Day Seven: Running Interference
Title: Running Interference
Rating: PG-13
Note: Though it wasn't one of the themes, the challenge I took to heart with this story was to show love, without actually using the words "I love you". I really hope I pulled it off successfully, though it was the one thing that was driving me crazy while trying to write the story. :)
For: meameroyasei
The problem wasn't that Zuko didn' t have what it took to pull the whole thing off, just that Fate had a funny way of working against him whenever he tried to set something into motion. Not the big things, no, because if he was anything it was capable in matters of the state and his position as Fire Lord. It was the little things, like expressing emotion, finding the right word at the right moment, and being romantic which all failed him completely. He would eventually learn that the only way he had a prayer of managing to successfully do anything of the sort was to do it without any excessive planning beyond… well, doing it; eventually, but not when he was faced with the impossibly daunting duty of formal courtship with the intent to marry. It sounded vaguely like a crime he was planning to commit, except criminals couldn't possibly feel the same sort of dread which hung heavily in the pit of Zuko's stomach, rolling and twisting at every thought which could possibly lead him to think about formally proposing to Mai.
It started innocently enough with a suggestion from his uncle, who casually noted on Zuko’s most recent diplomatic trip to Ba Sing Se that the Fire Lord looked awfully lonely being introduced by himself at parties Mai couldn't or wouldn't bring herself to come to. Zuko had begun to write it off as one of Uncle Iroh's most recent absurdities until Aang interjected himself into the conversation by pointing out that at sixteen even he was thinking seriously about his marital future. In comparison to this Zuko, at twenty years old, was starting to feel a bit like the male version of an old maid, which apparently was equivalent with a coward. He had tried to defend himself, to explain that his duties to the Fire Nation and its role in rebuilding the world were far more important than marriage proposals, but Aang had waved that away by reminding him that he too had spent the last four years mopping up the mess left after the war. And so, much like gossiping old women, the Avatar and the uncle of the Fire Lord tried to plan how Zuko would finally propose marriage to Mai.
The details determined, Zuko had only to dress himself for the evening while Aang and his uncle worked silently from the background to ensure that everything would go as they had planned. It had been more trouble to find a night when Zuko would be able to escape guests and obligations long enough to do the deed than he thought it was worth but it had been managed by pulling some strings and spreading a few unkind rumors. Staring hollowly at the mirror in front of him, Zuko wondered what the rush to marry him off was anyway. He and Mai had discussed marriage before and knew without a doubt that they would certainly be married when the time was right. She seemed perfectly contented to continue living as they were, comfortable in one another's company and the knowledge that one day when they both felt secure enough they would make that final leap into matrimony. Despite all the reasons he had given for not wanting to marry Mai just yet, none of them were quite sufficient to stamp out the small flutter he felt in his stomach if he managed to push aside the uncomfortable fears about how he might propose and get to thinking about the actual life they would have once they were married.
Finally standing stupidly in front of the doors which opened into his private parlor, Zuko steeled himself for what promised to be the most terrifying and rewarding day of his life. Twenty years could not have prepared him to do what he was about to do, but threats to his livelihood and remarkably cold, if not cajoling, remarks about his masculinity aside, he was about to ask Mai to marry him in all his awkward glory. He had tried to practice what to say as Aang had encouraged him to do, but found to his dismay that he ended up doing very little more than make himself feel like a fool. He had no choice: he would simply be forced to ad lib his marriage proposal. Not quite the romance Iroh had tried to impart upon him, but it would have to be better than the lame, twisting monologues which invariably left him pulling out clumps of hair and shouting obscenities at the small portrait of Mai he kept in his antechamber. Finally, he pushed open the door with the resolve that things could not get much worse than he perceived them to be. His knees shook unsteadily, his hands were damp with sweat but he felt chills crawling up and down his spine.
Mai was already waiting for him in the parlor, comfortably perched in a chair as he entered. She rose as he came near and slid warm arms around his middle, laying her head on his chest with a pleased exhale of pent up concern and air.
"I thought you would be here earlier," She told him, finally pulling away. She didn't sound angry, and the warm affection in her voice relaxed him, but only by a fraction.
"I..." His voice cracked from the abuse he had forced upon it while yelling at himself and his own foolishness for agreeing to go along with a plan he didn't entirely understand. The room did look romantic with candles scattered across the room, reflected merrily by the myriad of mirrors which adorned the walls. "I got distracted by something I had to take care of and... just lost track of time."
