Work Text:
P’Li flat-out refused to let Zaheer teach her how to read.
It was one of the things that caught him off-guard about her. He had assumed she would ask him— she seemed to like spending time with him, and he was inarguably better at it than Ghazan. But worst was the realization that maybe she didn’t trust him with that vulnerability.
So he asked, point blank, if she was embarrassed. She had been trapped for sixteen years with no exposure to the outside world, he’d reminded her gently, and no enrichment except for bending training and books of illustrations; of course no one blamed her that she couldn’t—
But she had gotten angry with him, for the very first time, told him to mind his own business before storming off.
“What part of that was wrong?” he’d asked Ghazan, who had been left sitting on the floor of their tiny rented apartment, in the middle of scattered books and paper.
“Literally all of it,” his friend had sighed, rubbing his face in exhaustion, and then refused to elaborate.
She warmed back up to him after a few days, once he apologized for prying, but she didn’t specify what had set her off in the first place. He was left just as clueless as before.
“Ghazan,” he begged when she was out of earshot. “What do I do?”
“What do you mean? She doesn’t want you to teach her. Let it go,” he said. “It’s not that big a deal.”
Zaheer frowned. “I mean… in general. About her.”
Ghazan narrowed his eyes at his flustered friend. “And your crush?”
“Ugh.” It was painfully awkward to hear it out loud. “Yes, that’s what I mean.”
“You could try, like…” Ghazan stretched out leisurely, able to touch his toes to one wall and his fingers to the other. “Not being a pretentious douche.”
“You are no help.”
“I tell it like it is, bro.”
Zaheer pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Okay. Beyond that.”
Ghazan exhaled, thinking. “You’re looking to confess?”
“Maybe,” he admitted.
His friend shrugged. “Normal person affection isn’t significant enough for you, am I right?” Zaheer nodded. “Well, you used to do the drawings thing when you were too scared to talk to her.”
“Too scared?” Zaheer repeated, disbelieving. “She was covered in guards! It was bold to even send her anything. I’m still surprised it worked for so long.”
“Mm. Yeah, it worked just long enough to get your hopeless flirting out of the way.”
“What? We didn’t get our hopeless…” he caught himself, scowling. “Asshole. Sarcasm doesn’t become you.”
Ghazan laughed as Zaheer shoved him. “You really could give normal person affection a try.”
Zaheer scoffed. “Too trivial.”
“Like passing notes isn’t trivial in itself. Normal boyfriends give their girlfriends flowers and candy and stupid shit like that.”
“How’d that work for you?” he asked, seeking to get back at his friend.
It was Ghazan’s turn to shove him. “Shut up. You know I’m not speaking from experience. It would depend on the girl, I guess. What are her favorite things?”
“I have no…” he stopped. “Actually. She might like flowers.”
“I thought they were too trivial.”
“Fire lilies aren’t. They’re her favorite.” The sketch she’d finally gotten to him, after months of one-way communication, still went with him everywhere.
Ghazan shrugged. “Are they like panda lilies?”
“What are panda lilies?”
“They grew around my village. Girls went crazy for them because they’re some kind of traditional expression of love.” The disdain was palpable. “They were just hard as hell to find.”
“Are fire lilies also hard to find?”
“No idea. But we’re in the Fire Nation, and it’s summer. You could probably forage for one.”
Zaheer sighed. “Okay. I’ll… go try to find one.” He stood to leave.
“Cool.” Ghazan took a discarded paper and waved his face with it. “While you’re out, you could pick up some kind of beverage.”
Zaheer squinted. “P’Li doesn’t drink. She’d need the whole bottle to feel anything.”
“For me, genius.” Ghazan rolled his eyes. “Depending on how well your confession goes, I might not want to be awake and sober for the aftermath.”
--
Zaheer returned a few hours later, when the sun was just a hazy stripe on the horizon.
Ghazan and P’Li were going over something in a book of simple phrases— thankfully, books did exist for teaching adults literacy. Ghazan noticed him first, his eyes going from the hand Zaheer held behind his back to the bottle in his other hand.
“Yeah, okay. That’s probably enough for tonight,” he said to P’Li.
She looked up, seeing nothing suspicious about Zaheer’s sudden presence and Ghazan’s sudden urge to leave. “Why?”
“I’m tired. And thirsty.” He was already standing, taking the bottle by its neck.
She couldn’t see his meaningful grin from where she was sitting. “Oh. Okay, I guess.” She closed the book and pushed it aside.
Ghazan clapped Zaheer on the back. Just keep it down, he mouthed.
