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In Lo'ak's humble opinion, there was nothing more relaxing than mixing paints.
His special tattoo pigments, in particular. The recipe was a close guarded secret of his, unique only to his methods. Two parts soot, for the sterile, high-pigmented and permanently dark colour, one part squid ink for the additional kick, and a last part of clear, clean thick liquid from a dapophet leaf, the inner extract creating a more smooth yet gel like consistency. This results in a texture that is smooth and creamy, while liquid enough to sink below the pores of the skin, indent itself into the sleek na'vi skin for at least several decades—but with Lo'ak's special mixture, the dark colour will last permanently.
(Sprinkle some more soot, crush any clumps, squeeze more dapophet juice in, mix, mix, mix.)
Of course, Kiri helped a little, providing good use of the dapophet leaves for quick healing and binding, but the rest of the mixture, including learning the amounts needed per each part by trial and error, were all from Lo'ak. He had spent many nights researching and mixing different consistencies and compounds to get where he was now; a highly respected and sought after Metkayina tattooist.
After all, it was not that often that someone as of high importance as he was would be the one curating the tattoos for other na'vi. (Well, according to Tuk, at least.)
When mixing his pigments, Lo'ak had a methodical and exact way of curating them. One piece of that puzzle lied in his utensils, or rather, his mixing bowl. There was a special bowl that he liked to use in specific, carved with care, depicting beautiful flowers. Aloe, scattered around the lip of the bowl, calla lily and camellia speckled throughout, carnations on the bottom, chrysanthemum, clover and hibiscus in long lines just above the carnations. Myrtle in large patterns, salvia on the edge of the lip. On the bottom of the bowl, on the inside, mostly clear and devoid of patterns, a single flower was carved and filled with resin to smooth out indents; yarrow, the symbol of everlasting love.
The beautiful work of art, elaborate and smooth to the touch was Lo'ak's prized possession. It was a gift from his husband and first love, the Metkayina's Olo'eyktan, Aonung. Not just any gift in particular, though, as it was his first mating gift he had officially received from his love after the courtship, acceptance and mating.
It held deep meaning to Lo'ak, and it was a great joy and honour to be able to use the bowl almost daily. Showing it off to his constant influx of clients, being able to point out each flower and their meanings, love, joy, youthfulness, promise. Really, it was just too easy to brag about his husband being the best in his eyes, smart, charming, witty, kind, patient. That Aonung was his.
"You look real happy," a teasing voice said behind him.
Lo'ak set his bowl down, wooden spoon clacking against the rim. There was a similar flowery indentation on the spoon, matching the bowl. It was one of the first gifts Aonung had ever given him, dating way back to their childhood. He had been sick, and while his parents had left him alone, Aonung had stayed back and served him a hearty bowl of soup—with that exact beautiful spoon, salvia and gardenia flowers stretched across the handle, depicted in long strokes. They were not as perfect or well-carved like his bowl was, but that made Lo'ak love it even more.
The spoon showed Aonung's beginning interest and love, and the progress from the clunky strokes to the clean craftsmanship of the bowl showed how far they came together; how much they endured together. The time spent together, how much they've grown. How much they've changed.
He turned around, leaning his hip against the table, a smile on his face. "Only since you're here."
Aonung smiled, eyes rolled upwards in a mock play of exasperation. "Real cheesy." The reef na'vi walked over, until they were toe to toe, facing each other. Lo'ak leaned his head upwards, still unsurprised at their height difference—Aonung had grown quite a bit as they aged, while it felt like he was still stuck. The man pulled him closer until they were chest to chest, one hand in the curve of his back, the other on his waist. He leaned down, pressing their foreheads together. "For what it's worth, I'm always happy to see you, too."
"Now who's cheesy?" Lo'ak snorted, grin widening. He gently pushed back at the other man's chest, taking a step back. "Yawne, you came in early. I thought you still had to round up the rest of the new hunters for their induction? It's barely afternoon."
The other man shook his head, cheeks tinging a darker blue, hands awkwardly held together. "I told Tsireya to take care of that, I didn't want to leave you waiting. Besides, she's better at dealing with the young and dumb than I am."
"You're the young and dumb," Lo'ak retorted. "We're barely twenty years old. You just turned twenty-three, actually. That's plenty young and dumb, if you ask me. I watched you challenge Neteyam and Rotxo to a drinking contest last week, and you puked all over our bedding."
