TSURAK ATTACK AND STORM CONFESSION
Pairing: Aonung x sully!reader
Warnings: Jake as a father, kissing, flirting disguised as arguing, injury, + chaos at the end
Summary: Tuk almost died because they weren't paying attention. Now Y/N and Aonung have to deal with the consequences. The guilt? Manageable. Admitting they're in love? Significantly harder. Well that's when the storm comes in the play.
The day had been going well, too well, really, which should have been the first warning.
Y/N Sully balanced effortlessly on the rocky outcrop, her bowstring taut between her fingers as she tracked the school of fish darting through the shallows below. The water was clear, the sun warm against her shoulders, and Tuk's excited giggles from where she crouched nearby were a constant, comforting hum beneath the sound of the waves.
Aonung, of course, ruined it.
"Your stance is off," he muttered just as she loosed her spear. It struck the water a second too late, and the fish scattered in a silver flash.
She clenched her jaw. "My stance is fine."
"Your spear arm wobbles like a newborn's," Aonung added, leaning against a nearby rock with that insufferable half-smirk. His own catch, three fat fish already strung on a vine, swung lazily from his hip while Y/N's fingers twitched at her sides, already preparing for a punch.
"Maybe if you shut your mouth for once, I wouldn't miss," Y/N snapped, whirling on him so quickly that her braids lashed against her shoulders.
His smirk didn't falter. If anything, it widened, infuriatingly unbothered.
Tuk giggled again, crouched far too close to the water's edge, her tiny fingers skimming the surface as she tried to catch minnows.
"You’re blaming me for your bad aim now?" Aonung drawled, rolling his shoulders as though he were settling in for a proper argument. The tide licked lazily at the rocks beneath them, but beyond the cove the sky had already begun to bruise purple along the horizon, the familiar warning of a storm gathering out at sea. Y/N barely noticed. She was too busy imagining how satisfying it would be to wipe that smirk off his face with her fist.
Tuk's delighted squeal twisted suddenly into a sharp gasp, then a scream, high and panicked, cutting through the salt-heavy air like a knife.
Y/N spun toward the sound just in time to see her little sister's small hands clawing at the surface, fingers spread wide before she was dragged beneath the water with a violent splash. The sea churned where she vanished, bubbles bursting upward in frantic streams.
Y/N didn't think as she lunged forward, her forgotten spear clattering against the rocks as her knees slammed into wet stone and both arms plunged into the shallows. Her fingers brushed nothing but froth and the slick pull of retreating waves.
The name tore from her throat, raw and desperate.
Aonung's mocking smirk vanished instantly.
He was moving before Y/N could shout again, diving into the water in a clean arc, his body cutting through the waves with the effortless precision of someone born to the sea.
Dark shapes writhed beneath the surface.
It’s not a fish. It’s something larger and alive.
Y/N's pulse hammered against her ribs as she waded in after him, icy water climbing her shins while panic tightened around her chest like a vice. She couldn't see clearly through the churned-up water. Couldn't reach far enough. Couldn't do anything except watch.
He broke through the waves with a gasp, Tuk clutched tightly against his chest.
The creature, some eel-like monstrosity streaked with faint bioluminescent markings, still clung to her ankle, its jaws locked in a vicious grip.
Aonung snarled something low and wordless.
One arm remained wrapped around Tuk while the other drove his hunting knife downward.
The water darkened around them.
The creature convulsed violently before going limp, its grip finally loosening as it slipped beneath the surface and disappeared into the depths.
Tuk trembled uncontrollably when Y/N gathered her into her arms.
Her sobs were muffled against Y/N's collarbone, her fingers digging into her sister's arms as though she feared she might vanish if she let go.
"I've got you," she whispered, pressing her lips against Tuk's damp curls while her own breath came in ragged gulps. "I've got you, Tuk-Tuk."
Aonung waded toward them, his expression unreadable, his usual arrogance replaced by something strained and quiet.
For a moment his hands hovered uncertainly near Tuk's back, as though he wasn't entirely sure he had the right to comfort her now.
"She okay?" he asked, his voice rough.
Y/N swallowed hard before nodding. "Just scared."
She adjusted Tuk in her arms, trying to ignore the way her own legs shook from the rush of adrenaline.
"We need to get her home."
Tuk tightened her grip immediately.
"Don't wanna go in the water again."
The words twisted painfully in Y/N's chest.
Before she could reply, Aonung stepped forward, his jaw set with quiet resolve. “I’ll carry her,” he declared, his words carrying the weight of an order rather than an offer.
Something hot and defensive flared in Y/N's chest, but before she could argue, Tuk lifted her tear-streaked face and reached toward him.
“Okay,” she whispered, her voice so soothing it silenced every protest Y/N could muster.
Aonung took her carefully, settling her against his side with surprising gentleness, one hand resting lightly against her back.
Within moments Tuk sagged against him, exhausted, her small frame finally surrendering to the aftermath of fear.
Y/N clenched her fists, feeling a surge of frustration. She should have been the one carrying Tuk, the one to pull her from the water. Yet, it was Aonung who had moved faster, who had saved her. The realisation left a bitter taste in her mouth.
"Let's go," she muttered quietly.
Behind them, the first drops of rain began to fall.
The wind whipped the waves into frothing peaks behind them, and the first crack of thunder split the sky just as they reached the woven pathway leading to the Sully family's marui.
Jake Sully was already standing in the doorway, his silhouette sharp against the glow of the hearth.
His expression darkened as he observed Tuk’s limp form in Aonung’s arms, the trembling of Y/N’s hands at her sides, and the unnatural pallor that had settled over both their faces. Rain slashed sideways through the open doorway, soaking the woven floor mats and bringing the storm’s scent inside.
“What happened?” Jake’s voice was low and dangerous, a tone that could make even the reef’s boldest predators retreat.
"It was a tsurak," Aonung said, his voice flat and his shoulders squared as though he were bracing for a blow.
The creature slithered through Metkayina legends like venom through a wound, whispered about in hushed tones around dying cookfires. Elders spoke of bioluminescent streaks pulsing through the blackest depths and jaws capable of swallowing a child whole.
Jake's eyes flicked immediately to Tuk's ankle, where dark bruises were already beginning to bloom beneath the skin.
Something in his face went still.
Neytiri appeared behind him, her fingers curling around the doorframe until her knuckles whitened. Her gaze locked onto Tuk’s tear-streaked face before sharply shifting toward Y/N.
“Explain.” It wasn’t a request.
Y/N opened her mouth, but the confession lodged in her throat before it could form.
We weren't paying attention. I let her get too close. I was too busy arguing with him.
The truth tasted like failure.
Beside her, Aonung shifted Tuk's weight in his arms, his jaw tightening.
"She wandered too deep," he said more quietly. "The tsurak was hunting near the reef. It..."
"You were supposed to be watching her."
Jake stepped forward, rainwater dripping from his braids, his voice dropping into a low snarl.
The accusation wasn’t against Aonung; it was directed at Y/N.
She felt it land like a slap. She flinched to which Aonung stiffened immediately.
