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After the Na'vi clans defeated the RDA forces yet again, everyone who'd fought for Pandora was invited to what could've been the biggest victory party in history. Not only were there different tribes of Na'vi people, but littered amongst the crowd were those who left the RDA to join the fight on the good side, both humans and recoms. The cave in which the party was held was barely enough to house all its guests for the night.
A massive bonfire in the middle of it all beautifully illuminated the native dancers who celebrated their glorious victory through their art. Among them was researcher-turned-Na'vi Khro'a, whose energy was slightly boosted by the minimal amount of alcohol he had in his system. Despite his drunkenness, he danced in perfect sync with the other Na'vi.
He was being cheered on by some front-row audience, most notably by Noah who was drunker by miles than Khro'a was. They were leaning heavily on their partner, the recom defector Zdinarsk, as they drank bowl after bowl of the local liquor while singing along to the performance.
Meanwhile, Zdinarsk, who could hold her alcohol better than her other half, was casually chatting with fellow recom defector Mansk. In the face of all the festivities, the soldier was still as quiet as ever — not because he wasn't interested in the party. In fact, one might say he was too interested in the life of the party down here by the bonfire.
"So, are you just gonna sit there and watch," Zdinarsk said, "Or, are you finally going to make your move on Khro'a?"
Mansk simply took a large swig from his beer mug in response, to much of Zdinarsk's exasperation.
"Oh my god, whether you're sober or drunk, you're just as hopeless as ever," she groused, "Man, when are you gonna tell him?!"
"He's scared he'll get rejected," Noah slurred, unusually butting into the conversation. Zdinarsk caught them as they drunkenly leaned over to face Mansk, their expression a weird mix of frustration and teasing. "Stop being a wuss. Confess to Khro'a o ako'ng gagawa . [or I'll do it]"
Mansk groaned. His face sunk into his hands in defeat. "I just," he sighed as he tried to find the right words, "I just don't know what I'd do if he rejected me."
"Down bad behavior," Noah hiccuped.
"Mhm," Zdinarsk agreed, "But, think of it this way, Mansk, what if he didn't reject you?"
"You mean… what if he likes me back?" Mansk looked up from his hands. His eyes landed upon Khro'a. For a moment, they glinted with hope and optimism as they trailed the dancing figure, but Mansk himself quickly extinguished that flame. "Now, why would he do that," he groaned as he sank back into himself.
"Is he usually like this," Noah asked.
"It's because he's drunk and it's Khro'a." Zdinarsk sighed. She flung her arm around Mansk's shoulders and leaned towards him. "Listen, dude, you gotta stop overthinking this." She sounded serious and genuine. "You're fucking Mansk, bro! We've known each other since we first got deployed, and I can't think of any reason why Khro'a wouldn't like you back."
"Y'know, you're really nice when you're drunk. It's weird."
"But it worked, didn't it?"
The two soldiers shared a laugh and took a few more swigs of beer, then started chatting about other things. It was clear that the alcohol was having more of an effect on Mansk than on Zdinarsk. She kept on teasing him that it was 'now or never' for him.
"Fuck it," Mansk slurred, "I'm gonna do it tonight."
"You got a plan?"
"... No. Not yet."
Just then, Zdinarsk noticed that Noah had gone quiet, she looked back at them. The scientist was watching the dancers intently while cradling an empty bowl in their lap.
"What's on your mind," Zdinarsk asked.
Noah unexpectedly broke out into a cheeky grin. "A plan," they answered. Then, they started waving their hands wildly and called out, "Khro'a!!"
Mansk choked on his drink. When he looked over at Noah, eyes dilated and ears perked up frantically, the scientist was looking back at him, giggling as they mouthed a sly 'you're welcome'.
Meanwhile, Khro'a, who was still dancing with the other Na'vi, whipped his head around towards Noah. His smile lit up brighter than ever and he headed over to them, practically jumping his way over.
"Hey!!!! What's—ooooh, Noah, what happened," he wheezed at his friend's drunken stupor, "How many have you had?"
"Too many," Zdinarsk said.
Noah glared up at her. "I've only had 4 bowls of the stuff and it's really good. So, shut up."
Zdinarsk wordlessly shook her head at Khro'a, letting him know that Noah had not, in fact, only had four bowls of the heavy Na'vi liquor.
Then, the musicians began playing a different tune and all the dancers began inviting the crowd to dance with them. Khro'a saw this and pulled Noah off their seat, who then yanked Zdinarsk along with them with surprising strength. Still quick-witted despite the alcohol, the soldier grabbed Mansk and pulled him along.
