Archive of Our Own ^beta

Being underwater for too long can make someone lose their head, even for a Metkayina who has been trained his whole life. It was the third time Ao’nung had “forgotten” the monthly Metkayina gatherings in Awa’atlu. Frankly, he was just too hazy from the hundreds of times he’d dived into the water.

This, of course, led to where he is now, pushing fellow na’vi aside with his spear in hand as he tried to reach the beach where his family was. The gathering had already begun, and Tonowari had apologised for Ao’nung’s absence.

When he’d finally jumped off the walkways with a groan and crack of his neck, they were all on the shore surrounding Tonowari under the cover of a small tree, just beside them. “Sorry,” he muttered, just loud enough so his father could hear, but quiet enough so that he didn’t have to open his mouth so wide that the rain would get in. Tonowari nodded, continuing his speech about the Tulkun returning the next day.

Ao’nung shook the rain off his face as soon as he reached cover, mounting his spear into the sand beside Tsireya, who looked at him and frowned. His father’s words became muffled from there, because something more dire had caught his attention. The only reason he’d ever break a smile in a moment like this is Neteyam, squatting on one of the Awa’atlu walkways with his hands clasped together between his legs. His mate, looking at him, and making faces that only the two of them would understand.

It was like a conversation — Neteyam would breathe in deeply: late, again? And Ao’nung would tilt his head ever so slightly: it’s not my fault. The distance between them was palpable, and the rain didn’t help, nor did the gloomy sky at midday. But Neteyam’s laugh fixed all of that, because now, watching him giggle, Ao’nung’s smile bore teeth. And even though Neteyam seemed annoyed, Ao’nung could feel the ground below his feet again, almost as if he’d been floating earlier.

Right up until Neteyam’s attention was ripped from him. Ao’nung held his breath. Before he’d even looked beside his mate, Ao’nung assumed it was Lo’ak who’d tapped Neteyam’s shoulder. Tsu’an was nothing like Lo’ak. Neteyam faced an admired warrior of the Metkayina, a boy who had reached warrior status and grown stronger faster than most. His tattoos had already reached his chin, and his songcord had too many trinkets for a young warrior. And that was who sat beside Neteyam, also in a squat, talking to him, on the edge of the walkway.

Tsu’an gestured at the rain, putting both hands on Neteyam’s shoulders and playfully shaking him. Ao’nung cringed. His face scrunched up as if he were tending to a fresh wound. He knew that Neteyam couldn’t be down here with him, of course. But that didn’t mean he liked to watch another warrior’s hands hold Neteyam, let alone a warrior all young Metkayina idolised. But it wasn’t like they were doing anything wrong — the two were talking and laughing, as friends do. Though Tsu’an wore all his garments that day. All his arm braces, tewng accessories, and had his spear. His hair was up higher, in a small bun, similar to Ao’nung’s in a way only he would describe as copying, but then again, how many hairstyles can one do with medium-length hair?

Ao’nung was floating again; there was no longer any ground below his feet, and he couldn’t look away, mesmerised by how easy it was for Tsu’an to hold Neteyam’s attention while talking about water. But that’s when Neteyam grabbed onto Tsu’an’s arm brace, adjusting it for him. Neteyam touched him without even being asked. Whatever air Ao’nung had in his lungs now escaped his lips as he leaned back on the rock behind him.

Tonowari ended the gathering with a thank you, which shooed away all non-Awa’atlu Metkayina, and left only a few dozen na’vi, who then all went into their respective maruìs. Tonowari now faced his son with narrow eyes and firm lips.

“Again, Ao’nung?” Tsireya and Ronal were gone now.

“Father, I got tired because I was hunting. I am sorry,” his voice cracked, and he focused on the ground, but not for the reasons Tonowari assumed.

Tonowari put a hand on Ao’nung’s shoulder. “Son, sorry will not make you a warrior. It is past your time already.”

Ao’nung nodded. There was no longer a point in fighting with his father, something he learned prior to when he and Neteyam became mates, which was what ultimately led to their choice. Tonowari didn’t understand why his eldest was the outlier of the young Metkayina, why every time he attempted his rite of passage, he’d give up just before he succeeded.

But Neteyam understood, and all he needed right now was his mate. Alone. Not with Tsu’an.

As soon as he’d climbed up to enter his maruì, a dark blue hand reached out to help him up, and when he took it, he was greeted by pearly whites. He couldn’t believe he’d struggled to make that easy climb.

“Hey, you,” Neteyam started, pulling Ao’nung by his arm so hard he’d almost tripped. “Dad’s mad again?”

