“First off, nothing is on fire. Yet.” for Cyrus/team Avitar :P
A little hypothetical future-fic in the Avitar AU. In which Cyrus doesn’t want to leave the airship when they get to the Fire Nation, and the others attempt an intervention… (also malrus, because you know I am weak for them)
Maleus Abano, of course, belongs to @lavellanlove
“First off, nothing is on fire. Yet.” Cyrus glared around the group of people, all of whom were poised like he was a vase in danger of sliding off a table. Who the fuck did they even think they were, ambushing him like this? He hadn’t even done anything.
“Cyrus.” Hanin stepped forward slightly, singling himself out from the pack. Fuckers. He knew going with them on this bullshit adventure had been a mistake. “We’re… concerned.”
“About what?” Cyrus snapped. “That I don’t want to get off the airship? So fucking what. I can stay here if I want. They,” he jabbed a finger at Ralon and Tais, “always do. Why aren’t you giving them shit for it?”
He expected an insult from Ralon. A joke. Something. But the bastard just looked at him sadly, which only pissed Cyrus off even more.
“I am sure they meant no harm, Cyrus.” Maleus’ voice broke the tense silence, soft and concerned. It seemed he had just woken, climbing the stairs from the lower level. As usual, the man had read the situation quickly. “If you would please,” he continued, this time addressing the larger group. “There is much that needs to be prepared before you depart. It would be unwise to delay.”
It was obvious Hanin didn’t like the idea. Cyrus could tell by the way the man’s lips became thin and his shoulders stiffened. But when he made eye-contact and Cyrus just looked away, Hanin gave a quiet sigh. “Of course.” He turned and exchanged some low words with the rest of the gathering, and they dispersed like petals in a breeze, disappearing into the various rooms of the airship.
That left just Maleus.
Cyrus spared the man a brief glance before turning away, pretending to busy himself with the intricate paneling on the wall. “Good timing. As always.”
“What was all of that about?” Soft footsteps signaled Maleus’ approach. “Is… are you well?”
The cynical huff Cyrus gave in response was probably enough of an answer. But he expanded because it was Maleus. If anyone had even the slightest chance of understanding…
“It’s just… It’s been so long since I was last here. I don’t…” Cyrus shook his head. He had even been avoiding the airship’s windows. “I… always felt like a stranger in Republic City.”
He felt the corner of Maleus’ sleeve brush against him as he moved to his side. “And you fear you will feel like one again, even though you are home.”
It wasn’t a question. Cyrus nodded anyway, the movement small and uncertain. Ashamed. Embarrassed. “I just hate being this fucking ridiculous, Mal,” he said suddenly, reaching up and scrubbing his face with his hands. “It’s such bullshit, but I can’t… just the idea of walking out there and feeling nothing…”
This time Maleus reached out, resting a hand on Cyrus’ shoulder. “It’s not ridiculous,” he said softly, and Cyrus knew immediately where his mind might have gone. He kicked himself for his selfishness. “You don’t need to go, if you are truly against it. No one here will force you.”
Cyrus snorted. “Tell that to the angry mob.”
“They were not angry, Cyrus.”
“… I know.” This time, Cyrus turned to face Maleus fully. The man’s expression wasn’t pitying or sad. Just… patient. Understanding. He always was.
Fuck, he deserved a lot better than this shit.
Suddenly, Cyrus reached out, snagging Maleus’ hands, holding them in his. He moved quickly not because he was trying to shock the other man, but so he couldn’t talk himself out of it.
“Come with me.” A pause. A nervous swallow. “Please.”
Maleus raised his brows, but only for a moment as he pieced together Cyrus’ request. “Of course. You know I always planned to.”
“I know,” Cyrus said quickly, heart stammering. What was he doing? “I just… wanted to ask you for once. Because you always do shit for me and I don’t want you to feel like I just… expect it. Or I don’t appreciate it. I do. So…” He trailed off, feeling like the most immense idiot to walk the face of the planet. Actually, even worse. His stupidity had also graced the air.
Instead of attempting more words, he just squeezed Maleus’ hands slightly, hoping that would be enough to say what he could not trust himself to voice. I need you. I’m sorry for needing you. I want you to need me too.
Maleus squeezed back, the action almost firm. Resolute.
“I will always be there for you, Cyrus, whether or not you thank me or ask me for it. But…” The man smiled, releasing one of Cyrus’ hands to tip his chin up so they were seeing eye-to-eye. “I will not pretend it is not nice to hear it is… appreciated.”
Cyrus snorted softly, eyes flicking to the side. “Yeah well, more people should appreciate all the shit you do. Me most of all.”
He could practically feel Maleus soften the way he always did when he felt particularly touched by something. Spirits, the man was too much. You’d think Cyrus had declared him a saint, rather than just spoken the obvious.
“That… is very kind of you.”
“No, it isn’t.” This time, Cyrus did look at him. Fully. Properly. He could lose himself in those warm brown eyes. “I… can do a lot better. This is just me… starting.”
He could do better. He would do better. Starting was always the hardest part for Cyrus.
But as Maleus beamed and pulled him in for a hug that could quite possibly solve all the world’s ills, Cyrus had to admit… this time it wasn’t really hard at all.