She looked faintly suspicious of his excuse but if she was she said nothing and squeezed his hand affectionately. “So, what’s the occasion?” She gave a general wave to indicate the atmosphere in general.
Zuko opened his mouth to make up a lie about the situation, but clapped it shut when he realized that the only thing that was likely to come out was a botched fib that would allude all too immediately his real plans for the evening. A suspicious shifting in the closet added to the sinking pit in his stomach. The gentle push of a stray draft shoved him marginally closer toward Mai. Zuko shot the corner table and its frilly covering cloth a dirty glare before gently placing a hand on Mai’s waist, guiding her toward the large table in the center of the room. She tried to slide his hand a little lower toward her backside with a sly grin, but he blushed and tried to look casual as he kept his hand above the invisible line that began at her hips.
“Is something wrong, Zuko?” She turned, pressing a hand to his forehead with a quizzical, appraising look. “You don’t look well.”
He muttered something incomprehensible about nosy, interfering prudes and shook his head. “No, just… a little… No, I’m fine.”
Mai gave a small, mischievious smile before pressing herself against him with a satisfied sound that reminded him vividly of a purring predator. “I haven’t been able to get much time alone with you lately.”
Swallowing thickly, Zuko wondered exactly how far Mai was planning on taking this before he would have to stop her from killing their eavesdropping spies from sheer embarassment. He got his answer very quickly as she simultaneously escalated the situation and made his clothing altogether far too hot and constricting for his personal liking. “Mai!” He hissed, trying to dislodge her affectionate, but wandering, hands.
She raised an eyebrow. “So there is something wrong.”
He managed to regain self-control through a series of hissing breaths. “No, but there will be if you don’t… don’t…”
“Don’t what?” Her hand edged closer to him, crawling up his chest like an creature with its own erotic will.
Zuko wanted to tell her not to stop and to never put him into this situation again, but she could have no idea about the pair who shared their intimate moment with them. “Why don’t we… just…” He gestured vaguely toward the table, and she raised her eyebrows, mind clearly gone in the very direction he was pointedly trying to steer her away from. “No, no…”
But Mai did not seem deterred in the slightest from her intentions. “I really haven’t gotten much time with you lately, and…” She frowned very slightly. It wasn’t meant to be a pout, nor to make him feel guilty, but her expression in conjunction with her next words tore at his heart. “I really missed you. I don’t really like it when you go off all the times, and I really… I know you’re busy, and I know you have things to take care of-”
He pressed a finger to her lips and leaned down to her ear. “I’ve missed you too. Why don’t we…” He spared a quick glance to the shifting lace cover of the corner table. “Why don’t we get some real privacy?”
She didn’t ask what he meant, but followed him soundlessly to the grounds. Her blood thrummed with excitement, beating rhythmically to the cool breeze which moved through the thick night air. He paced through the grass, and she raised an eyebrow, smoothing the skirts of her dress. “Now I know something’s wrong.”
He finally stopped abruptly and looked over her. “Mai?” He managed quietly, taking the few necessary steps until he was directly in front of her. “Have you ever… wanted to do something but… didn’t. I mean…” He frowned and squeezed his eyes shut. Evidently, even without the pressuring presence of his uncle and accomplice, he was still nervous and awkward with words. “I mean… wanted to do something, but… you didn’t want to because you were afraid of how things could change?” He mumbled something that might have been self-reproach, but she touched his hand delicately.
“I think everyone might have come to that point at some time or another in their lives,” She tried to lift his chin to look him in the eye, but he was picking at his sleeve in nerves. “Yes… Yes, I have.” She murmured, resigning herself to brush her fingers over his cheek and hope he would meet her eyes when he was finally ready.
“Then… you know how hard this is for me.” Somehow, explaining it to her didn’t seem necessary, as though she was already so much a part of him that she must already know what he was thinking.
She frowned in bewilderment for a long moment before nodding, wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her head onto his shoulder. “I know.”
“And I’m not particularly… articulate about this sort of thing. I’m not very romantic, and I always say the wrong thing. I probably won’t remember your favorite color, or flower, or write you romantic poems. You’ll probably get angry with me and I’ll probably deserve it,” He took a long breath, finally managing to meet her eye. “And as much as I don’t want things to change, I also don’t… want you to go.”