Behind Jake, Neytiri's tail lashed once, sharp enough to crack through the silence.
"It wasn't just her," he said, his voice rough. "I was there too. I didn't see..."
Neytiri stepped forward and took Tuk from his arms before he could finish.
Tuk whimpered but didn't resist, curling into her mother's chest like a frightened hatchling seeking shelter. Neytiri's fingers traced the bruises around her ankle, her nostrils flaring as she examined the injury.
The silence that followed settled heavily over the room, thick enough that it felt almost physical, pressing into Y/N’s ribs with every breath she took.
Neytiri did not speak at first. Her arms remained firm around Tuk, who had begun to quiet in her grasp, the earlier terror slowly giving way to exhaustion, her small fingers still curled tightly into the fabric of her mother’s chest as if she feared the world might take her again if she let go. Neytiri’s eyes, however, had not softened. They moved between Y/N and Aonung with a steady, unyielding focus, taking in every detail, every tremor of guilt, every drop of rain still clinging to their skin.
"You both failed," she said at last, her voice low and absolute, cutting cleanly through the lingering storm outside.
The words landed with a finality that made Y/N’s throat tighten painfully, because there was no anger left in them anymore, no heat to argue against or defend herself from, only truth, heavy and undeniable.
The thought pressed into her chest until it hurt to breathe.
Jake exhaled through his nose, turning slightly away as though even looking at them a moment longer was difficult, his shoulders tightening beneath the weight of exhaustion and something deeper, something closer to disappointment than fury.
Y/N clenched her hands at her sides, nails biting into her palms as she tried not to let the pressure behind her eyes spill over, because crying would not fix anything and it would not undo what had already happened, and she knew, even without being told, that neither of them would accept excuses.
Aonung stood rigid beside her, rain still dripping from the ends of his braids onto the woven floor, his usual confidence nowhere to be found beneath the silence that wrapped itself around him. His jaw was tight, but he did not speak, and the absence of his voice felt almost unfamiliar in a way that made everything worse.
For a long moment, no one moved.
The storm outside filled the gap between them instead, wind pressing against the walls of the marui and rain striking the woven structure in uneven, restless rhythms that mirrored the tension inside.
It was Tuk’s small sound that finally broke it, a soft, tired sniffle as she shifted in Neytiri’s arms, her grip loosening just slightly now that she was safe again, though not entirely willing to let go. Neytiri immediately adjusted her hold, brushing damp hair back from Tuk’s face with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the severity in her expression.
Jake finally turned back toward them, his gaze lingering on Y/N for a moment longer than Aonung, something unreadable passing through his eyes before he spoke again, quieter now, controlled but firm.
“We take her to Ronal,” he said.
After that, there was no discussion, only movement and the lingering weight of everything that had already been said. There was an unspoken understanding that nothing about this would be forgotten easily, not by any of them.
Tsahik's hut sat farther back from the shore, where the reef’s constant roar dulled into something steadier, like a deep breath held beneath the surface of the world. The path there was walked in near silence, broken only by the soft sound of Tuk’s occasional whimper as she shifted in Neytiri’s arms, and the steady rhythm of rainwater dripping from Aonung’s braids onto the packed sand beneath their feet.
Jake led the way without looking back, his shoulders set in a rigid line that made it clear this was not a walk, but a decision already made and being carried out. Neytiri followed closely behind, her grip on Tuk never loosening, as if holding her was the only thing preventing the moment from breaking further. Y/N walked slightly behind them, each step weighed down by the presence of Aonung beside her, though she did not look at him yet, not while her thoughts remained too raw to safely confront.
When they arrived, Ronal was already waiting.
She did not ask what happened at first, because whatever urgency had brought them here was already written across their bodies in salt, bruises, and exhaustion. Instead, she stepped forward with calm precision and took Tuk from Neytiri’s arms without hesitation, lowering the child onto a woven mat near the hearth where the light was warm and steady, untouched by the storm still raging outside.
"It was tsurak," Aonung said before anyone else could speak, his voice rough and immediate, as though the words had been sitting too long in his throat.
Ronal pressed her palm flat against Tuk’s ankle, her fingers spreading carefully over the bruised skin as she examined the injury with quiet precision, her touch steady in a way that made it clear she was reading far more than just what could be seen on the surface.
“Tsurak,” she murmured, her voice low and deliberate as she kept working, “do not hunt near the reef.”
Her golden eyes lifted then, sharp and unflinching, settling on Y/N and Aonung in a way that made the air feel suddenly thinner, as though the space inside the hut itself had tightened around them.
“They live in the deep waters. Far from here.”
Aonung shifted slightly beside Y/N, his tail giving a small, restrained flick against the floor, a rare sign of discomfort he did not try to hide but also did not explain.
“They are drawn to noise,” Ronal interrupted without looking away from Tuk for long, her fingers pressing lightly again against the child’s ankle as though following something invisible beneath the skin, something only she could interpret.
“Loud sounds. Disturbances.”
Her gaze lifted again, slower this time, and lingered on Aonung before moving to Y/N’s hands, still clenched tightly at her sides as if she could hold the moment from falling apart by force alone.
“The tsurak hear it. They follow.”
Y/N felt it in her chest first, a pressure that made the memory come back too clearly, the raised voices, the heat of anger, the sharpness of every word exchanged too close to the water.
Aonung’s tail flicked again, the motion smaller this time, almost involuntary, and the tip brushed lightly against Y/N’s calf before he seemed to register it, both of them stiffening at the contact as if it had been far more deliberate than it actually was. He did not move away, but he also did not acknowledge it, only tightening his jaw and fixing his gaze somewhere beyond the far wall where the storm still beat against the woven sides of the hut.
Jake finally turned fully from the doorway, the shift slow but decisive, and his eyes, dark and unreadable, locked directly onto Y/N.
Y/N’s throat tightened at Jake’s words.
“Yes,” she admitted, the word coming out rough, like it had to be pulled free. Aonung didn’t speak beside her, but his silence carried just as much weight, sharp and unavoidable in the small space between them.
Jake exhaled slowly through his nose. “You realize,” he said, voice low, “that one day, you’ll both be leading your people.”
Oh, believe us, we both know that.
Aonung’s jaw tightened slightly, his fingers twitching once at his sides before he forced them still.
“That’s why we train,” he muttered, the defensiveness quick to surface even if it didn’t fully hold. “To learn.”
Jake’s gaze shifted to him immediately. “Learn what?”
Aonung swallowed, his throat working as he tried to answer and didn’t quite manage to find one. Whatever confidence he usually wore wasn’t there anymore, stripped down to something tighter and less certain.
Jake’s hand flexed once against his thigh, then again before he let out a slow, controlled breath and turned away from them.
“We’ll talk in the marui,” he said, his voice low enough that it almost disappeared under the storm. It wasn’t offered as a choice, and the set of his shoulders made it clear there wouldn’t be space for disagreement.
Y/N swallowed, her throat dry despite the rain cascading down her skin and soaking through her clothes. She didn’t need to look at Aonung to know he was beside her, completely still, as if even the slightest breath might worsen the situation.
