The shallower a person's life is, the deeper it turns out to be.
o-o-o
Mai's hands are small and pale in her lap. She watches them resolutely, not paying any attention to the meeting going on around her. Adults are boring, always talking about the finances of war.
She's only nine - sure, she's smart for her age, but she doesn't see why the Fire Nation needs her to sit in on their war councils. They must be really desperate, to ask a child for advice. She wants to go and sit in the garden and watch Azula practice her bending, and listen to Ty Lee's playful banter about what the shapes the flames and smoke create could mean.
The man beside her nudges her side, and mutters "He's talking to you." She glances up to see that all of the nobles charged with plotting expenditures watching her, waiting for her opinion.
She observes them blandly, for a second, before sliding to her feet. She folds her arms over her chest and states quietly, "This is boring." With that, Mai turns on her heel and stalks from the room.
She finds Ty Lee and Azula where she figured she would, in the garden. Ty Lee grins and flings an arm over her shoulders, and the two of them watch as Azula spits fire and singes the ground. Slicing blades of grass between her fingernails, Mai thinks this isn't quite as boring as the rest of the world.
o-o-o
Her hands balance the knives, carefully, resting the ends between her fingers. The callouses on her palms formed around these knives, and as she lets them fly she feels something almost like loss. The ends plunge into the training dummy, stabbing into the burned, worn patches left by Azula and Ty Lee. A few stray bits of straw fall from the dummy, and she curls her lip when she sees that her knives are crooked.
o-o-o
Azula's tongue feels a little weird in her mouth, but good-weird. Mai leans into the kiss, closing her eyes because that's what always happens in the books. Azula's got a hand in her hair, too tight for comfort, and another that's going to leave finger-shaped bruises on her hip. It's a lot different than kissing Ty Lee or Zuko.
Azula pulls away and scowls at her. "You're not kissing back," she accuses, and Mai leans in dutifully, this time trying to participate more. Except when they do it like this, their tongues and teeth are struggling for dominance, and neither of them wants the other to seize control. Azula releases her and sighs.
"Never mind. This isn't working." She straightens her own clothes, and Mai's, and ties her hair back into it's topknot. Mai notices absently the way strands of it weave shadows against her fingers.
Azula walks away, and Mai wipes the back of her hand against her mouth.
o-o-o
Mai is fifteen when she decides that she likes Zuko best out of all the people she's kissed. There's just something about the way his lips drag along hers, less forceful than Azula, and a lot like Ty Lee, except not quite the same. Zuko is a little hesitant, too, a little nervous, and he's never really sure where to put his hands, so it's up to her to guide them to her hips or waist or shoulders.
He's doing it now, and his fingers are creeping up her neck to weave in her hair, and her body is pressed against his. Mai slides her hands up to his face, marveling at the smooth, unblemished skin, and steps away.
Zuko looks a little confused, and a little red, and Mai smirks. He raises an eyebrow, now looking less startled and more wry, and Mai has a hard time deciding which expression looks better on him. "What's wrong?" he asks.
"Nothing," she murmurs, and drops her hands from his neck to his waist. "You're not a very good kisser." He rolls his eyes.
"Well, it's not like I get a lot of practice. Do you?" It's obvious he means the last bit sarcastically, but she answers anyways.
"Yes."
"Really?" He looks surprised. "With who?"
Rather than tell him Ty Lee or your sister, Mai kisses him.
o-o-o
Zuko is gone, and it feels all kinds of bad, and she's more bored than ever. She's starting to get bored with Ty Lee and Azula, because what they do used to be strange and random, but now she's starting to pick out patterns, and she hates patterns. Patterns make everything feel stupid and the same and predictable, and Mai half wishes she had something to do that isn't Ty Lee or Azula, but no one else wants to be near the creepy girl who plays with knives.
o-o-o
Zuko's hand is warm in Mai's, and she's barely keeping herself from smiling, because he's back, he's back and he's all hers and he looks so much different. And Zuko actually is smiling, and laughing, and the Avatar and his friends are there too. Mai presses her lips against his temple, his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, and her palms are sweaty and shaking, and she buries her face in the crook of his neck, vibrating with his laughter. And for once, Mai beams.
o-o-o
I don't own AtLA.
o-o-o
A/N Part two of my three-part fic. Mai is tricky to write for, because I always want to justify her actions with emotions, which isn't a very Mai thing to do. But as far as het pairings go, Maiko is one of my favorites. R&R, please.