame flirting session. I get enough of that from Rotxo already."

"Rotxo flirts with you?" He yelled at her retreating figure, eyes wide. "Hey, he's not bothering you, is he?" He resolutely ignored her annoyed tail lashing and the middle figure she stuck up in the air.

A hand dropped on Lo'ak's shoulder, surprising him and making him jump. "Hey, freak."

"Oh." Ugh. Well, that explained her quick departure. He envied her escape, eyeing her as she walked away, throwing him a smirk over her shoulder. "Whatever happened to us not being outsiders, asshole?"

Aonung swiftly took a seat beside him in the sand, leaning his heavier weight against the other boy, arm wrapped around his shoulders. There was a fabric bag on his other hand that he haphazardly threw behind them. The hand across his shoulder came up to slide his hands through Lo'ak's scalp, twirling at the loose hair. "It's a term of endearment. Notice how I only said freak, not freaks," he put an emphasis on the last word, dragging out the s, "I meant you, not your sister, by the way."

"That is not any better." He tried pushing down the insistent flush on his face, groaning internally when he could feel the warm heat on his ears. His shoulders were already tense enough from the casual touches, tail lashing in embarrassment.

"Yes it is," Aonung replied cheekily, bumping his cheek against Lo'ak's forehead. Even sitting side by side he was annoyingly taller than the forest boy. "Cute hair. You look a real mess, though."

Lo'ak grumbled, giving in and leaning against the other boy. "Stop it. It's your sister's fault, you know. My hair gets greasy way too quickly when I'm sick, and then she drags me out to swim in salt water for several long hours. It's already annoying enough to braid my hair on my own, but salty tangled hair makes it way harder than it should be."

"Hmm. I bet if you left it down and took care of it you'd look just like your mother. Kind of already do, to be honest."

"Ugh, not you too." Couldn't a guy just go ahead and look like his father? Was that too much to ask for?

Aonung laughed at him, dropping his hand to his waist and pulling him closer. "It's a good thing, to be so pretty. Anyway," he coughed, slightly embarrassed, but smile still wide enough to display his pearly white teeth, "need help braiding your hair, short stack?"

Okay. His brain definitely wasn't braining right now. Whatever, that was for later in private; at night, when no one was around to watch him squeal. Yeah. Later, he promised—lied—to himself. "Do you even know how to braid hair? I don't think I've seen you with your hair up before."

"Ouch. First impression not strong enough for you? I had my hair up and everything, doll." Aonung teasingly pinched at his side, making him jump and spaz, pressing his body closer to the taller boy. "Just 'cause you prefer my hair down doesn't mean I don't have variety."

The cotton in his brain returned full force. Doll?

"Aonung, shut up." Really, he needed him to shut up and stop talking, or he'd do something stupid, like say something he didn't mean to say. Or say something worse—something he actually meant.

"Tough crowd," Aonung sighed, giving a last soft tug on Lo'ak's hair before releasing him. He shoved himself backwards in the sand, maneuvering to sit behind Lo'ak. Spreading his knees behind him, he braced the back of Lo'ak's waist with them. "Okay, c'mon, lean your head back and let me do my magic."

The forest na'vi turned his head around, shooting Ao'nung a raised brow. He shivered when the taller boy snaked his hand around on his shoulder, determined to not have his face flush. "You promise you know what you're doing? I'll complain to your sister about it if you don't, y'know."

The boy laughed, hands around Lo'ak's shoulder, fingertips resting against his collarbones. "I promise I know what I'm doing, shortcake. Listen, if you don't like the outcome, I can take them down for you."

Lo'ak frowned, gently leaning into the warmth of his hand. "What are you even getting out of this? I'm benefitting and you're gonna be stuck doing my hair for me for several hours. You know how long it takes." Benefitting his ass, he was going to be on fucking cloud nine.

"Eywa, you talk a lot, you know that?" Aonung groaned, using his leverage to shake him lightly. Leaning back, he stretched and swiped at the canvas bag he threw earlier. Shuffling around in it, he pulled out a leaf wrapped square. He threw it at him, solid packaging thunking against Lo’ak’s shoulder. "If you have to use your mouth, use it to eat that. Skinny ass."

Despite giving in and grabbing the leaf square, Lo'ak pulled his elbow back, jabbing it against Aonung's stomach. He heard him wheeze, a feeling of gratification coursing through his veins. Good, he needed to be knocked off a peg or two. Asshole.