"And you took care of me like the wonderful husband you are," Aonung reasoned. "Not so dumb when I had a perfect back up plan, right?"
Lo'ak rolled his eyes fondly, grabbing the rest of the dapophet gel, scooping it up with his free hands and quickly smearing it over Aonung's chest. He ignored his mate's shout of indigence. "I didn't mate with you to be your personal babysitter, dumbass."
"That's cold," he groaned. It was a thick glob of pure gel on his chest, smeared from shoulder to the middle of his stomach. Gingerly wiping off the cold gel with a smile, Aonung rubbed it into his skin, like a cream. The dapophet gel really was amazingly multipurpose, ranging from creams, quick re-hydration foods, and tattoo binding liquids. Aonung smirked though, continuing their prior conversation.
"Aw, you're cute. Did you have a crush on me? Is that why you mated with me? That's embarrassing. I just mated with you because you agreed when I asked." Aonung said in a condescending manner after removing all the cream, crowding into Lo'ak's space again, making his hips hit the table. He reached a hand behind his head, pulling a thick braid forward. It laid against his skin, Lo'ak's eyes trailing over the still softly swinging braid. His other hand came around to hold his weight by the table, locking the shorter man in front of him.
Lo'ak felt a burst of fondness—Aonung still hadn't changed that much in terms of personality over the years. Sure, he'd mellowed out and learned the definition of patience, but they still had bouts of banter and clashed whenever the opportunity could arise. It was embarrassingly endearing.
"I mated with you because you were a stubborn little boy with a crush the size of a mountain. You never stopped bothering me, what else was I supposed to do?" Lo'ak mused back, pulling his own queue out from behind him. He teasingly twirled it with his index finger in front of Aonung's watchful gaze, looking up at him through his lashes. "But if you're saying you don't want to be with me..." Lo'ak trailed off menacingly with a smirk, casually tossing his braid behind him.
The taller man groaned and pouted, an uncommon but not rare act of childishness display. Definitely rare and unheard of in public, but alone with his mate, they both felt safe enough to indulge in more playful personalities. Aonung also knew that Lo'ak had a certain soft spot for him as long as he tried enough, pulling out all the stops. It worked both ways, but Lo'ak generally had less restraint, unlike the years of patience and practice Aonung had been forced into to be the new Olo'eyktan.
"You're putting words into my mouth, you tease," Aonung complained. The reef na'vi loved the effect he had on the other man, the willingness and patience to give in to his whims. He was probably banking on Lo'ak giving in again. Too bad for Lo'ak that he was steadily gaining a healthy resistance to the Olo'eyktan's juvenile charms.
Which lead them to why Aonung had skipped his current duties, anyway.
Today marked about the second year of Aonung being crowned as the new Olo'eyktan. It was an honour to be the new chief so young, to be able to responsibly lead the new generation into prosperity and peace. Of course, it was a travesty to have lost the dynamic duo of Tonowari and Ronal's long term reign, but it brought onto the Metkayina clan a new duo with new strengths, the Tonowari siblings. Excluding their youngest sibling, who was still somewhat of a child.
It was worth noting that Tonowari and Ronal were still alive and kicking, but combined with losing a limb from the war with the ash tribe, and their youngest son being a handful, stepping down seemed to be their best option. Not just for their family, but for the strength of their clan. Lo'ak was proud of his husband, and the many trials and near death situations they both faced together to come to this point in both of their lives. And when he said many, he meant many.
Lo'ak's first time in the forest being shot down from his ikran. When Aonung had left him past the reef, his jealousy and over-bearing peers blinding him. The time he was kidnapped and taken on the sky people's boat, the rest of his siblings and friends in mortal peril as well. Aonung on his iknimaya quest, being faced with a large nalutsa—Lo'ak liked to fondly think of that incident as Eywa's payback for the exact same scenario. Rotxo and Aonung accidentally getting too drunk and almost passing out sixty feet deep in water (Kiri was not happy with either of the reef na'vi for three weeks, giving her boyfriend and his best-friend the silent treatment). The whole tribal war with the fire people, their flames and soot burning peril and fear onto their people.
