Chapter Text
It was already very late by the time Zuko finally stepped out of the last audience chamber. The palace remained quiet, though not with an empty kind of silence. It was the sort of stillness left behind after an excessively long day: low-burning embers, lit torches, distant footsteps that disturbed nothing.
He walked with his back straight out of habit, though the exhaustion showed in the slight droop of his shoulders. His robes were still perfectly arranged, his topknot still intact, barely held together by the pin.
He didn’t stop until he reached Izumi’s room.
He opened the door carefully.
The little girl was fast asleep, completely worn out, hugging a blanket close to her chest. Dark hair spread across the pillow, her breathing slow and deep. Zuko remained motionless in the doorway for a few seconds, simply watching her.
His expression softened.
He stepped inside without making a sound, adjusted the blanket that threatened to slip onto the floor, and gently brushed a strand of hair away from his daughter’s face.
"You lost again," he murmured quietly, as if she could hear him.
He didn’t stay any longer.
He closed the door with the same care he had opened it with and continued down the hallway.
When he opened the door to his chambers, the first thing he did was let out the breath he felt he’d been holding in all day.
The second movement came automatically. He lifted a hand to his hair, untied the knot, and removed the pin. The weight of the day seemed to fall away with it. Dark strands slipped loose around his face, softening the harshness of his features and partially hiding the scar.
For a moment, he let his eyes close.
The room was almost dark, lit only by a low-burning lamp. Lately, whenever he returned at hours like these, he always found Mai already in bed. That was why he expected nothing different that night.
He was still wearing the full armor of the Fire Lord: the red robes embroidered with gold, the shoulder guards that weighed on him like a constant reminder of his title, the golden belt, the leather bracers.
Then he saw her.
Mai was there.
Sitting at the edge of the bed as though she had been waiting for him. Relaxed. Too relaxed. Her hair hung completely loose down her back like a dark curtain, one strand tucked behind her ear. She wore the short robe Zuko knew very well, the neckline slightly lower than usual, the sash tied carelessly.
And the necklace.
The one he had given her.
It caught the firelight for a brief second.
Zuko stood still for a moment longer than necessary.
"You’re late," Mai said.
Her tone was the same as always—flat, without emphasis or reproach. Even so, she didn’t look away from him.
"It ran long," Zuko replied.
He still didn’t move closer. He couldn’t. Not when everything about her was saying something no one else would have known how to read.
"I noticed."
He stepped into the room, then another, and closed the door without taking his eyes off her.
"Izumi’s asleep," he added.
"An hour ago."
"Did she try to wait for me?"
"She lost," Mai answered, watching him steadily. "Again."
Zuko exhaled through his nose. The faintest hint of a smile touched his lips.
"She’s stubborn."
"Like you."
"That’s debatable."
Mai tilted her head slightly.
"No."
Then she shifted just enough for the black robe to slide a little higher along her thighs.
Zuko stayed silent.
She watched him with those dull golden eyes that never needed words to say everything.
"Are you just going to stand there?" she asked in that low, calm voice he had learned to read perfectly.
No. He wasn’t going to stand there.
He took one step forward, then another, until his knees brushed the edge of the bed. The moment he came within reach, Mai grabbed the front of his outer robe and pulled him down with that unexpected strength that never stopped surprising him. Zuko fell forward, but caught himself at the last second, bracing his hands against the mattress on either side of her body, holding his weight above her.
Their faces ended up a breath apart. Their noses brushed. He could feel Mai’s warm breath against his lips.
"That’s better," she murmured.
And then she kissed him.
The kiss was direct, deep, filled with that restrained hunger they only ever allowed each other to see. One of Mai’s hands buried itself in his hair, holding him firmly in place, while the other moved with deliberate slowness toward his belt. Zuko let out a rough groan against her mouth, and she swallowed it immediately, deepening the kiss as though she wanted to consume every sound, every response he gave her.
Her fingers worked with the cold, efficient precision that defined her. The golden buckle gave way with a soft click. Mai tossed it aside without looking, and the belt hit the floor with a dull thud. Then her hands moved up to the shoulder guards, undoing the straps with steady, unhurried movements. One fell, then the other. She pushed the heavy red robe off Zuko’s shoulders, and he twisted slightly to help her, letting the garment end up discarded in some dark corner of the room.