She stared at him, astonished. “Where in the world would I go to?” She hadn’t entirely realized that he was afraid she would leave him without the proper ties to bind them together. He hadn’t quite realized it either, until the words came tumbling forth from his mouth unbidden.
“I don’t know,” He wrung his hands nervously. “I don’t know, but I don’t want you to go anywhere. I might be afraid of moving forward, but I’m more afraid of losing you. I would rather that I had said something about it.”
“What are you getting at, Zuko?” She hit straight into the heart of things and he trembled at the thought that by simply ad libbing he had come much farther than he had quite allowed himself to imagine.
“I’d like it if you married me.” The words came out matter-of-fact, almost non-committal, but there they were, hanging between them awkwardly. It wasn’t romantic, as Zuko had feared it wouldn’t be, but he thought that at least it wasn’t the insane ramblings he’d carried on with in his antechamber. At least he’d said it, and now it was up to her to make up her mind about the whole thing.
She thought for a moment about pretending that she hadn’t heard him, but there was no reason to put him through the difficulty of choking out the words again. Before she could quite comprehend what she was doing she was nodding and he was pulling her tightly against him, clinging together in fervent hopes that it was real, not the cruel work of wishful dreaming. She tangled her hands in his hair and pressed her lips to his with an internal sigh of warm gratitude as he responded without the inelegance of his monologue. His hands found her waist and slid down past the danger line which defined their affection in public, resting comfortably on the gentle swell of her hips and pulling her closer still.
It didn’t really matter whether or not anyone saw, nor the spread of rumors that was likely to come in the following weeks as they prepared to formally announce their engagement. If it had not gone to plan, Zuko could not be blamed, since it had happened anyway in the only way it possibly could have: their way. The certain nature of their relationship defined everything around them, especially the nature of their romantic interactions. If the Fire Lord and his wife struggled through their marriage in the past, as seemed to be tradition for Zuko’s ancestery, they would see to it that theirs was not typical. If man and wife was too different from the comfortable existence they had, they would simply adapt the rigid definition of “man and wife” to suit the inflexible (or was it flexible?) nature of the two of them. Would things change for them? Doubtedly. Certainly. Probably. Neither could answer, fumbling in hopes that they wouldn’t and praying they would anyway. As far as they were concerned, however, it could only be for the better.
Rating: PG-13
Note: Though it wasn't one of the themes, the challenge I took to heart with this story was to show love, without actually using the words "I love you". I really hope I pulled it off successfully, though it was the one thing that was driving me crazy while trying to write the story. :)
For: meameroyasei
The problem wasn't that Zuko didn' t have what it took to pull the whole thing off, just that Fate had a funny way of working against him whenever he tried to set something into motion. Not the big things, no, because if he was anything it was capable in matters of the state and his position as Fire Lord. It was the little things, like expressing emotion, finding the right word at the right moment, and being romantic which all failed him completely. He would eventually learn that the only way he had a prayer of managing to successfully do anything of the sort was to do it without any excessive planning beyond… well, doing it; eventually, but not when he was faced with the impossibly daunting duty of formal courtship with the intent to marry. It sounded vaguely like a crime he was planning to commit, except criminals couldn't possibly feel the same sort of dread which hung heavily in the pit of Zuko's stomach, rolling and twisting at every thought which could possibly lead him to think about formally proposing to Mai.
It started innocently enough with a suggestion from his uncle, who casually noted on Zuko’s most recent diplomatic trip to Ba Sing Se that the Fire Lord looked awfully lonely being introduced by himself at parties Mai couldn't or wouldn't bring herself to come to. Zuko had begun to write it off as one of Uncle Iroh's most recent absurdities until Aang interjected himself into the conversation by pointing out that at sixteen even he was thinking seriously about his marital future. In comparison to this Zuko, at twenty years old, was starting to feel a bit like the male version of an old maid, which apparently was equivalent with a coward. He had tried to defend himself, to explain that his duties to the Fire Nation and its role in rebuilding the world were far more important than marriage proposals, but Aang had waved that away by reminding him that he too had spent the last four years mopping up the mess left after the war. And so, much like gossiping old women, the Avatar and the uncle of the Fire Lord tried to plan how Zuko would finally propose marriage to Mai.