It was a lot. A lot for a clan to face in one generation, let alone a single person to brave in only their early and late teens.
Lo'ak hummed, leaning back into the table casually, crossing his arms. "Maybe if you admit you actually liked me first, I would consider not being a tease, as you call it."
"Aw, baby, come on, it's been hours since we last did tsaheylu," Aonung tried reasoning. "Before the tattoo? Before you have to feel my physical pain?"
"Too late! Now shut up and take a seat, my love. I have to start on the markings anyway, no time for pleasantries. Unless you've changed your mind about your tattoos, too?" It was just too easy to rile him up.
"No! I haven't changed my mind on anything." Aonung complained, wrinkling his nose and dropping his head. "Stop, stop confusing me. My mind doesn't work as fast as yours, you have to be nice to me, it's required in the husband guide book."
"There is no guide book, silly. Otherwise Neteyam would have forced you to read it all, then quiz you on how to best treat me. Then dump raw fish juice on you anyway, actually. Nothing would have satisfied him enough, to be fair."
His brother was over protective, but learning that Aonung of all people was his chosen mate made him become unbearably protective—at least in the first few months. It really was hilarious seeing him dump a pound of painstakingly squeezed fish juice on his then-boyfriend, even if it was hard to be around Aonung for the next three days. Mostly because of the absolutely rancid smell of raw fish (that and the fact that he couldn't stop laughing in his boyfriend's face at the mere memory resurfacing when he saw his face).
"Neteyam is the devil incarnate with a weird obsession of protecting his siblings. It's a surprise he even got Ra'yan to like him back."
The mention of Neteyam's relatively new girlfriend made Lo'ak's heart warm—him finding love in the girl he admired and crushed on since they arrived at the reef made his younger siblings inexplicably happy. He deserved love, and Ra'yan was a beautiful fit. The years of pining from a distance was also starting to grate at Lo'ak's nerves, so him finally taking a shot with her was a massive relief to his tired ears.
Lo'ak coughed, stifling a laugh. The forest na'vi uncrossed his arms, a hand slipping up the other boy's, running his fingers up across sensitive prickled skin, a smirk on his face. "So you admit you liked me first? You fell in love and tried courting me so badly my mom thought you liked Kiri?"
Aonung groaned, leaning his forehead on Lo'ak's shoulder, back curved. He pressed his open mouth against the shorter boy's neck, blunt fangs cold across his bare skin. Lo'ak shivered. "Eywa, don't bring that up, you know I hate that story. That was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life, and Kiri refuses to let me live it down."
"I wouldn't either, if I was her." Lo'ak cracked up, giggling to himself. His tail lashed with amusement. "You wouldn't stop asking her about me! Followed her around for weeks. You were such a coward when you were younger, tìyawn. I wasn't going to bite you."
"I wouldn't have minded."
"That's because you're a freak," Lo'ak replied, going along with his antics.
"Aren't you the freak?" The other man mused, one hand coming down to grab at Lo'ak's. He intertwined their fingers together, a wild and cocky grin on his features. "I mean, not only are you oddly short for a male na'vi, you have hair on your brows, and five fingers."
Right, Aonung really hadn't changed all that much.
"Says a lot about you, mating a freak." Lo'ak still loved him though, annoyingly enough.
"Maybe that's my type, freaks," the reef na'vi said, a speculative expression on his face. "Never liked anyone before you, anyways. It must be freaks."
"Stop," Lo'ak snickered, "Freak is starting to not sound like a word now."
They exchanged grins, the forest na'vi squeezing his husband's hand tightly. It was so nice, he thought to himself, just having them be together without any underlying need for fear. Without fighting, like their teenage years, without war and bloodshed, in their early adulthood days. It was peaceful, waking up to a glossy sun rise and a kiss from his husband, and it was just as peaceful reuniting before bedtime, exchanging stories about their days and sinking into each other's arms.
It was everything he's always wanted, and it was even better now that he was living in it.
"Okay, my txurtu, sit down so I can finally get to what you're here for. You're lucky I was pre-mixing my pigments early on." He pushed at Aonung's shoulders until the taller man got the point, taking a seat on one of the wooden lounge chairs, back against the marui pod's strong woven walls.
