AN: Annual Christmas ficlets are in full swing! Also modern AUs are a lot easier this time of year okay.
Tree Hunt
Three days ago Mai found last year's Christmas tree out by the curbside, even the old decorations in boxes stacked next to the garbage bins.
"We need a real one." Zuko had said, shrugging as he untangled the lights in the living room, draping them over his shoulders even though in reality it only made it worse. But even so, somehow the house became fully decorated, adorned in the lights, stockings strung, and even an inflatable snow globe for the yard.
Now, they're here. Out in the cold and snow, the two things Mai hates and even more so, hates bringing Izumi into. Both of the girls are wrapped in scarves and earmuffs, heavier jackets and boots, Mai tucking the baby into her jacket for further warmth. Meanwhile, even after much scolding all Zuko wears is a thick sweater.
"Can we leave now, Zuko?" Mai protests, pulling the child's scarf up over her nose.
"Not until we get a tree. Let her down, it'll be fine."
She's sure to adjust the baby's clothing several times before reluctantly letting her out into the cold. Immediately Izumi runs, hobbling off as fast as she can on legs just recently learned to walk, stumbling in the white powder until she finally laughs, and Mai is at ease.
"Nothing too big, okay?" She sighs, sitting and watching Zuko out of her peripheral as she starts rolling a small snowman together. "I know you like to get carried away."
The worse of it is, he's carrying a chainsaw, inspecting tree to tree, everything from the trunk to the top where they plan to put the star. Since this season began he's been a bit of a perfectionist. Taking too much time finding the biggest turkey he could on Thanksgiving, to building a gingerbread house—badly, with their daughter and making it a centerpiece for the table.
He's made a point of this the last two years since she was born. Every holiday, every birthday, and every other occasion he could think of had to be absolutely pristine in execution. Not a single hair out of place for fear that he couldn't quite give her the childhood he wanted for her.
In contrast, Mai was just the opposite, watching and waiting as Zuko flung himself from project to project, offering support where needed but never really encouraging such over the top endeavors.
"Preferably, we'll find one today." Mai adds with a smirk, taking sticks from Izumi and sticking one too many arms into their creation.
"We'll find one, I promise."
He doesn't. Izumi does, by latching on the branches of a tree not much bigger than herself.
"See, she knows what she wants. Nothing extravagant, just right for her." Mai says, laughing lightly as the toddler lets go of the branches, in turn, dropping snow that buries her up to her knees. Simultaneously, Zuko manages to slip and toppling and rolling a few feet down the hill. "You are just as bad as your father." Shaking her head, she scoops up their daughter, dusting snow off her pants and kissing her cheeks as she strides past her husband.
For ten minutes she hears the saw going from just up the hill, and still, by the time they make it down Zuko hasn't caught up, nor has the tree. It takes him an hour, and when Mai finally sees him, half of the branches have been lost and he's panting from the effort.
"Hard time?" Mai asks, quirking a brow.
Shooting her a glare, he picks up what's left of their minuscule shrub, tying the pathetic set of broken branches onto the top of the car. "No help from you."
"If you need help picking up a two-foot Douglas Fir, then maybe I have laid my affections in the wrong man."
"Maybe you have."
"Maybe I have."
Izumi giggles, finally awake.
Mai snorts, ruffling Zuko's hair before beginning the trip home. "She agrees. Her dad is definitely a giant idiot."
Decorating takes just as much effort. New ornaments have already color coded the day before, with matching garlands strewn out across the living room floor.
"It isn't even a big enough tree for all of this." Zuko sighs, holding his daughter's hands as she tries to tug and pull away to get to the ornaments.
"And who's fault might that be, hm?"
"Whatever."
When Zuko lets the baby go, she seems to already have an idea of what to do. Taking the garlands she throws them where she can, draping them in no particular fashion along the branches until finally she wedges the ornaments between the branches.
They both watch, smiling, Mai leaning Zuko's shoulder and giving him a quick kiss on the jaw. "It doesn't have to be perfect, you know?"
"I know." He says, curling an arm her waist, "But i'd like it to be."
"This—right here," Mai shifts, jerking her head towards their daughter, watching the child's smile widen at her work, "What she's doing is perfect. Everything I wanted."
Zuko's own grin widens in return before kissing her, pulling her in closer. "Me too."
.