Then Jake added, quieter but sharper “Alone.”
Something shifted in Aonung at that, seeing that his posture tightened, though he still said nothing.
The walk back carried that silence with it.
Only the storm filled the space between them, wind pushing through the trees and rain hitting the ground hard enough to blur the path beneath their feet. Their footsteps sank into the mud in steady rhythm, but no one spoke to break it.
Halfway back, movement broke through the rain ahead of them, and Lo’ak and Neteyam emerged from the downpour.
“What happened?” Neteyam demanded immediately, his attention snapping straight to Y/N as he reached for her arm. “We heard—”
“Later,” Jake cut in without slowing, stepping between them and continuing forward as if the interruption had never fully existed. His hand came down on Lo’ak’s shoulder, firm and guiding, redirecting him without force but with no room to resist.
“I need to speak with your sister alone.”
Lo’ak opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, but Neteyam caught his wrist before he could, holding him back with a quiet look that said enough without words. The protest died before it could fully form, swallowed by the weight in Jake’s voice and the tension in his posture.
Y/N kept walking, with her chest tightening, because even without turning around, she could feel all of them watching her go.
Kiri was waiting in the marui when they arrived, perched on a woven mat. She took one look at Jake's face and rose without a word. As she passed Y/N, she gave her elbow a brief squeeze, equal parts comfort and warning. The woven door flap fell shut behind her with a soft rustle, leaving Y/N alone with her father.
Jake stood by the centre of marui, his hands bracing against its edge and shoulders bowed beneath an invisible weight. Firelight cast shadows across his back, revealing old scars from battles Y/N had only ever heard about in stories.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough.
The words hit harder than any shout. Y/N dug her nails into her palms and replied, “I do.”
"Then why?" Jake turned to face her, his eyes reflecting the firelight. There was no warmth in them, only something sharper. "Why let it get that far?"
He remained still, rainwater trickling from his braids onto the marui floor, and spoke words that pierced deeper than any blade, without raising his voice or pacing.
"I'm disappointed in you, daughter."
Her stomach dropped. My own father says he is disappointed in me. I should have been better, I am supposed to be better.
Y/N's fingers twitched at her sides. Her throat tightened around a sudden, desperate urge to explain, but what could she possibly say?
That Aonung had provoked her?
That none of it would have happened if he had just kept his mouth shut?
The excuses sounded pathetic the moment they formed. Childish.
"Your job is to protect her with your life," he said quietly.
Jake exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound nearly swallowed by the storm rumbling outside, before he turned away. The line of his shoulders remained rigid beneath the dark ink of his tattoos.
Y/N swallowed against the bitter taste of failure coating her tongue.
"I'm sorry, sir," she managed, the honorific scraping against her throat like sand.
It wasn't enough. It could never be enough. I will never be enough.
Still, the apology escaped anyway, small and desperate in the silence stretching between them.
Jake remained silent and unmoving. His broad back faced her, silhouetted against the firelight like a statue carved from disappointment and storm.
The rejection stung more than any punishment he could have given.
Unable to bear it any longer, she turned...and ran.
The woven door flap slapped against her shoulder as she pushed through it. Wind-driven rain lashed her cheeks like tiny knives, but she didn't stop.
Her bare feet pounded across the slick pathways, the storm's roar swallowing the strangled sound that escaped through her clenched teeth. Behind her, the warm glow of the Sully marui grew smaller with every stride, swallowed by darkness, rain, and the hollow ache spreading through her chest. Somewhere between the marui and the shoreline, her vision blurred.
Saltwater streaked down her face. Whether it came from the storm or her own tears, she couldn't tell.
The sea churned violently beneath the storm’s fury, black waves crashing against each other as the wind tore their crests into frothy white foam. Y/N barely slowed before diving into the churning water.
The cold hit like a punch to the chest, knocking the breath from her lungs.
Let it drown out the echo of dad's words.
Let it smother the memory of Tuk trembling in my arms.
Let it erase the image of Aonung carrying my sister to safety with steady, capable hands when I couldn't.
Y/N kicked harder, driving herself deeper beneath the surface. Salt burned her eyes as she angled toward a submerged cove she had discovered months earlier during one of her reckless solo dives.
She needed to escape everyone and the disappointment reflected in her father’s eyes. I want to run away from myself.
The cove wasn't marked on any clan maps.
A jagged fissure hidden within the reef wall, barely wide enough to squeeze through, opened into a secluded cavern where bioluminescent algae painted the ceiling in swirling shades of blue. Y/N had never shown it to anyone. Not even Lo'ak, with whom she is closest.
Especially not Lo'ak, who would have told Neteyam within the hour.
Now, with her ribs aching and her father's disappointment clinging to her like wet kelp, this small cove was the only place she wanted to be.
Y/N broke the surface with a sharp gasp. Her lungs burned as she wiped saltwater from her stinging eyes.
In that moment, she found herself utterly still, unable to move even a muscle. The cavern around her was bathed in a gentle, ethereal blue light, with delicate ripples of bioluminescence gracefully weaving their way across the surface of the water and casting shimmering patterns on the rugged, jagged stone walls that surrounded her. High above the tranquil pool, perched confidently on a rocky ledge, was a figure whose presence was immediately familiar to her, a sight that stirred a flood of recognition within her mind.
He froze, his hand halfway to a discarded knife beside him. His tail stiffened, and his eyes widened in surprise as they locked onto hers.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The only sounds were the distant drip of water echoing through the cavern and the ragged rhythm of Y/N’s breathing.
“You…” Aonung’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat and lowered his hand slightly, though his fingers remained hovering near the knife. “You followed me?”
Y/N let out a breathless laugh that sounded more like a wheeze.
"Into your secret hideout?" she shot back, hauling herself onto a ledge opposite him. Water streamed from her clothes and pooled beneath her feet. "Don't flatter yourself."
His brows furrowed as the blue glow cast shifting patterns across his face. The tension in his jaw and deepening scowl were illuminated. “Then why are you…”
"Because my father hates me," she snapped, wringing out her braids with more force than necessary.
The words tasted bitter and raw on her tongue. She hadn't meant to say them aloud, especially not to him.
Aonung’s tail flicked, creating ripples across the pool. Uncharacteristically, he had no retort. He simply observed her with that infuriatingly unreadable expression. The algae on the cavern walls pulsed softly, casting shifting shadows that made his features appear older and sharper.
Aonung's fingers twitched toward the knife resting beside him, the movement seeming more like habit than caution.
“Often enough,” he muttered, glancing upwards at the algae-streaked ceiling as if it held some hidden wisdom. His usual smirk was gone replaced by a more subdued expression. “When I need to think.”
Y/N snorted, shaking water from her ears.
"Must be exhausting for you."
She slumped against the damp stone drawing her knees to her chest. The cavern’s salty, faintly metallic smell, reminiscent of churned seawater, filled the air. The surprisingly comfortable silence was soon broken by Aonung’s expression.
He leaned forward with his gaze sharpened and his nostrils flared.
"You're bleeding," he said, his voice stripped of its usual teasing edge, that he has in their usual conversations.