"Fuck, Z-Dog, let go—I don't dance?!"
Zdinarsk laughed. "Sounds like a 'you' problem, dude," she exclaimed as she threw him towards Khro'a just before she disappeared into the crowd with Noah.
Mansk bumped into Khro'a, but caught the latter by the waist. Khro'a's hands landed on the soldier's chest in surprise, but he laughed it off.
"Hiya, Mansk," Khro'a beamed, "Enjoying the party?"
In the back of his mind, Mansk wondered if a Na'vi could blush. His face felt warm and they were too far from the bonfire for that to cause it. Mansk swallowed his nerves and answered, "Yeah, it's nice. You—uh—seem to be having fun yourself. You dance pretty well."
Khro'a's ears flitted excitedly. His hands then slipped down to Mansk's hands, pulled them off his waist, but didn't let them go. "Do you want to dance with me?"
Maybe it was liquid courage, but Mansk's answer came almost instantly. "Actually…" He leaned in closer to Khro'a, breath tickling the shorter Na'vi's ear, then whispered, "I'd rather take you somewhere else, Khro'a."
There was a certain stress on his name that sent a shiver down Khro'a's spine. As the soldier pulled away to meet his gaze once more, Khro'a could see a fire behind those bright yellow eyes. They burned fiercely in the golden firelight, so did the strong hands that remained snug on his waist.
But Mansk did not expect Khro'a to grin as slyly as he did. The latter yanked the soldier closer by his unzipped jacket and replied, "So glad you asked, Mansk," the next was said with more sultry undertones, "I was starting to think I had to do it myself."
"The fuck do you me—"
Before the soldier could even process his response, Khro'a grabbed his hand, and the two ran out of the party, out of the cave, and into the forest nearby until there was no one in sight. By then, Mansk had already gotten his act together, and was ready to go on the offensive.
Mansk cornered Khro'a between a large tree and himself. He could sense Khro'a's eagerness as he looked up at the soldier, eyes wide with mischief and excitement. He was not being shy at all, and Mansk liked that. The latter snuck one hand around Khro'a's waist, resting it on the small of his back.
"Why'd you wait for me to ask you," he asked first.
Khro'a playfully cocked his head to the side as he put his arms on Mansk's shoulders. "I've been putting in all the work trying to get close to you all this time," he shrugged, feigning innocence, "I was curious what it would look like if you took the initiative~"
Mansk suddenly let go of Khro'a, much to his surprise. The soldier sighed heavily and brought his hand to his face, covering it entirely from the other Na'vi's view. But just as the thrill in Khro'a's chest was about to die down, Mansk single-handedly pinned Khro'a against the tree by his wrists. He watched with bated breath as Mansk licked his lips while staring right at him.
"Naughty, naughty boy," Mansk smirked. His hot breath was a ghost upon Khro'a's lips, fleeting yet intoxicating.
In his wildest dreams, Khro'a did not expect tonight to go the way it was going right now. His heart pounded like it wanted to escape his body. He wanted to speak, to tease Mansk back just like he usually did. But this completely new side of Mansk so easily compelled him to keep his mouth shut.
"Who said you could play me around like that," the soldier added, lips inching dangerously closer towards Khro'a's. He stopped intentionally where their lips barely grazed against each other's.
"Answer me."
Khro'a stuttered, but his mouth would not form a coherent word.
From the look in his eyes, Mansk could tell he'd turned Khro'a putty in his hands. He couldn't believe he was actually scared of confessing to Khro'a just minutes ago. Who knew it was this easy to turn the tables on him?
"Well, you've had your fun, Khro'a," he said, "Now it's my turn."
Mansk kissed Khro'a, finally.
The feelings of both longing and satisfaction overwhelmed Khro'a's senses, and it took him a few moments to move and kiss Mansk back. The not-so-subtle taste of alcohol only worked to intoxicate him further. When Mansk let go of his wrists to put both hands on his waist, Khro'a seized the opportunity to pull the soldier in closer, if that was even possible.
Khro'a had worked so long to get to this point, and Mansk had no idea how much he actually wanted this until it happened.
Both men were gasping for air in between kisses, but neither seemed to want to let the slightest bit of distance get in between their bodies. However, it was inevitable; the pain in their chests was begging for them to let go of each other. For a moment, they did.
"Fuck," Mansk panted. He gripped Khro'a's waist tighter. "Do you want to—"
"Hell yeah."
The two left for camp faster than they'd left the party. They knew all too well — it was going to be a very long night for both of them.