Author's Notes: With thanks to Ali Wildgoose and La Tropita for offering their poetry stylings (numbers 2 and 3). The poems are supposed to be right-aligned, but senseless war on formatting has assured that they are not.

The first time, Mai largely ignored it. To start, a small strip of parchment, tightly rolled, sitting in front of the door to her home was easy enough to step past unaware. And when one of the servants did deliver it to her attention, its contents did not inspire in Mai much of a desire to acknowledge it any further than she had before.

Were it left to Mai that would have been the end of it. However, the universe was not keen on seeing to Mai's preferences and the messages kept coming. At first they were innocuous enough.

it is summer

the air is hot and my heart

yearns and yearns for you

One of Mai's maids was particularly enamored of the analogies that became the mode of later missives.

the cherry blossom

falls softly to the green grass

as i fall for you

Eventually, the general consensus of all of the household staff seemed to be that the entire affair was delightfully and dashingly romantic. Mai, on the other hand, was glad that she was not easily embarrassed. Not to mention somewhat suspicious that some of her traitorous staff might even be assisting the endeavor. All in all, though, she allowed it to continue unabated and without comment. That was until the poems subsequently became more personal.

(glinting blades glisten

your secret arsenal grows

and so does my love)

So, forced to be on alert with regard to what else might end up written down and lying around where anyone could see, Mai determined that it had to stop.

The decision, however, was much easier than taking action. Mai had been very pointedly not mentioning her receipt of or reaction to the poems to Zuko. Her, clearly flawed, logic being that if she ignored it, it would go away. Zuko had become increasingly suspicious, of course. A few days prior to her decision he'd even done his level best to maneuver her into a confession in the course of their conversation. Luckily for Mai, Zuko had never been either subtle or a particularly fast talker. Though she was forced to admit to herself that there was something endearing about watching him attempt manipulation and deception.

Mai didn't know exactly what force or ideal was making Zuko restrict himself from addressing it bluntly and directly in his normal manner, but it had been convenient up to a point. As sad as she was to end the stalemate, she still did it with little fanfare.

"Zuko?" she said, one afternoon, breaking a minutes long silence. She was holding one of his hands in both of her own as they reclined on a divan in her room, half-caressing, half-massaging his fingers and palm. It was not unheard of for Zuko to drift off and doze during such treatment, able to relax for once. Sure enough, he started when she said his name and there was a confused moment before he responded.

"What?"

"You're a terrible poet," Mai reported, pressing her thumbs into the base of his and moving them in slow circles.

"I- what- you-" Zuko stammered. Silently, Mai enjoyed the way that the mixture of surprise and indignation played on his face, topped off with a faint blush. It never stopped surprising her how much she enjoyed just looking at him.

"Why have you been pretending that you had no idea what was going on?!"

"Because I was hoping that you'd stop," Mai said flatly.

Zuko huffed and snatched his hand away, crossing his arms.

"Stop pouting," Mai said, ignoring the glare he sent her that clearly communicated the many issues he took with that evaluation of his current state. "We already had a conversation about the nebulous 'What Girls Like' so I don't know why you even-"

"It's not that," he interrupted irritably.

Mai rolled her eyes. "Then, I must say, I was unaware that you had such a burning desire to wax on about my lustrous hair outshining my sharp blades."

"No- it's not- I just want to do this right. We didn't-" he paused, clearly searching for words. His expression had shifted again from irritated to that painful earnestness that always made something in Mai's stomach flip-flop.

"In Ba Sing Se, when we...well, wandering through fish markets and falling into fountains isn't exactly how a prince is supposed to woo a lady," he finally managed.

"Zuko, you know I don't care about things like that," Mai responded, utterly sincere. She had him. That was more than adequate.

"But I do care." His face was serious. "You deserve...everything."

Mai felt the blush rising hotly on her cheeks and bore it, her mouth quirking into a smile.

"I am a little tired of haiku though," Zuko admitted with a light chuckle.

Mai rested her head against his shoulder, breathing in his scent. "I am infinitely relieved."

"Well, there was one more..."

Mai buried her face in his chest and groaned. When she cast her eyes back up to his face, he was smiling down at her, open and affectionate.

Mai sighed once more for good measure. "Go ahead," she commanded.

Gently, Zuko lifted Mai off of his chest and into an upright position. He took her hands and cleared his throat, staring intently into her eyes. In her mind, Mai imagined him practicing this in mirrors and at inanimate objects, and her heart swelled with endearment. She would put up with a great deal just because he always went through even more.

"I, uh, didn't really want to write this one down," he explained, a nervous edge in his voice.

Mai raised an eyebrow but said nothing. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper, and he leaned in slightly so that she could hear.

"The taste of your skin

living linen; sweet soft breaths

gasping; i've come home."

Mai swallowed once. Then again. Zuko looked at her expectantly and she remembered that the collar of her clothing meant that he couldn't see the slow flush climbing up her neck. Though it was, at the moment, amazing to her that he could not somehow hear the violent beating of her hear, or, at least, notice the dampness of her palms.

"Mai?" he asked tentatively.

In response, Mai closed the scant distance between them, pressing her mouth, wet and open, against his. She laced her fingers through his hair as she deepened the kiss. After a pause, during which Mai assumed he was gathering his wits, Zuko's hands found purchase on the curves of her waist. Mai subsequently found herself shifted onto his lap as he returned with fervor.

When Mai finally broke away momentarily, Zuko looked at her. He seemed almost dazed as she rested her forehead against his, and his eyes were questioning.

"Maybe you're not so terrible," Mai explained before kissing him again.