notes: rated r for ridiculous. also, this story makes a lot more sense if you assume that azula's doctors have just been slipping crack into her daily calming tea for the lulz.
Avatar Aang is sulking. Maybe. No, start that over. He is being a mature adult about the fact that his female life partner might have had a few affairs before they got together, and that one of her old lovers might have expressed some (joking?) interest in picking things back up—
oh, who is he kidding.
"Girls like you," he pouts, flopping onto their bed as dramatically as possible, "way too much."
Ty Lee laughs and scoots closer to him, so that they're flopped side by side. "Only Zula," she says. "And Zula doesn't mean it how you think she does. She just can't show her feelings very well, so she expresses herself through sex. Typical red aura."
"She shoved her hand down your pants and asked if you wanted to form a new empire with her, okay? Is that normal for red auras?"
"Well, she's always been a little unique— you're jealous," she suddenly singsongs. "Tons of girls like you 'cause you're the avatar. I cope."
"Yeah," he says, chastened, "I guess you're right. Still. The acolytes get the concept of healthy personal space."
"What if I told you," she says, arching off the bed in an effortless backbend— he can see a tanned inch of stomach from where her shirt rides up, is too conscious of her breasts straining against the cloth— "the only hand I want down my pants is yours?"
"Don't think you're charming," he chides, but his mood is considerably brightened by the time those pants hit the floor.