"Do I need to tell you my life story?" Aonung said, voice heavily amused. His hands tapped against the wood grain in a soothing and familiar pattern. The glossy white crystal bead that had the same, familiar tune rested against the smooth indent in between Lo'ak's clavicle, the supra-sternal notch. It's cold touch was a permanent reminder of the day they finally mated. "Oh, it's so tragic, really. It all started when I was only fifteen years old, and these five crazy looking na'vi came down from the sky. Life changed really, nothing was ever the same."
"Five?" The pigments settled a bit, a greasy layer of gel on top. Lo'ak gave it another quick stir, binding the ingredients again in a smooth mixture.
Aonung sniffed, head tilted in the air. "Tuk was alright, I guess. She's always been my favourite sibling."
Lo'ak laughed, shoulders shaking as he tried not to drop the bowl of carefully mixed paints. "You know very well she hated your guts when you left me past the reef. Tsireya was her favourite, if I had to pick."
"Tsireya is good with children, that's unfair." Well. He wasn't exactly wrong, she was just more patient and forgiving.
"I'm assuming that's why you left her to fend for herself with the new hunters of age?"
"No, that's because I was excited to see what design you'd give me. Getting my tattoo's done from you, now that's definitely something to be excited for. Not every day your husband is more famous than you are, as Olo'eyktan."
"You're pretty influential, but not as much as someone who can offer permanent and powerful tattoo bindings. I heard the clan of Ta'unui's Olo'eyktan wanted to come down and get his arms done from me, oddly enough." Lo'ak finished stirring the mixtures again, turning around with the bowl in his hand. He set it down on the stand beside the chair Aonung sat in, going back to his desk to get his other tools.
"Influential?" Aonung had a questioning tone in his voice, skin of his brows furrowed a little.
"Just the fact that you could convince Tsireya to watch over the new infantile hunters shows how much power you have," Lo'ak mused. "You have the ability to rally your peers into anything, a tongue as sharp as a sword."
"You would know," Aonung said, snorting at his own joke. Lo'ak wrinkled his nose and slapped at his shoulder, face flushing a deep blue. His ears twitched, ignoring the way Aonung tracked how his agitated tail flicked behind him.
"You're insufferable." He grabbed at his bowl of pigment with nothing better to say.
"You love me," Aonung said. Somehow, his hands found themselves on his hips again. Lo'ak rolled his eyes but didn't offer a rebuttal. Instead, he gave him a quick kiss before dipping his fingers into the bowl.
Tattoos were incredibly personal and precise, using a brush or a painting needle wasn't his usual go to for sharp edges like these. His nails, claws really, were perfect for sharp corners and steady hands the right tool for exactly straight lines. The direct touch helped him know exactly how much pressure to use, see where he needed to stop. It was what worked best for him. Of course, Aonung being his mate helped the urge as well, as this was personal to both of them.
It really was once in a few generations that the Olo'eyktan's spouse would be the one to detail a tattoo on them, even more so one as difficult as a facial design.
The special pigmented mixture was smeared carefully over Aonung's forehead, down the curve of his cheek, following the slope of his neck. Sharp patterns emerged under his careful handling, tip of his index and thumb finger stained a dark black, slight blue of his skin peeking out the pigment.
(These days, Lo'ak's fingers were always stained a bit of a darker hue. Ra'yan liked to laminate this fact by offering him frequent hand massages and washes, trying to dye his hands back to their normal colour with flowers and plants. If nothing else, she did paint his nails quite nicely when he allowed it.)
Detailing a tattoo specific to it's holder was usually hard work, with Lo'ak having to block out hours of certain days to listen to the na'vi's life stories, their struggles and victories. While na'vi were encouraged to choose their own tattoo placements, they always had to be vetted and designed by a proper tattoo artist.
That's where his job came in, alongside the long hours of getting to know every single na'vi intimately, Lo'ak had to be very diligent in listening. Every stroke of his fingers and brush, every needle pounding, every design he curated—it was all highly specific to it's owner. The lines and shapes of every single stroke told a story, showed an adventure in the tale of their body art.
His job was incredibly emotionally demanding.
On the bright side, his work made him an invaluable member to his husband and sister-in-law. While Lo'ak wasn't technically someone in a place of higher position, unlike what Tuk suggested, his work as one of the only tattoo artists in the clan made him a famous character. That and the fact that many other reef na'vi from different clans sought him out personally for his rumoured permanent and also strongly coloured pigments. Tuk claimed that he was even more famous than Aonung because of his work, flustering him and amusing his husband.