Y/N followed his gaze to the shallow cut along her calf.
Blood, diluted, trickled down her skin and vanished into the pool below.
"From the rocks," she muttered, glancing away. "When I lunged for Tuk."
He crossed the small distance between them and crouched beside her, his attention fixed on the wound. His fingers hovered over her calf for a moment, as though weighing whether she would shove him away, before he pressed a damp strip of woven seaweed against the cut. The sudden sting made her hiss through her teeth.
"Hold still," he said, his voice lower than usual.
With remark behind her teeth, Y/N tensed instinctively, her fingers digging into the damp stone beneath her. Aonung's hands were rough from years of spear training and reef hunting, the skin calloused and worn, yet his touch was surprisingly careful as he adjusted the seaweed wrap and pressed it firmly against the wound.
Overhead, the bioluminescent algae pulsed softly, casting shifting patterns of blue light across the cavern walls. The glow illuminated the concentration etched across Aonung's face, highlighting the furrow between his brows as he worked.
There was something strangely unsettling about seeing him like this; not smirking, provoking or looking for a fight. He is simply focused and quiet. He looks wiser.
Without a word, he tore a narrow strip of woven kelp from the wrist wrap he wore and secured the seaweed bandage in place with practiced efficiency. The movement was so natural that it was obvious he had done this many times before.
He finally leaned back to inspect his work.
“There," he said. "It should stop bleeding now."
The silence between them felt heavier than the storm raging beyond the cavern walls.
Y/N found herself watching the way Aonung's hands moved as he secured the final knot in the bandage, his fingers quick and precise in a way that felt completely at odds with the lazy arrogance he usually carried around like a second skin. When he finished, he sat back on his heels, his tail flicking once behind him.
"It'll hold," he said gruffly. "Unless you plan on falling onto another rock."
Y/N flexed her leg, testing the bandage. The sting had dulled considerably, muted by whatever medicinal properties the seaweed possessed.
I’d never thanked him before, not when he’d rescued me from a riptide during training or saved Tuk.
The realisation settled heavily in her stomach.
Aonung snorted and shifted back to his side of the ledge. "Don't get sentimental."
Then he picked up a loose pebble and tossed it into the pool, with a gesture that felt more absent-minded than mocking. Ripples spread across the glowing water, distorting their reflections beneath the bioluminescent light.
Silence settled between them once more. Y/N stared down at her reflection as the water stretched and warped her features with every passing ripple. Her braids hung loose and tangled from the storm, and there was still dried salt clinging to her skin.
Her voice barely carried beyond the steady drip of water echoing through the cavern. Aonung went completely still.
His fingers paused around another pebble.
She added, “If you hadn’t been there…”
The memory was still too fresh.
Tuk disappearing beneath the surface.
The water closing overhead.
Aonung looked away first, his grip tightening around the pebble as he stared into the glowing pool below them.
"If I hadn't been there," he said slowly, "the tsurak wouldn't have come at all."
The pebble left his hand with more force than necessary, striking the water and sending ripples racing across the cavern.
"My mother said it herself. Tsurak follow disturbances. Noise. Fighting. We were arguing like children, making enough commotion for every predator in the reef to hear us."
His jaw clenched. “We were behaving like fools.”
Aonung rested his forearms on his knees and continued staring into the water.
"I was pushing because I was angry, and you kept pushing back because you were angry too, and neither of us cared what was happening around us until it was too late."
Y/N exhaled slowly. “Yeah.” The agreement tasted bitter. “We were.”
She traced a finger along the edge of her bandage.
Aonung’s head jerked up in surprise but he quickly schooled it back into neutrality. He studied her for a long moment his gaze tracing the exhaustion in her slumped shoulders and the slight tremor in her fingers against the stone. The cave’s blue glow softened his usual sharp features making him appear younger and almost vulnerable.
"You're admitting fault?" he asked finally, his voice carefully neutral. "That's new."
Y/N scowled, picking at a loose thread in her makeshift bandage. "Don't make it weird." The words came out half-hearted, lacking their usual bite. "She could've died because of us."
The pebble in Aonung's hand cracked against the far wall with sudden violence, the sharp sound echoing through the cavern. "I know." His voice was raw, stripped bare of its usual arrogance. When Y/N looked up, his fingers were clenched so tight around another stone that his knuckles gleamed white in the bioluminescent light. "She trusted us. Both of us. And we—" He exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound jagged. "We failed her."
Y/N swallowed against the lump in her throat. Outside, the storm howled against the cave mouth, waves slamming into the reef with enough force to send tremors through the rock beneath them. Inside, the silence between them felt heavier than the ocean's weight.
Aonung shifted abruptly, his tail flicking droplets of water across the ledge.
His jaw tightened as he added, “We’re supposed to be leaders, future leaders, anyway.” He let out a humourless laugh and shook his head. “And today we were just stupid kids.”
Staring into the rippling water below, she gazed at her reflection. Salt had left her braids tangled and uneven, while dark shadows lingered beneath her eyes.
"I didn't even see it happen," she admitted quietly. "I was so busy being angry at you that I didn't notice Tuk wandering deeper until..."
“Until she screamed.” Aonung’s voice was flat and weary as he finished his sentence. He picked up another pebble rolling it between his fingers before dropping it into the water. “Same.”
Y/N glanced at him. Perhaps for the first time since they’d met, Aonung seemed completely stripped of his usual confidence. His shoulders curved inward and the rigid line of his spine held a tension no amount of posturing could disguise.
Aonung exhaled and rubbed his palms against his thighs as though trying to scrub away the memory itself.
"My father won't say it."
His gaze remained fixed on the water. "But he's disappointed too."
Y/N's eyes drifted to his hands as his fingers found the necklace resting against his chest. He traced the intricate weave absentmindedly, following its familiar pattern.
The same necklace Tuk had clung to while he carried her back to shore.
Aonung swallowed. "Not just because of Tuk." His voice dropped lower. "Because of everything."
Y/N frowned slightly. She'd never considered that Tonowari might look at his son and see the same failures her dad saw in her. That beneath Aonung's arrogance, there might be the same crushing weight of expectation.
"I guess we're both disappointments, then," Y/N said, watching a droplet of water slide down the cave wall.
Aonung's tail struck the stone ledge with enough force to send a spray of water into the pool below. The algae's glow caught the sudden tightness around his eyes before he turned his face away. "You were never a disappointment to me," he said, so softly the words almost drowned in the cave's echoes.
Y/N wondered for a moment if she had misheard him. Surely I had.
Aonung didn't repeat himself. Just stared at the cave wall as if it held the answers to some unspoken question, his fingers tracing the edge of his knife sheath like a nervous habit she'd never noticed before. The bioluminescent algae pulsed slower now, their light dimming as the storm outside reached its peak, wrapping the cavern in an eerie, flickering twilight.
Y/N suddenly realised her heartbeat was too fast. Far too fast
"Then why—" She swallowed, the words sticking. "Why do you act like you hate me?"
His shoulders tensed. "I don't—" He drew in a sharp breath and dragged a hand across the back of his neck. When he spoke again, his voice was rougher, scraped raw. "It's easier."