Well, it wasn’t like he was wrong. He really shouldn’t be this short, looking at Neteyam’s impressive figure. A one year age gap didn’t mean he’d have to be so short. Curse his mother’s look a like genes, seriously. Ignoring his pained wheeze, he murmured a quiet thanks, finally letting the other boy lead him backwards. The leaf was slightly sticky to the touch, but he wasn’t complaining that much. Free food was free food, and any food made from Ao’nung was bound to be good.

Carefully unwrapping the square, he marveled at the pretty fruit pastry. It was a square of dough-like bread, with fruit jam and pieces decorated on the top and sides. Taking a bite, Lo'ak closed his eyes and made a low noise at the back of his throat. "Mm, that's good. What's in it? Looks like fruit."

"It is," Aonung hummed, pulling a gentle hand up to card through Lo'ak's hair more firmly now. "Hey, what if I gave you bantu knots? Like... little twisted buns in small sections. Tsireya refuses to let me try them, but I know they'd look absolutely great on her."

Lo'ak blinked slowly as he stared past the shore, letting the comfortable silence stretch as he chewed on a bite of the pastry. He never really thought about doing different hairstyles, that was more of a Kiri related problem. Her wavy straight hair allowed for more leeway in different styles and braids, but she usually preferred it short and down. More easy to move around, she’d replied when he asked why didn’t she grow it out like their mom. "Can't, my hair will still get salty that way. Need to braid 'em tight so the salt won't get in, and the braids last longer, so." An obvious choice, really.

Aonung made a noncommittal noise as he used a finger to section of pieces of his hair, nail gently sliding down his scalp. Lo’ak shivered, the feeling slightly foreign yet light. It wasn’t as comforting as when he had ran his hands through his hair, this time with oddly more... physical tension. "I could always do it for you again," Aonung murmured. "I wouldn't mind. You could be my little test subject, do hairstyles on you that I want to try but can't seem to visualize on myself. Or others, like Tsireya."

He smiled wryly. “You’re really intent on this, aren’t you?” He laughed at the soft pinch on his side, Aonung making his exasperation known. “Sorry, but being called a test subject isn’t the most... useful selling point, numb nuts.” Although the gentle hand in his hair was nice, so the semantics didn’t really matter all that much. Lo’ak pushed down the blush at the thought, grin unwillingly making his fangs slightly peek out. Ah, it wasn’t like Ao’nung knew what he was thinking, and he couldn’t see his smile from where he sat, so he wasn’t too concerned.

“Fine. You can be my little doll," Aonung mocked, tugging on the small portion of hair he had in his fingers as he worked, looping the long hair together in braids.

Lo’ak laughed silently, shoulders shaking at Aonung’s mounting annoyance. He bit into another piece of the bread cake as they sat in silence, the older boy gently but quickly making progress on his hair, braiding the thick and long pieces together. A thought popped into his head suddenly, making him sit up taller in interest. “Hey.”

Aonung hummed, not stopping in his braiding. “What’s up?”

“Where did you learn how to cook?” It’s honestly a surprise he hasn’t asked this before, with the amount of food the other boy smothers him in. Watching him cook in front of him, watching him bring him food to him, always done with care and time, always with intent and resolve. It’s flattering, being on the receiving end of such interest.

The hand in his hair paused, stilling for a second in silence.

Lo’ak tensed, eyebrows lifting. “Uh, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Behind him, he can hear Aonung carefully shake his head, ends of his hair touching Lo’ak from where they shake. “No, it’s all good. It’s nothing... Like what you’re thinking. Just, uh. You know how my sister is being trained to be the next tsahìk, right?”

Lo’ak made a noise at the back of his throat. “Yeah, I think she’s mentioned that before. She’s definitely smart enough for it—I’m not surprised.”

“Yeah, well, good for her. I’m super proud of her, don’t get me wrong.” There was a stilt in his voice, the tone controlled and clipped.

“You don’t sound that proud,” Lo’ak mused, prodding at the unspoken confession.

Aonung laughed, the tension seeping out. The forest na’vi tried ignoring the warmth at the back of his neck again; seriously, this position was bad for his soul. “Can’t get anything passed you, can I?” He let go of the finished braid, hand fluttering to smooth over the plane of Lo’ak’s shoulders. The touch was nice—comfortable, casual. “I am proud, I swear. It’s just... Hard, I guess, sometimes. I’m older than her and her big brother, so shouldn’t I have been the next heir? I ask that of myself sometimes, and put unnecessary pressure on my own shoulders to be better. Could you imagine, in another life, where I was the next Olo’eyktan in training? How different I’d be?”

“You’d definitely have more house training,” Lo’ak teased. He slapped a hand on his side, pre-emptively preparing for the poke on his sensitive sides. It came of course, but instead of giving up, Ao’nung just grabbed at him and shook him lightly.