Go, Zaheer mouthed back. In the time between Ghazan’s departure and the sound of his door closing, he thought of what to say. His whole trip back to the apartment had been dedicated to gearing himself up. Okay. You’re gonna just… give it to her. And tell her. And whatever happens, happens. And Ghazan is a fucking asshole. He knows you won’t be having sex with her tonight. He just wants an excuse to get drunk.
“What’s up?” P’Li asked tentatively. He was still just standing there.
What do I say? He debated. He’d never had a problem saying the right thing before.
Well, I’ve never tried silence.
He walked over, sat down, and held the flower out. She didn’t move. Of course. You’ve never tried silence because it doesn’t fucking work. “Yours,” he said lamely.
Smooth. Smooth as hell.
She gently took the flower by its stem. “I recognize this.”
Relief. “I thought you would.”
“It was my favorite, in all of my books. I drew it for you.”
“It’s called a fire lily,” he said.
“It’s more colorful than I thought it would be. I love it.” She smiled sheepishly. “Your art was so good… and I’d never drawn except to calm myself down. I never drew to make art. I didn’t even know if I was holding the pencil right.” She was absently touching the petals. “But I really wanted to give you something.”
He didn’t know what to say, so he nodded. Her speaking made him less nervous.
“You know,” she continued, not looking at him, “I was so nervous. I barely slept that night because I couldn’t decide if I should give it to you.”
This was news to him. “What made you not want to?” he asked.
She grimaced. “Well. I just… It didn’t look like in the book, and it just came out really awkward, and I was embarrassed that I ever tried. But you always seemed to encourage me, so I thought you’d… appreciate the effort anyway.” She ran her fingers through her hair, her other hand still clutching the flower. “Sorry. I don’t know. I’d never felt that vulnerable, and it freaked me out.” Her hand fell limply to her side.
Without thinking, he grabbed her free hand, lacing their fingers together. Her palm was clammy. The feeling of her skin made his heart race again.
She laughed, her voice shot with anxiety. Her fingers gently squeezed his. “Thanks. Is that why, though? Because this is the one I liked?” She finally made eye contact with him, holding up the flower.
“Um.” It was his turn to sweat. “Well. That was an interesting coincidence.”
P’Li tilted her head. “There’s another reason?”
Zaheer spoke past the awkwardness climbing in his chest. “U-um. Yes. Mm.” He coughed into his elbow. “Sometimes people give each other flowers.”
“Oh,” she answered. It was just to be polite, he knew. She was still curious. And if he didn’t elaborate, she would see it as yet another thing she was foolish for not understanding.
He spoke rapidly. “When they like each other a lot.”
“Oh.” Then, meaningfully: “Oh.”
“Y-yes.”
“I, um.” She cleared her throat. He glanced at her face— she was red from her cheeks to her ears. “Gotcha.”
“Yeah.” She wasn’t responding beyond that, and her hand was limp. Not a good sign. Zaheer steeled himself before gently extracting his hand from her grip. “I’m sorry if I assumed too much, P’Li.”
She grabbed his deserting wrist. “No, no.” The flower was placed gently on the table so she could scoot herself closer. The space between them was now closed, her left thigh pressed to his right, their hands laced down the seam where he ended and she began. “You didn’t assume too much,” she said, as if her gesture needed clarifying. The way she ran her fingers through her hair, letting a loose curtain of it hide her face, told him she was also just nervous.
“Oh.” He nodded. His chest felt like it was expanding. “That’s good.”
“Good.” She was smiling now, behind the shade of dark hair— he could hear it in her voice. The obstruction fell away when she leaned against the wall. The books she’d been deciphering sat nearby, forgotten.
Tentatively, he spoke. “Can I just ask why you didn’t want me to help…” She stiffened. “Sorry. Forget it.”
She grumbled, shifting again until her face was in his shoulder. Her breath on his skin made him shiver, growing warm. She mumbled something inaudible.
“Sorry?”
“Because,” she sighed, moving her mouth away, “Isn’t that a family thing?”
He paused. “I’m not following,” he admitted.
“Parents teach their kids to read,” she said. “Or older siblings. Or teachers or platonic friends, in Ghazan’s case.” She nuzzled her face into his neck, suddenly much less shy. Her arms encircled his shoulders. “I don’t want you to see me as a child. At all.”
His eyes went wide when she hugged him, anticipating one of her signature crushing embraces. They remained wide when she finished speaking. “Oh.” He felt overheated. “I’m glad. That… works perfectly.”
She chuckled into his skin. “I really like you,” she murmured.
“I like you too,” he replied. His arms found their way around her waist.
Her mouth gently pressed against his neck. Her lips drew together, grazed his skin, and released so quickly he barely felt it.
She was no longer in chains. But, she seemed to be telling him, voluntary tethers were more than acceptable.