"That can't be true," she said, her voice scraping low. "You definitely were disappointed when I kept falling off my ilu the first year we came here."
Aonung's tail flicked sharply against the ledge, scattering droplets. "That was different." His jaw worked around the words as if chewing through tough meat. "You were—" He exhaled sharply through his nose. "You kept getting back on, no matter how many times you fell. Even when the whole clan laughed." His ocean eyes flicked to hers, unguarded for once. "I wasn't disappointed...I was astonished."
Y/N's fingers stilled against her damp bandage. She remembered those early days; her knees bruised purple from ilu saddles, Aonung's mocking laughter ringing across the waves as she surfaced sputtering for the dozenth time.
"You laughed loudest," she pointed out, voice flat.
Aonung's shoulders hunched. "Because it was safer than telling you—" He cut himself off, tossing another pebble into the pool where it sank like a stone between them. "Doesn't matter now."
"It does." Y/N lunged forward, her bandaged calf scraping against rough stone as she grabbed his wrist. The bioluminescent algae pulsed overhead, painting their tangled fingers in eerie blue. "Tell me now" Her voice cracked like breaking ice.
Aonung's pulse jumped beneath her grip. For three heartbeats, the only sound was the distant roar of the storm and the slow drip of water down the cave walls. Then he exhaled like he'd been holding the breath for years.
"It was safer than telling you..." he whispered, the words barely audible above the cave's echoes, "how starstruck I was by you."
The words landed like a spear to the chest. Y/N’s grip slackened around Aonung’s wrist. The cave’s bioluminescent algae pulsed slower now, their dimming glow stretching the silence between them into something taut and fragile.
"Starstruck," she repeated, the word tasting foreign on her tongue.
Aonung’s throat worked as he swallowed, his gaze fixed stubbornly on the rippling pool between them. "By your... personality," he muttered, as if reciting a memorized list. "Courage. Ambition." A muscle twitched in his jaw. "And beauty too, I guess."
Y/N's jaw went slack. The cave’s bioluminescence flickered across Aonung’s face, illuminating the way his ears twitched backward. Her fingers, still loosely curled around his wrist, felt the rapid flutter of his pulse against her fingertips.
"Beauty," she echoed, voice hollow with disbelief.
Aonung’s tail lashed once, sending droplets skittering across the ledge. "Forget I said that." He tried to pull his wrist free, but her grip tightened reflexively.
"You were starstruck?" The words tumbled out before she could stop them, half-choked on something between incredulity and the dawning realization that this was the missing piece. All those years of barbed comments, of him pushing her into the water during training, of lingering stares she’d written off as contempt.
His ears turned deeper blue. "I said forget it."
The cave’s algae pulsed dimly, painting the sharp planes of his face in bruised blues. Y/N exhaled shakily, her fingers loosening around his wrist but not letting go. "I... I looked up to you when we first came here," she admitted, the confession scraping raw against her throat. "You knew the ocean like it was part of you. I thought—" Her voice hitched. "I hoped I would have been able to learn from you. But you didn't even see me."
Aonung's fingers twitched beneath hers, his pulse jumping like a startled fish against her grip. The cave's bioluminescent glow flickered across his face as he exhaled sharply through his nose. "From the moment you stepped off that ikran," he muttered, his voice rough with something Y/N couldn't name, "I couldn't look away."
The cave’s bioluminescence pulsed slower now, the algae dimming as if holding its breath alongside them.
“You left me in the middle of that first spear-throwing lesson. Walked off like I was nothing.” The cave’s algae pulsed dimly, casting his flinch in bruised blue light.
Aonung’s throat worked. He didn’t pull away. “I panicked,” he admitted, voice gravel-rough. “My hands shook so badly I thought I’d drop the spear. Blushed like a hatchling seeing their first eclipse.”
"You... blushed." The words came out half-strangled. She remembered that day with crystalline clarity; Aonung tossing his spear aside mid-lesson, his retreating back rigid with something she'd mistaken for disdain. Not once had she imagined his ears burning beneath the surface or his palms slick against the harpoon's grip.
Aonung's fingers twitched beneath hers. The cave's algae pulsed weakly, illuminating the way his throat moved as he swallowed. "You were standing too close," he muttered, staring resolutely at the water between them. "Kept leaning over my shoulder to see the grip. Your braid kept brushing my arm." His tail lashed once, sending droplets skittering across the ledge. "It was... distracting." The algae suddenly lost their glow and they were met with darkness.
"You ran away," Y/N breathed, the realization dawning like sunrise over open water, "because you got a boner."
Aonung’s tail smacked the ledge with a wet thwap, his ears flattening against his skull. "I panicked," he hissed, yanking his wrist free with enough force to send droplets flying. The darkness hid his expression, but the sudden rigidity of his spine was unmistakable. "You—your braid smelled like—" His fingers flexed violently. "It doesn’t matter."
Y/N’s lips parted. "You panicked," she repeated, voice climbing an octave. "Because I smelled nice?"
Aonung exhaled sharply through his nose with a sound caught between frustration and something embarrassingly close to a whimper. The cave's algae flickered weakly back to life, casting his grimace in fleeting blue light. "Not just nice," he muttered, fingers digging into the ledge beneath them. "Like that stupid oil you rub on your spears and the yellow fruits you seem to never leave alone. Like—" His throat clicked as he swallowed. "Like you."
She remembered that day and the way Aonung had stiffened when she leaned in, which she had mistaken for disgust. "All this time," she whispered, "I thought you hated me."
Aonung's tail lashed once, violently, sending ripples across the pool. "I tried to." The admission came out raw, scraped from somewhere deep. "It would've been easier."
She looked at Aonung’s face; his jaw clenched tight, his blue eyes fixed stubbornly on the cave wall. Y/N’s fingers hovered between them, still tingling from the heat of his wrist.
"Easier," she echoed. The word tasted bitter. "Because hating me meant you wouldn’t have to admit—"
"—that I’m an skxwang," Aonung finished flatly. His fingers dug into the stone ledge, knuckles whitening. The algae’s flickering glow caught the tightness around his eyes. "My father told me to train you. Not to—" His tail lashed once. "Not whatever that was."
Y/N exhaled sharply through her nose. The cave’s damp air smelled suddenly of salt and something like ozone before lightning strikes. Her fingers twitched against the ledge. "So instead of teaching me," she said slowly, "you spent years being insufferable."
Aonung’s ears flattened. "Worked, didn’t it?" His voice lacked its usual bite. "You got good. Better than good. You surpassed me." The admission came out grudging, but not insincere. "Even if it wasn’t by my hand."
Y/N’s fingers traced the damp edge of the seaweed bandage still wrapped around her calf. The cave’s bioluminescent algae pulsed faintly, casting shifting shadows across Aonung’s face as she studied him—really studied him—for the first time. "I watched you," she admitted, voice barely above the cave’s echoes. "After you left me that first lesson." Her thumb pressed against the kelp weave, remembering. "Every spear throw, every dive, every time you adjusted your grip on the harpoon. I memorized it."