The details determined, Zuko had only to dress himself for the evening while Aang and his uncle worked silently from the background to ensure that everything would go as they had planned. It had been more trouble to find a night when Zuko would be able to escape guests and obligations long enough to do the deed than he thought it was worth but it had been managed by pulling some strings and spreading a few unkind rumors. Staring hollowly at the mirror in front of him, Zuko wondered what the rush to marry him off was anyway. He and Mai had discussed marriage before and knew without a doubt that they would certainly be married when the time was right. She seemed perfectly contented to continue living as they were, comfortable in one another's company and the knowledge that one day when they both felt secure enough they would make that final leap into matrimony. Despite all the reasons he had given for not wanting to marry Mai just yet, none of them were quite sufficient to stamp out the small flutter he felt in his stomach if he managed to push aside the uncomfortable fears about how he might propose and get to thinking about the actual life they would have once they were married.
Finally standing stupidly in front of the doors which opened into his private parlor, Zuko steeled himself for what promised to be the most terrifying and rewarding day of his life. Twenty years could not have prepared him to do what he was about to do, but threats to his livelihood and remarkably cold, if not cajoling, remarks about his masculinity aside, he was about to ask Mai to marry him in all his awkward glory. He had tried to practice what to say as Aang had encouraged him to do, but found to his dismay that he ended up doing very little more than make himself feel like a fool. He had no choice: he would simply be forced to ad lib his marriage proposal. Not quite the romance Iroh had tried to impart upon him, but it would have to be better than the lame, twisting monologues which invariably left him pulling out clumps of hair and shouting obscenities at the small portrait of Mai he kept in his antechamber. Finally, he pushed open the door with the resolve that things could not get much worse than he perceived them to be. His knees shook unsteadily, his hands were damp with sweat but he felt chills crawling up and down his spine.
Mai was already waiting for him in the parlor, comfortably perched in a chair as he entered. She rose as he came near and slid warm arms around his middle, laying her head on his chest with a pleased exhale of pent up concern and air.
"I thought you would be here earlier," She told him, finally pulling away. She didn't sound angry, and the warm affection in her voice relaxed him, but only by a fraction.
"I..." His voice cracked from the abuse he had forced upon it while yelling at himself and his own foolishness for agreeing to go along with a plan he didn't entirely understand. The room did look romantic with candles scattered across the room, reflected merrily by the myriad of mirrors which adorned the walls. "I got distracted by something I had to take care of and... just lost track of time."
She looked faintly suspicious of his excuse but if she was she said nothing and squeezed his hand affectionately. “So, what’s the occasion?” She gave a general wave to indicate the atmosphere in general.
Zuko opened his mouth to make up a lie about the situation, but clapped it shut when he realized that the only thing that was likely to come out was a botched fib that would allude all too immediately his real plans for the evening. A suspicious shifting in the closet added to the sinking pit in his stomach. The gentle push of a stray draft shoved him marginally closer toward Mai. Zuko shot the corner table and its frilly covering cloth a dirty glare before gently placing a hand on Mai’s waist, guiding her toward the large table in the center of the room. She tried to slide his hand a little lower toward her backside with a sly grin, but he blushed and tried to look casual as he kept his hand above the invisible line that began at her hips.
“Is something wrong, Zuko?” She turned, pressing a hand to his forehead with a quizzical, appraising look. “You don’t look well.”
He muttered something incomprehensible about nosy, interfering prudes and shook his head. “No, just… a little… No, I’m fine.”
Mai gave a small, mischievious smile before pressing herself against him with a satisfied sound that reminded him vividly of a purring predator. “I haven’t been able to get much time alone with you lately.”
Swallowing thickly, Zuko wondered exactly how far Mai was planning on taking this before he would have to stop her from killing their eavesdropping spies from sheer embarassment. He got his answer very quickly as she simultaneously escalated the situation and made his clothing altogether far too hot and constricting for his personal liking. “Mai!” He hissed, trying to dislodge her affectionate, but wandering, hands.
She raised an eyebrow. “So there is something wrong.”
He managed to regain self-control through a series of hissing breaths. “No, but there will be if you don’t… don’t…”
“Don’t what?” Her hand edged closer to him, crawling up his chest like an creature with its own erotic will.
