Thanks to pizzakate on tumblr for the prompt word xylophone!
"What do you want me to do?" Mako asks.
"Just hold a steady flame over it to sort of seal it against the elements, like those pottery makers do. That way they keys won't become brittle and crack."
"Okay, but what is it?" Mako asks, gesturing to the contraption, a series of slatted clay strips that decrease in size, nailed down to two horizontal pieces of wood.
"It's an instrument," Bolin says defensively. "Can't you tell?"
"Doesn't look like any instrument I've ever seen."
"That's because I sort of invented it."
"I never knew you were such a music lover."
"It's for Iroh," Bolin says shyly. A knowing look passes over Mako's face; everyone knows about the general's love for a good tune.
"Alright," Mako says as he produces flares from his fists. "Let's do this."
"Bolin, it's beautiful," Iroh says in a breathy voice. Bolin passes him two wooden sticks with clay spheres at the end. The general takes them into his hand and makes up a short melody on the spot.
"I'm glad you like it. It's one of a kind," Bolin says. "Just like you."
"I love it," Iroh says, pressing a soft kiss to Bolin's mouth. "But what is the occasion?" he asks curiously.
Bolin fidgets nervously for a moment, the words he wants to say on the tip of his tongue, unable to leave his lips.
"Bo?"
"I wanted to give you something special, as a way to say…"
"To say what?"
"I – I love you," Bolin manages to say. His face flushes and his eyes are trained on the ground.
"Oh, Bo," Iroh says softly. "I love you, too."
The instrument is momentarily forgotten as Iroh captures Bolin's lips in a sweet kiss.