Mai pulled away from his lips for only a second, just long enough to whisper against his mouth.
"The boots."
Zuko needed nothing more. He pushed himself up enough to pull them off with clumsy fingers made impatient by urgency. One boot hit the floor. Then the other.
"Done," he breathed.
Mai pulled him back down and kissed him again, slower this time, deeper, savoring him with deliberate intensity. As their tongues met, her hands slid down to his inner shirt and began undoing the clasps one by one, taking her time, enjoying the anticipation.
After several long seconds, Mai pressed a firm palm against his chest and, with one skilled twist of her hips, reversed their positions in a single smooth motion.
Zuko fell back against the sheets.
Now Mai was above him, straddling his waist, her legs framing his hips, the black robe pushed halfway up her thighs. Her long dark hair spilled over her shoulders like a curtain, brushing against his chest. From beneath her, Zuko watched with uneven breaths, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His dark shirt was still on, but completely open, leaving his skin exposed.
Mai took a moment to look at him.
Then, without hurry, she pushed the fabric farther apart, opening it fully and revealing his torso. Her fingers traced the edges of the garment before taking hold of it and pulling it upward.
"Raise your arms," she ordered softly.
Zuko obeyed instantly. The dark shirt was tossed somewhere across the room. He was left wearing only the red pants, bare from the waist up, black hair spread across the pillow.
Mai lowered her gaze and looked him over slowly, without a trace of embarrassment. Her dull golden eyes lingered on every detail: the old scars, the tension in the muscles beneath his skin, the thin trail of dark hair running down from his navel and disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants. She took her time, enjoying the sight like someone admiring something that belonged to her.
"Like this..." she murmured at last, a subtle smile touching her lips. "You look much better like this."
She placed both palms against his chest. One directly over his heart, the other lower, over his stomach. Zuko’s heartbeat was so strong she could feel it pulsing against her hand.
"Are you nervous?" she asked in that soft, innocent voice that never fooled him.
"No," he lied.
Mai tilted her head slightly, letting a black strand slip over her shoulder.
"Liar."
Zuko opened his mouth to answer, but she was already moving lower. Her hands slid slowly to the waistband of his pants and stopped there. She lifted her eyes and looked directly at him, challenging him.
He held his breath.
Mai smiled.
"Are you just going to stay like this?" she asked.
No.
Before she could say another word, Zuko pulled her down toward him urgently. One hand buried itself at the nape of her neck, the other closed around her hip, and he kissed her with an intensity Mai hadn’t seen from him in weeks—deep, hungry, almost desperate, like he was drowning and she was the only air left in the world.
Mai let out a sound somewhere between surprise and pleasure. Her fingers tangled in his loose hair and tugged gently, drawing a low growl from him.
"That was more like the Fire Lord," she murmured against his mouth, breathing unevenly. "I wish you were like this during meetings."
"In meetings, I don’t have my wife on top of me," Zuko replied, his voice rough.
"Shame," Mai whispered, softly biting his lower lip. "You’d be much more effective."
With a single movement, Zuko reversed their positions. It wasn’t rough, only firm and controlled. Suddenly Mai was on her back against the sheets with him above her. His hands planted themselves on either side of her head, trapping her without crushing her, the muscles in his arms tense.
"Now I’m the one on top," Zuko said, looking down at her. "Any complaints?"
Mai held his gaze steadily. Her eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement, desire, and something deeper—something more intimate.
"For now, none," she replied with a subtle smile. "But don’t get too comfortable."
Zuko smiled back.
Mai’s gaze drifted slowly down his arms, lingering on those large, strong hands marked by years of training, on the prominent veins running along his forearms, on the long fingers she knew very well. Hands that had carried the weight of a nation… and that had held her so many times with perfect firmness, guiding her exactly where he wanted her.
Zuko noticed where she was looking.
"What are you staring at?" he murmured against her lips, his voice low and heavy.
Mai didn’t answer with words. She lifted both hands and slowly slid them along his arms, feeling every tense muscle beneath her fingertips. She moved up over his hard biceps and broad shoulders before trailing back down his chest, tracing the scar across his skin with a deliberate caress. She never looked away from his eyes for even a second.
Zuko held his breath, his chest rising unevenly beneath her hands.
"I always look at you," Mai murmured softly. "When you’re sitting on the throne. When you’re speaking with the advisors. When you walk through the halls wearing that ridiculous cape that makes you look untouchable. Always."
