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Zuko has that look in his eye, and Mai knows.
They’re sitting on the couch, legs tangled together, reveling in the warm, clear light of a late summer afternoon filtering through the windows. Zuko has his hand on Mai’s calf, fingers circling tenderly across her skin. Her limbs are still loose and pleasantly pliant after several spectacular orgasms between them and a hot shower after.
Zuko says something dramatic and absurd, and Mai quips back, razor sharp. Zuko laughs, smiles that bright, bright smile at her, the one that sends her stomach sky-diving, and she knows that they have never loved each other more.
But Zuko looks out the window, and this, too, Mai knows — he’s somewhere far away.
Mai reaches for Zuko’s hand, and kisses it. She knows the exact shade that his cheeks will take, a sweet flush of coral over porcelain.
Mai knows that some things will never change, and that most things always do.
“So, babe,” she drawls, trying to contain the excitement in her eyes, “who is he?”
Zuko looks at her, eyes wide with surprise. She can see the moment he decides not to lie, when he remembers that they’ve planned for this since day one. “How did you know?” Zuko says. She rolls her eyes. Silly boy.
“Because I know you, Zuko.”
Mai smiles, and Zuko smiles back.
///
Zuko brings Sokka home with him one day, and Mai is amused.
He’s loud, sarcastic, he talks too much, he doesn’t understand personal space and he immediately makes himself familiar. At dinner he eats enough for four people, and after he drinks enough for two. The drinking is the only thing that gives away his nerves, and Mai is gleefully impressed. Being passively intimidating is one of her favorite pastimes, after all.
Sokka also looks at Zuko like he paints the stars across the sky every night. He melts with every touch of Zuko’s hand, with every breath Zuko forms around his name. He smiles, dimple-cheeked and blindingly bright, with Zuko’s messy laughter. He kisses Zuko, tenderly, at the corner of his scarred eye when he thinks that Mai isn’t looking. He will learn, soon, that she always is, because he’s smart, and he watches, too.
He watches Mai, and tries to learn her, or, at least, to learn of her, in the little glimpses that an evening can provide. He’s looking for her outside of who she is with Zuko, and it startles her. Her hands itch for her knives, because in his keen gaze is something that terrifies. How refreshing.
He watches the way Zuko holds her hand, and sweeps her into a playful dance across the living room, the wine and the joy and the love thrumming through Zuko’s veins giving him a liveliness so few get to see. He watches the way Mai whispers in Zuko’s ear, without hurt, and without greed.
Go to him, Zuko, she says, before his heart bursts out of his chest. You’ve found a good one, babe — he’ll love you like the sun loves the day.
Zuko opens his mouth to speak, but Mai holds a finger to his lips. She knows what he’s going to say. She taps the tips of his nose, and gets up to head into the kitchen. She feels Zuko’s eyes on her back. He’ll wait to move until she’s gone, out of respect, he would tell her. Sokka catches her eye, curious, and she winks at him. Later, she’ll blame it on the wine.
Mai lingers for just a moment in the hall. She hears Zuko call Sokka’s name, and it sends a thrill up her spine. She can hear them embrace, and she walks away.
Zuko is in love, again, and his joy is bright enough to chase the sun out of the sky.
Thank the Spirits, she thinks. It seems like this one is here to stay.