Aonung’s breath caught in his throat. His fingers remained pressed against the ledge, water trickling from his braids onto the stone between them.
She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze squarely. "I practiced until my hands bled. Until I could outswim Rotxo, outmaneuver Tsireya." A pause. "Until I matched you."
Aonung’s throat worked. The algae’s glow caught the way his pupils dilated—black swallowing turquoise. "You watched me," he echoed, voice rough.
Y/N’s pulse thundered in her ears. "Every time." The confession hung between them, fragile as sea foam. She remembered those stolen moments; Aonung’s effortless grace in the water, the flex of his shoulders when he hauled himself onto the docks, the way his laughter carried across the waves when he thought no one was listening.
Aonung exhaled sharply, his tail lashing once. "Eywa," he muttered. His fingers uncurled slowly, brushing against her wrist where it rested on the stone between them. His touch burned hotter than the wound on her calf.
"You watched me," Aonung repeated, voice dropping to something low and rough. His thumb traced the raised veins along her wrist, following the path of her racing pulse. "All this time?"
She remembered moonlit nights spent mimicking his spear-throwing stance behind empty maruis, dawn patrols timed to coincide with his fishing routes. "Yes," she whispered.
The cave’s algae pulsed weakly, illuminating the way his gaze traced the line of her throat—like a hunter tracking prey, or a diver memorizing currents. "Why?" The word rasped out, raw.
"Because—" Her voice cracked. The truth clawed up her throat, sharp as coral. "I wanted you to look back. Even if only once."
Aonung went utterly still. His thumb froze mid-stroke against her pulse point, his turquoise eyes widening as the admission sank in.
"Look back," Aonung repeated, voice hoarse. His fingers tightened reflexively around hers—not painful, just present, anchoring them both. His thumb traced the ridge of her knuckles with a roughness that sent sparks up her arm. "All those times I turned away..." His breath hitched. "You were waiting."
Y/N swallowed hard. "Yes and you never did," she murmured. "Look back, I mean."
Aonung’s fingers twitched against hers. The algae’s flickering glow caught the sudden tightness around his eyes. "I did," he said, voice scraping low. "Every time."
"Don't lie to make me feel better," she whispered. To which Aonung’s fingers tightened around hers, pressing her palm flat against the damp stone ledge between them. "I counted your braids," he admitted, voice low, rough. The algae’s glow flickered across his face, illuminating the way his jaw worked around the confession. "Every time you turned away—fifty four. The way the light caught the beads when you moved."
Y/N’s breath caught. She remembered the weight of his gaze during training and how she’d assumed it was scrutiny, not this.
"I memorized the scar on your shoulder," Aonung continued, thumb brushing the inside of her wrist where her veins throbbed. "From the tawtute attack when you were twelve. The way it paled when you were cold." His exhale shuddered. "I watched the way you tied your hair back before diving—always three twists of the cord, never four."
"I saw the way you smiled when your siblings were happy," he admitted, voice rough as reef rock. His fingers flexed around hers, hesitant. "Always wondered what I'd have to do for you to give me that smile."
She remembered those moments; Tuk giggling as she braided flowers into Neteyam's hair, Lo'ak splashing Kiri with a well-aimed wave and her own laughter bubbling up unbidden. She'd never noticed Aonung watching.
Y/N's lips curled upwards at that and she ducked her face away, pressing her forehead against the damp cave wall to hide the flush creeping up her neck. The bioluminescent algae pulsed weakly, casting flickering blue light across the water behind them. She heard Aonung shift beside her, his tail lashing once against the stone ledge, droplets scattering like startled fish.
"You're laughing at me," he muttered emberresed, voice rougher than the cave's walls.
"I'm not," Y/N lied, the words muffled against the cool stone. Her shoulders shook once, betraying her. The mental image of Aonung—proud, infuriating Aonung—counting her braids like some lovestruck hatchling was too absurd not to laugh at. Or maybe it was the sudden, dizzying realization that all those years of mutual hostility had been... what? A badly played game of catch?
Aonung's fingers tapped impatiently against the ledge. "Your shoulders are shaking."
Y/N pressed her lips together, shoulders still trembling as she fought to compose herself. The algae pulsed faintly, casting flickering blue light across Aonung's scowling face when his ears were practically glowing with embarrassment. "It's just—" she hiccuped, wiping at her eyes with the back of her wrist. "All this time, we could've been friends instead of—" Her breath hitched on another suppressed laugh. "Instead of whatever we were."
Aonung's tail smacked the ledge with enough force to send droplets flying. "Friends," he repeated flatly, as if the word tasted foul. His fingers twitched toward her before curling into fists against his thighs. "Is that what you want?"
The question landed between them with unexpected weight. Y/N's laughter died in her throat. She studied his profile in the dim light—the tension along his shoulders, the way his fingers dug into his own thighs. This close, she could see the faint scar bisecting his left eyebrow, the one he'd gotten during their first ill-fated sparring match.
"No," she admitted softly. "No, not just friends."
Aonung went very still. The cave’s algae pulsed weakly, illuminating the way his throat moved as he swallowed. His fingers uncurled slowly from his thighs, hovering just above the damp stone between them. "Then what?" The question came out rough, scraped raw.
Y/N exhaled shakily, as if the very air around her was heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. She remembered those moonlit patrols, where she had matched his stride with deliberate care, just to feel the gentle brush of his tail against hers, a silent communication that spoke volumes. "You know..." she murmured.
The algae’s flickering glow caught the way his pupils dilated. "Say it." Aonung’s voice dropped low, a challenge and a plea woven together. "After all this time, you owe me that much."
The storm outside reached a sudden crescendo, waves slamming against the reef with enough force to send tremors through the cave walls. Y/N’s breath hitched as the vibration skittered up her spine. She lifted her chin. "I wanted you to look at me the way you do when you think no one’s watching," she said, "like I was something worth catching."
His fingers hovered above hers, trembling slightly before curling into fists against the ledge. "I did," he whispered. The words sounded scraped raw. "Every damn day."
The only sound was the gentle falling of water droplets from their bodies.
"It only took a tsurak attack," Y/N muttered, shaking her head as the absurdity of it settled between them like sea foam. "A near-death experience for Tuk. A storm. An accidental metting in a cave." Her fingers traced the damp edge of her seaweed bandage. "For us to admit that."
"I’m glad we did," Aonung murmured, voice rough as the cave walls around them.
The algae pulsed weakly overhead, casting flickering shadows across his face as he turned toward her, ocean blue eyes unguarded for once. His tail curled around the ledge, the tip brushing her thigh.
"Glad we almost got Tuk killed?" she asked, but the bite was gone from her voice. Her fingers flexed against the stone, her pinky overlapping his where they rested between them.
Aonung exhaled sharply through his nose. "No." His thumb traced the ridge of her knuckle, calluses catching on her skin. "Glad it forced us here. To this." His gesture encompassed the cave, the storm outside, the space between them where unsaid things hovered like bioluminescence in dark water.