The faintest smile curved Zuko’s lips.
"And what do you see when you look at me?"
Mai tilted her head slightly, wearing that subtle, dangerous smile only he ever got to see.
"Sometimes I see the Fire Lord." Her fingers followed the uneven edge of the scar. "Other times… I see the boy who used to blush whenever he tried to ask me for something."
A short laugh escaped Zuko, almost embarrassed, vibrating against her body.
"That boy still exists."
"I know," Mai whispered.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him firmly down against her, pressing him completely against her body.
"That’s why I look at you."
Zuko opened his mouth to answer, but Mai silenced him with a deep kiss, pulling him closer with sudden urgency. He fell against her without resistance. His bare torso pressed against the thin black silk of her robe, his warmth seeping through the fabric like living fire. Mai could feel the hard beat of his heart against her breasts.
"Mai…" he breathed, barely pulling back an inch.
"Don’t stop," she whispered against his lips, her voice laced with want.
Zuko looked at her. His long hair hung messily around his face, framing the scar, and there was no trace of the Fire Lord left in his golden eyes now. Only him. Her Zuko. The one who still shivered whenever she looked at him like this.
"I won’t," he promised.
And he lowered his mouth to her neck.
Mai arched her back with a broken sigh the moment his lips brushed that sensitive spot. Her fingers tangled in his long hair, tugging gently to guide him. Zuko kissed, bit down with careful pressure, then licked at her skin, blowing warm air over the dampness he left behind. A shiver ran through Mai’s entire body.
"Zuko…" she whispered, her voice catching slightly on the last syllable, heavy with need.
That was exactly what he wanted to hear.
He lifted his head and looked at her for a second. Her lips were parted and flushed, black hair spread messily across the sheets, her chest rising and falling too quickly. This was Mai at her rawest and most beautiful, and Zuko never grew tired of seeing her like this.
"Do you want me to keep going?" he asked in that low, rough voice that always slipped beneath her skin.
Mai raised an eyebrow, looking at him with that mix of desire and disbelief only she could pull off.
"That’s what you’re asking? After making me wait for hours…"
Zuko smiled. It was that small, crooked, almost shy smile he had never quite managed to lose, even now as Fire Lord.
He lowered his mouth to her neck again, but this time without any pretense of gentleness. He kissed her hungrily, directly, like someone who had memorized every inch of her body over the years. His lips found the exact spot beneath her jaw where her pulse was racing wildly, and he smiled against her skin when he heard Mai’s breathing hitch.
"What?" he murmured with feigned innocence, golden eyes gleaming in the dim light.
Mai tugged harder on his hair, forcing him back down again.
"Don’t stop," she repeated, and this time her voice trembled on the last word.
Zuko needed no further permission.
His mouth returned to her neck with renewed intensity, kissing and biting while his hands moved with purpose. One slid beneath her back, arching her toward him and pressing her tighter against his bare torso. The other moved slowly upward from her hip, tracing the curve of her waist over the black silk. Mai caught her breath when Zuko’s fingers brushed the underside of her breasts.
His lips traveled downward with deliberate slowness, from her neck to her jaw, and from there to the edge of her neckline, where the skin was softer and warmer. His hands lowered to the edge of her robe.
"Help me," he murmured against her heated skin.
Mai raised her arms without hesitation. The black robe slid from her body, and Zuko pulled it away completely, tossing it aside. She was left before him wearing only a thin silk undergarment that barely covered her breasts and the silver necklace he had given her, its chain catching faintly in the glow of the distant flames.
The cool air of the room brushed over her exposed skin, but Mai didn’t feel cold. Zuko’s body radiated an intense, almost feverish warmth, and he immediately moved to cover her, surrounding her with his presence.
His hands drifted lower with exquisite slowness. They traveled over her shoulders, down the soft curve of her arms, brushing the backs of her hands. For a moment, Zuko laced his fingers through hers, pressing their palms together. The cool metal of their rings touched, two identical bands glinting in the dimness. A small, private smile curved his lips before he let go.
He kept moving lower. His warm palms traced Mai’s sides, outlining her waist, her hips, then sliding down her legs. Carefully, he lifted one of them and gently spread it open, easing his way between her thighs. His fingers traced along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, moving upward with a torturous slowness that made Mai bite down on her lip to keep back any sound.