“Shh, let me tell my story,” Aonung groaned at his teasing. “Skxawng. That’s not the point. Anyway, I’m not the heir, Tsireya is, whatever. Hit to my ego, or something. I don’t care all that much, anymore. Old wounds.”

“But?”

“But the lasting effects still suck. I know my mom is the tsahìk, and she obviously has to pass down her training to my little sister, right? It’s just... That’s all she does. My mom is pretty indifferent to a lot of things, oddly stoic and serious at all times. I mean, she’s not actually that uptight around my family, but she’s somewhat the same. I can’t—I don’t really have an excuse to spend time with her outside of seeing her at home or around the beach.”

“So you asked her to help you cook,” Lo’ak finished, the implied response dawning on him.

Aonung wrapped his arms around him, pulling him back into a sudden tackle. Except it was more softer than a tackle, less restraining and more so simply resting his arms around him. “You’re not a very good listener, are you, Lo’ak?” He joked, hooking his chin over his shoulder. “Yes, yes. I asked my mom to give me cooking lessons. Genius of me, really. Now I actually have something in common to talk with my mom about, and it’s a valuable skill to have. Not even Tsireya is as good at it as I am.”

Lo’ak relaxed in his hold, cocking his head to the side. “So you... Wanted to spend more time with your mom, so you... Lied to her for it?”

Aonung stilled, skin of his brows furrowing. “What? No, I actually did need help learning how to cook. Where did you get that from? No, I wanted to spend time with my mom so I found a reason for it—one that wouldn’t make it awkward between us.”

The forest na’vi looked down at his hands, at the crumbs in his leaf wrapping. He was so focused on his own thoughts that he didn’t even have the time to be embarrassed at the hold the other boy still had him in, slowly releasing him to go back to braiding his hair. “Oh. That’s really smart.”

“I guess so,” the older boy hummed, patiently waiting for him to come back to awareness as he worked on his hair. It was obvious Lo’ak was thinking about something hard. “I could have wallowed in self pity, and hated Tsireya for it, but I took initiative for what I wanted.” His hand paused again, slight tremors in his fingers as he slowly went back to braiding, gently curling the hair and resting his pinky finger on Lo’ak’s neck, the warmth intoxicating. “I’ll always take action for something I really want. I’m ambitious, like that. The worst that could happen is the other person saying no, right?”

Lo’ak smiled softly, turning his head around a bit to look the other boy in the eye. He rested a hand lightly on Aonung’s chest, eyes glittering. “And the best they could do is reciprocate whole-heartedly. I really admire you, Aonung. Thanks.”

The boy in question swallowed, the dots on his skin lighting up in response. “No problem. Hey, what you just said, like... Right now. What, uh?” Aonung trailed off, flushing. He let go of his hair, the last braid painstakingly finished, no excuse to touch the other boy anymore.

“Oh,” the forest na’vi said, brows furrowing in confusion. “Yeah, I really do admire you. You’re trying so hard to be the best possible version of yourself, constantly, and even through the ups and downs you’ve bounced back. You’ve made a lot of self improvement, you know that?”

“No! I mean, yes, thank you, definitely, I try. But no, you—were you implying something else?” Aonung struggled to get out, eyes widening in apprehension, leaning down and in to look at Lo’ak straight in his eyes.

“Oh, you caught that, didn’t you?” Lo’ak laughed, hand coming up to mindlessly stroke a hand through his hair. “You gave me an idea, that’s all. Oh, are you done with the braiding?”

“Yes,” Aonung replied, throat dry. “Definitely done. Hey, what idea did you have?”

The boy in question stood up, a self-assured smile on his face as he turned around. Aonung scrambled to stand up as well, unintentionally towering over the smaller na’vi. The tips of his ears flushed a little at the way his broader shoulders bracketed Lo’ak in.

“I’m going to ask my dad to teach me how to shoot a bow, maybe. Or how to just be more stealthy, something along the lines of that. Thanks for the help, by the way. You’re really gentle with your hands.” With that, Lo’ak turned around and stalked off, oblivious to Aonung’s dilemma.

Oh.

“Fuck,” the taller boy in question whispered, heart still beating wildly. He really was off the deep end for him—it wasn’t even funny anymore.

“Fuck indeed,” an amused voice said behind him. Aonung spun around, coming face to face with the she-demon, Lo’ak’s older sister, Kiri herself. “Told him it was just going to be a flirt fest. Eywa, you guys are so gross. Good luck wiping that forlorn expression off your face, I hope it gets stuck there.”

Aonung stuck a middle finger up at her as she stalked off, a trick he learned straight from Lo’ak himself.

Fuck, indeed.