He never really believed her claim, until the tsahìk of the Ta'unui clan contacted him about detailing her husbands arms. That really sealed the deal for him, having to come to terms with the fact that he was important to the reef na'vi's, that he wasn't just a nameless spouse to someone who was influential.
Well. There were worse possible outcomes of falling in love and mating with Aonung.
Lo'ak found himself losing time as he painted his design. Aonung looked peaceful with his eyes closed, face un-tensed. His breaths were soft and slow, chest rising and falling steadily. His hair was up for once, unlike the way he usually wore his hair down these days. The stray curls that escaped his bun trailed down his face, water-falling down the curve of his neck. Lo'ak gently brushed it away, tucking it behind his husband's ear. His husband was pretty, Lo'ak mused to himself, no matter how tough Aonung wanted to seem like.
If he slowed down his painting process to stare at his own husband unabashedly, that was no one else's tale to tell but his. He was a married man, and he intended to act like it, including all the stupid sappy stuff.
Sadly, the last stroke of his index finger came, finishing the loose ink design. Most good things came to an end, and Lo'ak's shameless staring time was one of them.
"Design is finished, txasunu. Do you want to see it before we start needling it down?" Lo'ak asked as he grabbed a black obsidian mirror from beside him, resting on the stand with his other tools. They didn't exactly have real mirrors in the reef, not like the perfectly reflective iron ones the humans had back at the forest. The flat black plane of the obsidian worked well enough though, reflected back a strong enough image in the light to see his features and the dark black pigments.
Aonung carefully opened his eyes, trying hard not to disturb his features and potentially mess up the still settling ink designs. The small mirror fit entirely in his palm, to Lo'ak's amusement. The reef na'vi really did have big hands, proportionate to his tall frame. It was one of the things he really liked about him.
He breathed in with an air of amazement, a little bit shocked. "It's amazing. You really are the best at this line of work, you know that?"
"Not to toot my own horn, or anything, but Tuk's got that covered for you."
Sometimes it made him a little uncomfortable at how strongly she looked up to him, but other times it made him happy that he could be there for her. Like Neteyam, the way he was—is—for him. She was only sixteen years old, and had already face so much strife in her life. The best he could do was be a rock for her, someone always in her corner.
"Tuk's not even here and she's shot my pride down twice in the past hour," Aonung said, smile clear in his voice.
It was a very pretty smile. Lo'ak liked to say that when Aonung smiled, he looked more like his mother, Ronal. Except now, with the intricate tattoos detailing on his forehead and chin, he looked a lot more like Tonowari, his father's features exaggerated and popping out at him. He didn't fail to mention this observation to him.
Aonung smiled, a look of adoration in his eyes. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Lo'ak breathed, voice quiet. "Powerful, strong-willed, patient. Same nose and curious, captivating eyes."
Aonung's eyes got progressively mistier at his words. Not surprisingly, the taller man looked up to his dad heavily. It reminded Lo'ak of himself, his own endless chasing after his father's glory and namesake. Except Aonung really did have to chase after his father's legacy, filling in the shoes as the new Olo'eyktan. "Thanks. Means—it means a lot."
Lo'ak cracked a smile. "I know. Beefy, too."
He cackled when Aonung rolled his eyes and smacked at him, shoulders shaking. The man in question had a soft grin on his face though, so Lo'ak took it as a win. "Just get on with the tattoo, skxawng."
The sudden somber and serious mood lightened, but the air of affection stayed. Well, it was his job, even if the na'vi didn't have any form of currency.
"Alright, un-tense your face, you brute." Lo'ak grabbed his bone needle and mallet, created during his research to be a tattoo artist. It was a specific set made perfectly for him, grooves for where his fingers rested, weight heavy in his hands but light enough for him to move as agile as possible. "Face tattoos hurt more than body ones, and you know very well that tensing will just make things more painful."
"What if I like the pain?" Aonung murmured, skin of his brows cocked, but ultimately un-clenching his jaw. It was nice to see his face relaxed, an expression of pure love in his eyes. Lo'ak was so incredibly far gone for this man, it was almost disgusting.