"Like this?" Zuko whispered against her ear, his voice low and heavy.
"Like this…" she answered, barely more than a breath.
His fingers continued upward, painfully slow, savoring every inch. Mai’s skin was soft, pale, and cool compared to his, and Zuko had always loved that contrast—how she melted beneath his heat. He reached the edge of the thin undergarment still covering her breasts. He paused there, barely brushing the silk with his fingertips, tracing the lower curve with agonizing slowness, asking without words.
Mai nodded, breathing unevenly.
And then—
"Daddy!"
The door slammed open against the wall.
Everything shattered instantly.
Zuko jerked away as though someone had shoved him. Mai rolled in the opposite direction, tangling herself in the sheets and hitting the floor with a dull thud followed by an indignant huff she barely managed to hold back.
Zuko froze for a second before reacting. He sat upright abruptly at the edge of the bed, trying to force himself into a normal posture that looked nothing like normal. Black hair hung messily over his shoulders, his breathing still uneven, and his face was as red as the robe lying crumpled somewhere in the corner of the room.
"Izumi!" he blurted out too quickly. "Shouldn’t you be asleep?"
Izumi stood in the doorway, still and quiet, her brow slightly furrowed as though she were carefully assessing the scene. She held her stuffed animal by one ear, dragging it across the floor, and her plum-colored pajamas were twisted crookedly.
"I had a nightmare," she said, rubbing one eye with the back of her hand. "There was a bad spirit…" She paused, as though remembering it more clearly. "And it ran funny."
Zuko blinked.
"It ran… funny?"
"Like this." Izumi took a few awkward steps forward, imitating something halfway between a hop and a stumble with complete seriousness. "Like its legs were bent weird."
"Bent weird?" Zuko repeated, running a hand through his hair in a useless attempt to fix it. "Well, there are no bad spirits here. You’re safe. Why don’t you go back to bed and—"
Izumi tilted her head, looking past him.
She blinked.
"Why is Mom on the floor?"
Silence dropped instantly.
Zuko turned slightly, as though he could somehow avoid the inevitable.
On the floor, wrapped rather undignifiedly in a sheet, Mai closed her eyes for a second, took a deep breath, and then spoke as though nothing had happened.
"Mom got tangled."
Izumi took another curious step forward.
"Did you fall?"
"No," Mai replied calmly while untangling herself. "Mom got tangled."
She managed to stand, adjusting the sheet just enough to cover herself, and lightly smoothed her hair as though that could fix any part of this situation. Izumi watched her closely.
"You fell," the little girl repeated, sounding more convinced this time.
Mai looked at her for a second.
"Mom’s going to the bathroom for a moment," she said at last, completely ignoring the diagnosis. "I’ll be right back."
She crossed the room without hurry, as though there were absolutely nothing strange about the situation, and closed the bathroom door behind her with flawless composure.
Izumi continued staring at the spot where she had been.
Then she looked at Zuko.
"Mom definitely fell."
Zuko dragged a hand down his face.
"Mom… got tangled."
Izumi stared at him silently for a few seconds. Very intently. Too intently.
"Why is your face red?" she asked, stepping a little closer, as though she needed to confirm it.
"My face isn’t red."
The girl frowned and stretched upward slightly to get a better look.
"Yes it is. Like an apple."
Zuko exhaled slowly. Very slowly. He forced himself to relax.
He had survived wars, his family, and himself. He could survive this too.
"I’m hot," he said finally.
Izumi lowered her gaze to his bare chest.
"Is that why you’re not wearing a shirt?"
"Yes."
"And is that why Mom wasn’t wearing a shirt?"
Zuko made a strange sound somewhere between a cough and something that definitely was not a word.
"Mom… was hot too."
Izumi nodded with complete seriousness, as though that were the most logical explanation in the world. Then she looked down at her own pajamas and tugged lightly at the fabric.
"I’m hot too."
And she started taking them off.
"No!" Zuko shot to his feet so quickly he nearly tripped. "I mean— no. It’s cold. Very cold."
Izumi froze with her pajama top halfway up, eyeing him suspiciously.
"You said you were hot."
"Now I’m cold."
"But you didn’t put on a shirt."
Zuko went silent for a second.
"It’s different."
Izumi narrowed her eyes.
"You’re weird, Dad."