The two stayed idle for a few moments as Neteyam waited for Ao’nung’s reply. Ao’nung didn’t think he could say a whole sentence without saying Tsu’an’s name. A small ‘mm’ was all he could muster. He tapped a gentle finger on Neteyam’s forearm before letting his hand drop to his side, walking into his family’s maruì, where Ronal and Tsireya were nowhere to be found. Neteyam stood dumbfounded for a second. Then, he followed his mate in.

“Uh, okay, dude. So,” the ‘o’ was drawn out for far too long while Neteyam thought of what to say next. Ao’nung was upset about his father, and the only thing that’d help in this situation was a swim. Ao’nung tucked himself in, facing away from his mate. “Wanna go hunt tomorrow?”

Ao’nung whispered this to himself only, but he couldn’t be sure that Neteyam didn’t hear. “Maybe you should go with Tsu’an.”

Neteyam did hear. Lima Charlie. But he did not understand. “Huh?”

“I said yeah, sure,” Ao’nung said. “Sorry, Neteyam, I just wanna sleep for a bit. I’m tired from hunting all day.”

Neteyam came closer to press a kiss to the back of Ao’nung’s head. “Okay.”

He walked out, greeting Tsireya, who’d just come back from talking with her mother, with a small ‘Oel ngati kameie’.

—

Ao’nung spent the next morning rotting in his sheets. The floor of his maruì had already grown uncomfortable, but he didn’t get up until Neteyam came to drag him out, which is how he ended up waist-deep in the water with he and Neteyam’s ilus, watching as Neteyam mounted his.

Ao’nung’s hair was down. His tewng was messy, and he didn’t have many of his garments. And Neteyam noticed, because before they became mates, Ao’nung wouldn’t show himself in front of him without all his garments — the symbols of his achievements. Sure, Neteyam thought it was because he was trying to show off, but after tsaheylu, he learned Ao’nung thought it was the only way he could live up to Neteyam’s warrior status.

But he hadn’t ever seen Ao’nung without his garments, and he didn’t know what it meant. “Ao’nung, why won’t you look me in the eye?”

“Can you just keep hunting?” His words were quick and final, almost cutting off Neteyam, who gave one slow blink in return.

Ao’nung was no better, either. Every time he looked into Neteyam’s eyes, he saw his mate with a warrior who was stronger, who could make him happier. His ilu kept misreading his instructions, sending him either flying through waves or moving slower than them. And then, he missed five consecutive shots.

That’s when Neteyam took him by the arm and pushed in onto the shore, gentle but assertive, and far from anyone else. “Ao’nung, what is going on? I have never seen you miss a shot until today. Talk.”

Ao’nung didn’t reply. Not because Neteyam was wrong, but because he was so right that it began to remind him of how he’d acted the first few days Neteyam had been in Awa’atlu. And those weren’t pretty memories.

Ao’nung closed his eyes, his fingers fidgeting with his tewng. “If…” he opened them only to look at the sand, “if you want to talk to someone, go talk to Tsu’an.”

“What?”

Ao’nung was caught between letting his feelings out and scaring Neteyam away, or keeping them in and having this pit in his stomach that just won’t go away. He promised himself he’d always put Neteyam first, but how could he when Neteyam himself was stronger? What was the point in protecting someone who could so easily ask for and receive protection from others?

“Well, he was all over you yesterday, wasn’t he? Took all your attention away—“

Neteyam forced Ao’nung’s chin up. “Literally, who?!”

“…Tsu’an. The warrior, he…” Ao’nung wrapped his hand around Neteyam’s wrist, moving it away from his face. “Everyone likes him, Neteyam. And he can protect you. I can’t compete with that.”

“Ao’nung, I asked you a question,” Neteyam’s voice landed softer this time. It was the same tone he’d use to talk to Tuk when she was crying and he didn’t know why. “Who is Tsu’an?”

Ao’nung’s mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, he closed it and looked at Neteyam, puzzled. “The warrior you were with yesterday at the gathering?”

“Oh,” Neteyam sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t even know his name.”

Ao’nung’s ears flattened, and his shoulders drooped. He stopped looking at Neteyam — in fact, he looked anywhere but. “Forget it.”

“No, I won’t.” Neteyam stepped closer. “Ao’nung, we’re mates. I’ve been inside your mind, I know you better than anyone. If you don’t tell me, I’m gonna start guessing.”

Ao’nung knew Neteyam was his mate, that he could trust him beyond doubt. Truthfully, Neteyam made it hard not to.

“Neteyam… I’m scared. Everyone my age is already a warrior. I’m the Olo’eyktan’s son, and I’m stuck. That’s not good enough for you.”