Y/N ducked her chin, hiding the way her lips twitched upward. Aonung’s fingers twitched against hers. Then suddenly, decisively, he reached up, cupping her jaw with surprising gentleness. His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth, coaxing her face upward until the cave’s dim glow caught her expression.
"Don’t hide it," he murmured. His thumb lingered at the edge of her smile. "After all this time, let me see."
Her pulse hammered against her ribs as his palm cradled her jaw with unexpected reverence. Years of harpoon grips had made his fingers rough but they were impossibly tender against her cheekbone. The weakly pulsing algae illuminated the flecks of blue in his eyes – close enough now to count.
Her smile widened as his thumb traced the curve of her lower lip.
Then his fingers curled into her braids with sudden certainty, pulling her forward until their foreheads touched.
Before closing the distance.
The kiss was sweet at first, but then Y/N's fingers found the woven edge of Aonung's loincloth before her mind could catch up. She fisted the damp fabric and yanked him closer, hard enough for their foreheads to bump together.
Aonung grunted, his free hand slamming against the cave wall to steady himself while the other remained tangled in her braids. Around them, the bioluminescent algae pulsed with a faint glow, casting their intertwined shadows across the rippling water.
"Eywa's teeth," Aonung hissed, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he adjusted his grip on her hair, tilting her face upward as his thumb brushed the corner of her mouth once more. "Warn a man next time."
"Next time?" Y/N breathed, the words ghosting across his lips as her grip tightened on his loincloth. The coarse fibers dug into her palm, grounding her just as much as they held him in place.
Aonung's tail lashed once, before curling possessively around her thigh.
"Don't pretend you won't do this again," he muttered. Then his mouth was on hers again, hot and insistent.
By the time dawn crept across the horizon, the storm had softened, leaving behind only the hiss of retreating waves at the cave's entrance. Aonung's fingers lingered in Y/N's braids, as though afraid she would dissolve like sea foam if he let go. His thumb brushed the shell bead at the end of one braid, the gesture absentminded yet intimate.
"They'll be searching by now," Y/N murmured against his collarbone, her words vibrating through his skin. She could already hear the distant calls; Neteyam's voice cutting through the mist, Tsireya's higher pitch threading between the waves.
Aonung exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening momentarily before releasing her. "Dad will have the entire eastern reef combed," he admitted, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for battle.
The water hit Y/N's calves first—cold enough to make her toes curl against the slick cave floor. Aonung didn't hesitate, plunging in up to his waist before turning, his outstretched hand catching the dawn light filtering through the cave's mouth. His fingers dripped saltwater onto her wrist where their skin touched.
"You first," he said, voice rougher than the reef's edge.
Y/N sucked in a breath as the water climbed past her thighs, the chill tightening her muscles. Aonung's fingers flexed around hers, his grip firm enough to anchor but loose enough she could pull away. She didn't. His tail flickered beneath the surface, stirring up bioluminescent plankton that clung to their legs like scattered stars. And then they dunked.
The first breach of daylight stung Y/N’s eyes as they surfaced beyond the cave’s mouth. Saltwater sluiced down her face, mingling with the lingering heat of Aonung’s touch where his fingers had gripped hers moments before. He surfaced beside her with a sharp exhale, shaking water from his braids like an ilu shedding rain.
"Stay close," Aonung muttered, his free hand brushing the small of her back as a swell lifted them. His fingers lingered, just enough to steady her against the current, before he struck out toward the distant shore, his tail cutting through the water with practiced efficiency. Y/N followed, her muscles protesting the cold after hours in the cave’s stagnant warmth.
The reef passed beneath them in a blur of color—crimson fan corals recoiling as their shadows darted overhead, jewel-bright fish scattering from their path. Aonung adjusted his stroke to match hers when she faltered, his shoulder bumping against hers whenever the current threatened to pull them apart. It was nothing like their usual races; no taunting, no reckless dives to prove superiority. Just the steady push toward shore, his presence a constant against her flank.
The shore materialized through the morning mist like a dream half-remembered—first as a dark smudge against the horizon, then resolving into distinct shapes: the hulking silhouettes of warriors stationed along the tide line, the flicker of torches despite the dawn light. Y/N's stomach plummeted when she recognized the tallest figure. Her father's broad shoulders rigid with tension, his tail lashing violently against the wet sand. Beside him, Tonowari stood statue-still, his trident planted deep in the shoreline like a standard of war.
Aonung's hand found her wrist underwater, his fingers tightening briefly before letting go. "Brace yourself," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the waves.
They were twenty strokes from shore when the shouting started. Neytiri's voice cut through the mist first, quivering with something between fury and raw relief. "Skxawng!" The insult carried across the water, but the way her hands trembled as she waded into the surf betrayed her rage as fear in disguise. Behind her, Ronal gripped Tuk's shoulder with white-knuckled intensity, her healing kit strapped conspicuously across her chest like she'd expected to retrieve corpses.
The water turned shallow enough for Y/N’s feet to scrape sand just as Jake’s bellow rolled across the surf: "Get over here!" His voice cracked mid-command which she’d never heard before. Aonung’s fingers brushed her wrist underwater, fleeting but firm, before he straightened his shoulders and strode forward, water sluicing off his thighs with each step.
Y/N braced for impact as Neytiri reached them first. Her mother’s hands seized her face with terrifying gentleness, thumbs brushing salt-crusted cheeks as dark eyes scanned every inch of her for injury. The anger drained from Neytiri’s frame in a visible wave when she found only exhaustion and Aonung’s clumsily tied seaweed bandage. "Stupid child," she whispered when her forehead pressed against Y/N’s with bone-deep relief.
The weight of Jake's glare hit Aonung before the tide could fully recede from their legs. Tonowari hadn't moved but his gaze tracked his son with terrifying stillness. "Explain," he said. Just one word, flatter than stillwater.
Aonung's throat clicked audibly when he swallowed. "The storm drove us into the caves near Three Brothers Reef," he began, voice steadier than his clenched jaw suggested. His fingers twitched at his sides, still damp from their grip on hers underwater. "We waited it out."
Jake's nostrils flared. He looked between them; Y/N's seaweed bandage, Aonung's salt-crusted braids and the space between their bodies that had been nonexistent moments before. His frown deepened. "Waited it out," he repeated, voice dangerously low. His tail lashed once. "That's all?"
Y/N opened her mouth, but Neytiri's grip tightened fractionally on her shoulders. Behind them, Tsireya fidgeted with her armband, her eyes darting between Aonung and the fresh bruise purpling along Y/N's ribcage.
Jake took a step forward, his tail lashing hard enough to kick up sand. "You two—" His voice roughened, fingers flexing like he wanted to throttle something. "You nearly got Tuk killed with your—"
Aonung moved before the accusation fully landed. Three strides. He was positioned slightly in front of Y/N, not quite blocking her but angling his body to absorb Jake's glare. His shoulder brushed hers, warm despite the morning chill.
The entire beach stilled. Tsireya's hands flew to her mouth. Even Tonowari's fingers paused mid-air where they'd been gesturing for calm.