Zuko rubbed a hand over his face with a sigh.
"Yeah. Thanks."
The bathroom door opened.
Mai stepped out wearing a long pearl-gray silk robe that reached her ankles. Her hair was gathered into a low bun, only slightly disheveled. Her expression was completely impassive, as though nothing had happened, as though she hadn’t fallen onto the floor wrapped in a sheet just minutes earlier.
"Izumi," she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "why aren’t you sleeping?"
Izumi immediately turned toward her, completely forgetting the previous interrogation.
"I had a nightmare," she explained, moving closer. "There was a spirit. It was big…" She stretched her arms out as far as she could. "And it had lots of eyes."
She lifted her hands to her face, spreading her fingers apart.
"Like this. Lots."
Mai watched her silently for a few seconds, assessing her, before leaning forward slightly to tuck a strand of hair gently behind her ear.
Zuko cleared his throat quietly, a little more composed now. He bent down casually, searching for his shirt on the floor, trying not to let Izumi notice.
"Lots of eyes?" he repeated, straightening halfway up.
"Lots," Izumi confirmed with complete seriousness. "And they were all looking at me."
Mai and Zuko exchanged a glance over the little girl’s head. It was a language built over years of living together. This wasn’t a whim. It wasn’t an excuse.
Izumi was genuinely scared.
Mai turned her attention back to their daughter without changing her expression.
"Do you want to sleep with us?" she offered in that flat voice that would have sounded indifferent to anyone else, but that Izumi had already learned to understand as the equivalent of a hug from her mother.
Izumi nodded.
"Is Daddy staying too?"
Zuko, who had finally found his shirt, pulled it on quickly.
"Daddy’s staying too," he confirmed, adjusting it while still struggling with the clasps. "I just needed to put this on."
His hair was still a mess, loose strands falling around his face, but he no longer seemed to care.
Izumi climbed onto the bed clumsily, using her hands to steady herself, then flopped down in the middle. She settled immediately, hugging her stuffed animal against her chest before lifting both arms to either side, assigning places with complete authority.
"Mom on this side. Daddy on the other."
A short breath escaped Zuko, almost a laugh.
"Yes, ma’am."
Mai lay down on one side without arguing. Zuko did the same on the other, still fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. Izumi remained in the middle, eyes open in the darkness, still far too awake.
Mai watched her for a moment before speaking.
"Did the spirit have a name?"
Izumi shook her head and hugged the stuffed animal tighter.
"No. But it was ugly."
Mai nodded slightly, as though that were all the information she needed.
"The ugly spirits are the weakest ones," she said with complete certainty. "The pretty ones are dangerous. The ugly ones only scare people."
Izumi fell silent, processing that, her brow slightly furrowed.
"So it’s not coming back?"
Zuko reached over and carefully brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead.
"It’s not coming back," he said softly. "And if it does, Daddy will burn it."
Izumi turned her head slightly toward Mai.
"And Mommy will stab it?"
Mai held her gaze without hesitation.
"Mommy will stab it."
Izumi smiled. It was a small smile, barely a curve of her lips, very much like her mother’s.
"Okay," she murmured, settling more comfortably into the pillow. "Then it’s fine."
Silence returned to the room.
But it wasn’t the same silence as before. Now it carried the soft rhythm of Izumi’s breathing, the slight rise and fall of the stuffed animal against her chest. It carried warmth, closeness, and something gentle filling the space between them.
Zuko looked over the top of his daughter’s head.
Mai was already looking at him.
He made the faintest grimace.
She raised an eyebrow.
There was no need to say anything.
This wasn’t over.
But for now, it didn’t matter.
"Goodnight, Izumi," Zuko whispered.
"Goodnight, Daddy."
"Goodnight, Izumi," Mai said.
"Goodnight, Mommy."
There was a brief pause.
"Mommy," Izumi added, her eyes already almost closed, "why wasn’t Daddy wearing a shirt?"
Mai didn’t look away from Zuko.
Without looking at her, Zuko grabbed a pillow and pressed it over his face.
"Because Daddy’s weird," Mai answered calmly.
"Oh…"
Izumi didn’t question it any further. As though that explained everything.
And she fell asleep almost immediately, the way children do. Her breathing turned slow and deep, her mouth slightly open, dark hair spread across the pillow. The stuffed animal remained tucked tightly against her chest.