“Right, and—“ Neteyam had to stop himself from getting too angry. He was about to spit out some sarcastic comment, but the way Ao’nung’s eyes were half-lidded and the way he sniffled was enough to stop him. “Ao’nung, you are my mate. I don’t give two fucks about you protecting me or being a warrior. I like you the way you are, okay?”

Ao’nung huffed to himself, a clear sign to Neteyam that he didn’t believe him. But it wasn’t that Ao’nung didn’t believe him; it was just hard to grasp why someone like Neteyam would ever go for him.

“…I just don’t like anyone touching you and stuff.” It was so weird that he felt jealous over nothing, and something sick twisted in his stomach. He felt like some controlling freak.

But Neteyam just opened his eyes wider, excited that he had all the truth now, and looked at his mate. “C’mon, Ao’nung. Let’s go back to hunting.”

And within seconds, Neteyam had gotten them both underwater and swimming around. There wasn’t anything to catch. This was too close to the shore, so they were just swimming — Ao’nung tugging at Neteyam’s tail when he felt the other was getting too far, and Neteyam doing the same to Ao’nung’s leg. It was almost as if they were flying. There was no more resistance from the water.

And as the sun set, their feet were in the sand, hit by the tide every few moments. The sky turned orange over the horizon, and Neteyam’s head was on Ao’nung’s shoulder. They had sat there against the rock, not saying a word for what felt like an eternity. But Neteyam had to speak.

“Ao’nung, there is no decision in life that I regret more than leaving my home.” Ao’nung tilted his head to rest it on Neteyam’s now, an act of understanding. “But there is no better cure for my sorrows than your presence in my life, let alone you being my mate.”

Ao’nung knew. He knew just how much Neteyam loved him, because after everything he’d done, Neteyam was still here. Next to him. With him. “I know, Nete. I am just scared. Of my father, of all these expectations… I’m meant to be the next Olo’eyktan.”

“And that will come in due time, but for now, you and I are two people in love. So, how about we go practise some of your Rite of Passage activities?”

“… does this entail an underwater kiss? Because I think I really need one.”

Neteyam stood up, offering a hand. Ao’nung faltered, but he took it and then they both dived and were in the water again. His hands danced around Neteyam’s waist, trying to hold him closer so he could smash their lips together. But Neteyam moved quicker, the coolness of the water harsh against his skin. His palms rest around the back of Ao’nung’s neck, pulling his face in. Air bubbles floated up between their connected lips, and as they did, Ao’nung’s whole body gave in. He went limp against Neteyam’s touch because this was all he wanted — for Neteyam to only look at him. And that bastard Tsu’an wouldn’t dream of being this close to Neteyam.

Ao’nung wouldn’t let go. Even after Neteyam had pulled away from the kiss itself, Ao’nung’s lips remained on the Omaticaya’s face, peppering kisses on his cheeks and forehead, and Neteyam was struggling to function, not even caring that his hair was now too drenched to be dry by tomorrow, because he was the one who usually gave. Ao’nung was clingy, yes, but in the way he’d pout if Neteyam walked away or pull him back for a hug before he left. But this was desperate, like Neteyam would disappear if this didn’t happen right now. And Neteyam truly laughed to himself, moving his face around so Ao’nung could get every angle.

When they were finally up again, panting and bobbing up and down as they recovered, Ao’nung hesitated again, but he brought his kuru forward, offering it to Neteyam.

Neteyam’s heart beat quickened in a way it hadn’t in a while. They’d done this before, only once, when they’d mated, and the feeling had sent a shock through Neteyam’s body for a week. He couldn’t even look at Ao’nung that entire time, while the other seemed perfectly fine.

“You’re sure? Cause now I’m gonna know all these new feelings,” Neteyam tried to joke, but it came out more like a lecture.

“Yes.” And thus, Neteyam grabbed his own.

Tsaheylu was the easiest part. What came after — all the knowing, the new thoughts, feelings, ideas — that’s what was hard. But with Ao’nung, it was easy, because Neteyam could read the boy like a book, and he gained no new information.

But for Ao’nung, it was different. He saw that Neteyam smiled at him without him even seeing, that Neteyam imitated him while practising. That Neteyam idolised Ao’nung just as much as Ao’nung idolised Neteyam. Only Ao’nung’s eyes were closed, so Neteyam took in the view of his mate trying to process so much information. It was cute how Ao’nung’s nose would flare up every few seconds when he was super concentrated.

Ao’nung opened his eyes. “So no more Tsu’an, right?”

“…who?”