Jake's tirade cut off mid-word. His gaze flicked between them—Aonung's protective stance, the way Y/N's fingers had instinctively curled into the small of Aonung's back without realizing it. Neytiri's grip on Y/N's shoulders loosened slightly, her thumbs brushing the tension from her daughter's collarbones.
Ronal was the first to speak. "Well," she said dryly. "This is new."
Aonung's ears flattened. Jake's nostrils flared as he took another step forward, close enough that Y/N could see the way his braids trembled with suppressed fury. "You have exactly three seconds," he ground out, "to explain why—"
Aonung's fingers twitched at his sides. "It was my fault too," he admitted, the words rough like he'd dragged them over coral. "Our fighting—" He swallowed hard. "It drew the tsurak. I know that."
The confession hung between them like mist over the reef. His gaze flicked to Aonung's shoulder, still pressed against hers, then to Tonowari's impassive face.
Neytiri's fingers tightened briefly on Y/N's arms before releasing. "You admit this," she said slowly, eyes narrowing at Aonung. "Yet you stand together now?"
Y/N stepped around Aonung. "He saved Tuk," she said, voice clear despite the salt crusting her lips. "Tsurak would have taken her if he hadn't acted."
Jake's tail lashed once. Behind him, Tuk buried her face in Tsireya's side, small hands clutching the older girl's armband.
Ronal made a low noise in her throat as she nudged Tonowari's trident with her foot. "Told you," she murmured, too quiet for most to hear.
Aonung's tail twitched against the wet sand. "We talked." The words came out gruff, but his fingers brushed Y/N's wrist underwater.
Jake exhaled sharply through his nose. He looked at Tonowari, who hadn't moved from his trident's shadow. "You hearing this?"
Tonowari's fingers flexed around his trident's shaft, his knuckles whitening against the polished bone. "I hear," he said, voice low enough to make the warriors behind him lean forward. His gaze flicked to Aonung—lingering on the way his son's shoulder still pressed against Y/N's, the way his fingers twitched like he was resisting the urge to reach for her again. "Do you believe it?" he asked Jake, not unkindly.
Jake's nostrils flared as he studied them: Aonung's seaweed-stained hip wrap, Y/N's salt-crusted braids, the space between their bodies that kept shrinking despite the tension thickening the air. "I want to," he admitted gruffly. "But after years of—" He gestured sharply between them. "This—you expect me to buy that one storm fixed it?"
Y/N's fingers brushed against Aonung's wrist under the water—not quite holding, just anchoring herself against the current of Jake's disbelief. The sand shifted beneath her feet as she straightened, meeting her father's glare head-on. "It wasn't the storm, dad," she said, voice steadier than she felt. "It was realizing we'd been idiots."
Aonung's shoulder bumped hers; half solidarity, half warning. His fingers curled around hers underwater, hidden from view but undeniable in their grip. "We needed a push," he admitted, jaw tight. "To see we're not..." His voice trailed off as his thumb traced the inside of Y/N's wrist down the same path he'd followed in the cave. "Not as different as we pretended."
Jake's eyebrows shot up, his gaze darting between their concealed hands and Aonung's suddenly vulnerable expression.
Jake's hand scrubbed down his face hard enough to scrape salt from his cheeks. "No," he growled, the word landing like a harpoon strike. "Absolutely not. It's too early for this." His tail lashed sideways, kicking up sand that pattered against Tonowari's trident and stomps away.
Neytiri's fingers tightened momentarily on Y/N's shoulders before releasing. She leaned close, her breath warm against her daughter's ear as she murmured in Na'vi too rapid for the others to catch: "Your father did not sleep. He paced the shore all night." Her lips twitched upward despite herself. "His tail wore a path in the sand."
Before Y/N could respond, a commotion erupted from the tree line, the distinctive thud of someone tripping over their own tail.
"He was worried you killed him! Now he is worried about different type of activities you two could have done!" Lo'ak's voice carried across the beach as he barreled through the shallows, arms pinwheeling for balance. He skidded to a halt in front of Aonung, dripping seawater onto the sand as he pantomimed a dramatic double-take at their proximity. "Oh eywa—are you two holding hands underwater right now?"
The moment splintered; Lo'ak's grin widening as Aonung's grip on Y/N's wrist tightened reflexively, his tail smacking the water's surface with enough force to splash Tsireya's knees. Tuk giggled into her hands from where she clung to Tsireya's side, her earlier terror forgotten in favor of this new, fascinating drama.
Y/N yanked her hand free with a splash that caught Lo'ak square in the chest. "Shut up," she hissed. Aonung's knuckles brushed her hip underwater.
Jake's groan carried across the beach as he came closer to them again, scrubbing both hands down his face. "For the love of—no, from now on there needs to be at least 15 feet between you two." His tail lashed once as he huffed.
Tonowari's trident creaked in his grip as he studied his son. He watched Aonung's shoulders square beneath the scrutiny and the stubborn set of his jaw before releasing a slow breath.
"I agree. I have no desire to become a grandfather yet. Son, if you are serious about this, you will follow the proper courting customs."
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Aonung nodded. “Of course.”
Lo'ak made a strangled noise somewhere between a laugh and a choke.
"Wait." Jake lifted a hand. "No. No, you don't answer that that fast."
"Because that's the answer of somebody who's already thought about it."
Lo'ak doubled over so abruptly he nearly face-planted into the shallows. "OH, EYWA, HE'S SERIOUS!"
Y/N wished the ocean would open beneath her feet and swallow her whole.
Lo'ak then straightened so fast he nearly lost his balance again, eyes wide with delighted horror.
"Neteyam is still asleep."
Nobody liked the look that appeared on his face.
"Neteyam is still asleep," he repeated, backing away through the shallows. "He doesn't know any of this."
"This is the best day of my life."
He spun on his heel and took off toward the village.
His laughter echoed across the beach as he disappeared over the dunes while Jake stared after his retreating son for a long moment.
"I liked him better when he was lost." Neytiri smacked his arm.
Tonowari cleared his throat, attempting to drag the conversation back under control.
"Then there will be supervision."
Jake's head snapped around immediately.
"No disappearing alone into the reef."
Tonowari considered for a moment, tapping the butt of his trident into the sand.
"That is the customary courting period."
Y/N groaned and buried her face in her hands. "Dad."
"A year?" Aonung echoed, genuinely offended.
"Two years," Jake countered immediately.
Even Neytiri was beginning to lose her battle with a smile. Tonowari's expression remained admirably composed, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.
“Dad!” y/n exclaimed as Aonung opened his mouth.
"Do not negotiate," Jake and Tonowari said in unison.
The two men blinked at each other.
For the first time in their time knowing eachother, he looked at Jake not as another clan leader, but as a father enduring a uniquely terrible trial.
From somewhere deep in the village came Lo'ak's triumphant bellow.
The shout echoed across the shoreline.
"THEY WERE HOLDING HANDS, NETEYAM! HANDS!"
A startled yelp then rang out from somewhere among the marui pods. Followed immediately by a heavy thud.
"Did he just fall out of his hammock?" Tuk asked.
Another crash answered her question.
Lo'ak's cackling carried all the way back to the beach.
"I should've stayed on Earth."