Zuko and Mai stayed looking at each other over her.
"Well," he whispered, barely moving his lips, "that didn’t go the way I expected."
Mai looked at him with that expression of hers that could mean many things at once, and that even after all these years he still couldn’t fully decipher in time.
"Your daughter," she said without changing her tone.
Zuko raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smile.
"Our daughter."
"Yours. I wanted a cat."
Zuko nearly laughed out loud. He covered his mouth with his hand, glanced at Izumi to make sure she was still asleep, then looked back at Mai.
"You didn’t want a cat."
"No," she admitted, settling more comfortably into the pillow, "but it sounds good when I’m trying to make you feel guilty."
Zuko shook his head, still holding back a smile. He leaned over to pick up the blanket that had fallen to the floor and carefully tucked it over Izumi, gently pulling it around her sides without waking her. The little girl didn’t even move.
He dropped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling for a second, exhaling softly.
"So what do we do?"
"Sleep," Mai replied. "That’s what people do at this hour."
"I know, but—"
"I know," she interrupted quietly. "The plan’s canceled. Ugly spirit. What can you do."
She turned her head just slightly toward him. It was the smallest movement, barely anything at all, but in that instant her gaze lost its sharp edge, softening just enough for only him to notice.
Zuko held her gaze for a second longer than necessary, then nodded and let himself sink into the pillow. His hair fell loose around his face. He felt the exhaustion settling into his bones, the quiet of the room, and the small warmth of Izumi between them.
Mai slid beneath the blankets and turned toward the center. Without looking directly at him, she reached her hand over their daughter’s head until she found Zuko’s. Her fingers slipped naturally between his, as though they had always belonged there, and silently intertwined with them.
"Doesn’t it bother you?" he murmured. "Sleeping like this."
"I’d rather she be here than alone with nightmares," Mai replied. "Everything else can wait."
Zuko squeezed her fingers gently.
"I love you," he said softly, almost swallowed by the darkness.
Mai didn’t answer. But her fingers tightened slightly around his.
Time passed slowly. Izumi’s breathing grew deeper, steadier. At some point, the stuffed animal slipped down to her feet.
Without fully opening his eyes, Zuko reached for it and placed it back against her chest. Izumi hugged it automatically, still asleep.
"Mai?" he whispered after a while.
"Mmm…"
"We’ll continue tomorrow."
Mai opened one eye, just barely.
"Don’t make me wait again."
Zuko smiled, though she could hardly see it.
"I won’t make you wait."
"Liar."
"Tomorrow," he repeated, with a calmness that sounded like a promise.
Mai closed her eye again. Her fingers squeezed his one last time.
"Tomorrow."
And the three of them stayed like that.
Hours later, Zuko opened his eyes without knowing why.
The palace was silent. The lamp had gone out long ago, and moonlight streamed through the window, spilling blue tones across the floor.
He lifted his head slightly.
Izumi was still asleep, now lying on her side, the stuffed animal crooked across half her face and her mouth slightly open.
Zuko let out a quiet breath and turned his gaze toward the other side.
Mai’s space was empty.
He frowned, still half asleep, and then he felt it.
The warm weight. The closeness.
He looked down.
Mai was pressed against him.
At some point during the night, she had crossed over Izumi without waking her, and now she was curled against his side, her head resting on his shoulder and one hand spread over his chest. Her legs had tangled with his, seeking him out even in sleep.
She breathed slowly and deeply. And with every inhale, she drifted a little closer, as though her body remembered, even in dreams, where the warmth was.
Zuko watched her for a moment, understanding without needing to think about it.
Mai had always gotten cold easily. He’d known it since the first time they slept together—she always sought out his warmth without asking for it.
He moved carefully, only just enough.
He shifted slightly, making more room without pulling away, and gently nudged Izumi a few inches over. The little girl mumbled something unintelligible, absentmindedly scratched her stomach, and settled again.
Mai, in response, pressed a little closer.
A faint smile tugged at Zuko’s lips, and he pulled the sheet up over both of them.
He looked at Izumi again, the stuffed animal crooked over her face and her hair messy across the pillow.
Then he looked back at Mai, feeling her breathing against his neck and the light weight of her hand over his chest.
He smiled.
No one saw it. No one needed to.
He closed his eyes again, surrounded by the warmth of both of them, and let himself drift back to sleep.