"Then we'll talk about that when my needle isn't two inches away from your eyes." He tried to ignore the fondness seeping through his tone, but Aonung caught on anyways. The taller na'vi gently put his hands on Lo'ak's waist, mindful to keep the sharp needle in the other man's hands steady and away from his skin, tugging him closer until he was standing in the middle of his legs. He looked up, a grin in his features.
"You're so perfect," he fake swooned, arms tight around his waist.
"We've been mated for four years, Aonung."
Aonung carefully wrinkled his nose, mindful of the ink. "Perfect doesn't have an expiration date."
Lo'ak made a noise of disbelief at him. Instead, he picked up his mallet in one hand and the flat edge of the bone needle in the other. "Take a deep breath, yawne."
Placing the sharp point on the edge of an ink blob, he let it rest there before gently but firmly cracking his mallet down on the back end of his large needle, the flat plane attached to the sharp ridge. It cut into his skin slightly, as expected with it's purpose of pushing the ink into his skin, but Aonung couldn't mask his sharp hiss at the feeling.
"You good?" Lo'ak murmured, quiet underlining question of if he should continue. Of course, Aonung would have to get his facial designs done as soon as possible, but it was well mannered to check in with his clients at any point during the procedure. They always had another tomorrow, especially with their extremely long lifespans.
As expected, Aonung nodded. His eyes were tightly shut closed, but relaxed after a good minute. "Sorry, it's been a while since I've gotten this done."
"I know," Lo'ak replied, patient. He understood what Aonung meant. Lo'ak had his own tattoos done by another artist on the island, an old woman by the name of Nao'is.
(She was a kind hearted woman who was slowly growing too old for the art, the strength required to bare down on a needle and lacking the patience and time needed to listen to a young na'vi's life story. She had no children, but she reminded him heavily of his own grandmother, Mo'at. It was a comfort to be able to talk to her on nights when he started missing his grandmother heavily.
He learned all that he knew from Nao'is, and then some.
She had done the many tattoos ranging from his hips down his inner thighs, in semblance of his victories and challenges with Payakan, his tulkun spirit brother. The tulkun rider, she had called him fondly, ignoring him as he had hissed and cried through the pain of getting his sensitive inner thighs done at the age of freshly eighteen. Her needles were insanely sharp, both a blessing and a curse. His only other tattoos were on his hands, the right where he used to swing the mallet down, and the left where he positioned his needle. They highlighted the importance of his hands and the art he created.
Nao'is had her own hand tattoos done by her previous teacher, in the same way she did Lo'ak's. It was fitting, passing the art down onto the new generation.)
Aonung sighed then nodded minutely, signaling for him to continue. So they did, minutes blurring together as they slowly progressed through the sharp detailing and long ink strokes. They had pauses sprinkled in whenever Aonung called for it, or when Lo'ak felt it was needed. Sometimes his hands seized from gripping his tools too tight, stuck too long in one position, so they would stop until they relaxed. In Lo'ak's opinion, they were making great progress throughout the day. The sun was still high and the sand still warm, so they had as long as they needed. Although if it did come to darkness, Lo'ak had torches placed strategically to get the most use out of the fire to be able to work just as efficiently at night.
They're on another break, when Aonung and Tsireya's little brother breaks in.
Well, as relative to breaking in one could get when the marui pods were two woven walls and open air in between. Really, the seven year old had just walked in, curious eyes and upturned ears.
"That looks painful," he said, coming over to sling himself over the arm of the chair.
He was right, it did look awfully painful. Freshly needled tattoo's usually looked like that, after being forcefully pushed into the skin. Lo'ak was only done about half of Aonung's forehead tattoo, but the raised skin was already slowly de-puffing itself as the pain simmered.
Aonung reached over and ruffled Sayari's loose hair, ignoring the seven year old's huff. "Nothing I can't handle."
"You're just saying that, you have to be in pain right now! I heard you scream like a little girl when you accidentally stubbed your toe helping Ma move her furniture. You're such a liar."
The older brother stuck his tongue out. "Sai, shut up. You're not helping me impress my husband here."
"You don't need to impress him! He's like, stuck with you now. Dad said tsaheylu is forever."
Lo'ak laughed at their antics. "Not unless I take him out."