Zuko wanted to tell her not to stop and to never put him into this situation again, but she could have no idea about the pair who shared their intimate moment with them. “Why don’t we… just…” He gestured vaguely toward the table, and she raised her eyebrows, mind clearly gone in the very direction he was pointedly trying to steer her away from. “No, no…”
But Mai did not seem deterred in the slightest from her intentions. “I really haven’t gotten much time with you lately, and…” She frowned very slightly. It wasn’t meant to be a pout, nor to make him feel guilty, but her expression in conjunction with her next words tore at his heart. “I really missed you. I don’t really like it when you go off all the times, and I really… I know you’re busy, and I know you have things to take care of-”
He pressed a finger to her lips and leaned down to her ear. “I’ve missed you too. Why don’t we…” He spared a quick glance to the shifting lace cover of the corner table. “Why don’t we get some real privacy?”
She didn’t ask what he meant, but followed him soundlessly to the grounds. Her blood thrummed with excitement, beating rhythmically to the cool breeze which moved through the thick night air. He paced through the grass, and she raised an eyebrow, smoothing the skirts of her dress. “Now I know something’s wrong.”
He finally stopped abruptly and looked over her. “Mai?” He managed quietly, taking the few necessary steps until he was directly in front of her. “Have you ever… wanted to do something but… didn’t. I mean…” He frowned and squeezed his eyes shut. Evidently, even without the pressuring presence of his uncle and accomplice, he was still nervous and awkward with words. “I mean… wanted to do something, but… you didn’t want to because you were afraid of how things could change?” He mumbled something that might have been self-reproach, but she touched his hand delicately.
“I think everyone might have come to that point at some time or another in their lives,” She tried to lift his chin to look him in the eye, but he was picking at his sleeve in nerves. “Yes… Yes, I have.” She murmured, resigning herself to brush her fingers over his cheek and hope he would meet her eyes when he was finally ready.
“Then… you know how hard this is for me.” Somehow, explaining it to her didn’t seem necessary, as though she was already so much a part of him that she must already know what he was thinking.
She frowned in bewilderment for a long moment before nodding, wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her head onto his shoulder. “I know.”
“And I’m not particularly… articulate about this sort of thing. I’m not very romantic, and I always say the wrong thing. I probably won’t remember your favorite color, or flower, or write you romantic poems. You’ll probably get angry with me and I’ll probably deserve it,” He took a long breath, finally managing to meet her eye. “And as much as I don’t want things to change, I also don’t… want you to go.”
She stared at him, astonished. “Where in the world would I go to?” She hadn’t entirely realized that he was afraid she would leave him without the proper ties to bind them together. He hadn’t quite realized it either, until the words came tumbling forth from his mouth unbidden.
“I don’t know,” He wrung his hands nervously. “I don’t know, but I don’t want you to go anywhere. I might be afraid of moving forward, but I’m more afraid of losing you. I would rather that I had said something about it.”
“What are you getting at, Zuko?” She hit straight into the heart of things and he trembled at the thought that by simply ad libbing he had come much farther than he had quite allowed himself to imagine.
“I’d like it if you married me.” The words came out matter-of-fact, almost non-committal, but there they were, hanging between them awkwardly. It wasn’t romantic, as Zuko had feared it wouldn’t be, but he thought that at least it wasn’t the insane ramblings he’d carried on with in his antechamber. At least he’d said it, and now it was up to her to make up her mind about the whole thing.
She thought for a moment about pretending that she hadn’t heard him, but there was no reason to put him through the difficulty of choking out the words again. Before she could quite comprehend what she was doing she was nodding and he was pulling her tightly against him, clinging together in fervent hopes that it was real, not the cruel work of wishful dreaming. She tangled her hands in his hair and pressed her lips to his with an internal sigh of warm gratitude as he responded without the inelegance of his monologue. His hands found her waist and slid down past the danger line which defined their affection in public, resting comfortably on the gentle swell of her hips and pulling her closer still.
It didn’t really matter whether or not anyone saw, nor the spread of rumors that was likely to come in the following weeks as they prepared to formally announce their engagement. If it had not gone to plan, Zuko could not be blamed, since it had happened anyway in the only way it possibly could have: their way. The certain nature of their relationship defined everything around them, especially the nature of their romantic interactions. If the Fire Lord and his wife struggled through their marriage in the past, as seemed to be tradition for Zuko’s ancestery, they would see to it that theirs was not typical. If man and wife was too different from the comfortable existence they had, they would simply adapt the rigid definition of “man and wife” to suit the inflexible (or was it flexible?) nature of the two of them. Would things change for them? Doubtedly. Certainly. Probably. Neither could answer, fumbling in hopes that they wouldn’t and praying they would anyway. As far as they were concerned, however, it could only be for the better.