"Like on a date?" Oh, sweet child. Lo'ak smiled at the little boy's question.
"Sure, like on a—" Lo'ak's cut off by Aonung elbowing him.
"He means murder, Sai. Gruesome murder, like arrow through the chest and heart, blood everywhere." He emphasizes his point by pretending to get shot at, falling backwards and limbs flying askew. "Like when auntie Neytiri gets real mad at uncle Jake and uses him as target practice."
Sayari wrinkled his nose, skin of his brows pinched disgustedly. "You're so weird. I'm not four anymore."
"That wasn't for you, Sai, that was for his own personal enjoyment." Lo'ak ran a hand through Sayari's messed up hair, licking his thumb to tuck a stray frizzy hair down his ear. "Just let him be his overgrown man-child self in peace. I'm sure it gives him happiness."
"Rude," Aonung said, defying the big grin on his face. "No one's too old for a little action playing." He ignores Sayari's indignant disagreement, claiming he's not a toddler anymore.
Well. Lo'ak is nothing if not an instigator, and it's nothing but a little bit of banter and fun, so. "Who's the bigger baby, you or Sai? Let's take a vote. I say you are, my love.”
"Traitor!"
In the end, it's two versus one. Aonung hangs his head in mock shame, waxing poetic about the horrors of betrayal amongst his closest relatives. Sayari and Lo'ak laugh at him, disgustingly domestic. It's close to an hour later when Sai ends up leaving, having watched Lo'ak work on Aonung's forehead for a good portion of that time. It's peaceful, and it warms Lo'ak's heart, having the love of his life with him and one of his favourite youngest clan members with them. His little brother-in-law, oddly enough.
It's the happiest he's been in a long time.
He pressed a kiss against his husband's mouth, pulling his braid in front of him. There's a contemplative look in Aonung's face that he resolutely ignores. Well, he said he wouldn't, but he was in a good mood. Besides, it really had been a few hours since they last connected. It was only right.
Aonung springs the question on him, some time after Sayari leaves.
"What?" Lo'ak said, in a tone of disbelief. He carefully lowered both his bone needle and mallet away from Aonung's face. It's not that he's entirely unwilling—it's just. They're still young, respectively both twenty-two and twenty-three years old only. That's... that's... that's actually not that young. "I don't know, love."
"You wouldn't be doing it alone, yawne. They'd be my kid too, and this whole village would love them. It really does take a whole village to raise a child. My sister and I are perfect examples of that."
"Yet somehow, you were a devil at fifteen and your sister was a perfect angel," Lo'ak replied, a single delicate eyebrow raised.
"Well. No excuse there. Turned out just fine though, didn't I?" Aonung teased back, a sheepish smile on his face.
"Relatively. We're not that old, Aonung."
"We're not getting any younger, though." Aonung slid his hand from Lo'ak's waist to his flat stomach, thumb absentmindedly stroking the skin. "We'd have forever with them, this way."
"You're so opportunistic, you know that?" Lo'ak murmured, careful not to disturb the settling ink still seeping from Aonung's dark blue agitated and raised skin as he leaned his forehead on his shoulder. "Asking the big question while I'm high on Sayari's baby fever."
"I'm just saying, Sai's a menace and also not an actual baby, so if you actually like him, you'd definitely like our future children."
It's a nice thought, to be honest. To have children, mixed with both his and his lover's antics and genes, to have another person to love whole-heartedly. To give love freely to someone the way he wished he had love given to him. His heart aches at the thought. Damn, scheming bastard.
Lo'ak weakly protested with a grunt. His stomach flip-flopped and flexed at the thought. "Let me finish this ink first, then we'll talk about your little baby fever."
Aonung smiles through the rest of the tattoo, despite the hard mallet and sharp needle. He must have known planting the idea early on would be a sure-fire way to slowly turn Lo'ak over. Dumbass, Lo'ak thinks, his own fond smile peeking out the corners of his mouth, my dumbass.
("You told him to come here, didn't you?"
"Can never get anything past you, can I?" Aonung snickered, hand around Lo'ak's waist squeezing twice before dropping. "So... you still want to talk about it?"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let me get drunk before the month ends and we can start trying on the next. Excitable bastard. Have to enjoy myself for a bit before ruining my physique for a few months."
"It is a nice stomach.")