The first time Appa abandoned Aang for you, it happened so naturally that you almost missed it.
You were sitting outside the Southern Air Temple with your back against a warm stone wall, sharing a basket of steamed buns with Sokka while Aang and Toph argued a few yards away about whether the latest practice field had been “improved” or “destroyed.” Appa had been napping nearby, one enormous eye lazily half-open, tail flicking every so often in the sunlight.
You had only broken off a bite of bun when you noticed the sound.
You looked up just in time to see Appa lift his head, blink at you, and then heave his massive body upright with a grunt. Before Aang could finish saying, “No, I’m telling you, the field is better this way,” Appa lumbered straight over to you and lowered his head into your lap with a content sigh.
The bun hovered halfway to your mouth.
Across the courtyard, Aang stopped talking.
His eyes widened. Then narrowed in deep, personal offense.
Aang pointed dramatically. “Appa, no. I was speaking to you.”
Sokka made a choking sound that was probably laughter. Toph turned her face toward the noise and immediately smirked. “Wow,” she said. “Bison’s got standards.”
You slowly set the bun down beside Appa’s nose, and his ears twitched. He nudged your arm once, gentle and expectant.
“He’s taking your food,” he said, scandalized.
You blinked at him. “He’s sharing my food.”
“That’s not sharing,” Aang said. “That’s theft with manners.”
Appa made a pleased rumble and swallowed the bun whole.
You could not help it. You laughed.
Aang put one hand over his heart as if you had wounded him personally. “Traitor,” he said to Appa.
Appa’s only response was to lean harder into your side.
It became a problem after that.
Or at least, it became Aang’s problem.
Appa began following you around more often than not. If you crossed the courtyard, he lumbered after you like a fluffy mountain. If you sat down for tea, he plopped himself nearby and waited for you to scratch the patch between his horns. If you were carrying anything remotely interesting,food, a blanket, a satchel, one single apple,Appa would appear from nowhere with the quiet determination of a creature who knew exactly where the favorite person in the world stood.
Aang, unfortunately, noticed everything.
He noticed Appa stealing your seat on the terrace.
He noticed Appa allowing you to braid little strips of ribbon into the fur around his neck.
He noticed Appa dropping his head into your lap every time you sat on the grass near the gardens.
What he did not notice,at least not until it was too late,was the way you always smiled when Appa came to you. The way your hands got gentler around him. The way you talked to him as if he understood every word.
Aang certainly acted like he did.
One afternoon, he came looking for you with a stack of papers under one arm and a very tired expression on his face. You were in the open courtyard, kneeling beside Appa while you tried to untangle a length of rope that had somehow wrapped itself around one of his saddle straps.
Aang stopped in the archway.
Appa was practically draped over you.
You were leaning close to the bison’s face, murmuring, “Hold still. You are making this worse.”
Appa blinked slowly at you, blissfully unhelpful.
Aang let the papers slide against his chest. “Excuse me,” he said.
Appa made a happy noise and nudged your shoulder.
“He only does that when he wants to be fed,” he said.
You returned your attention to the knot. “I’m aware.”
“He does not respect the concept of personal space.”
“Neither do you, when you want noodles.”
Then he looked at Appa, who had the audacity to close his eyes in satisfaction.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered.
You finally pulled the rope free and straightened with a sigh. “There. Done.”
Appa immediately turned and rested his chin on your arm.
Aang’s expression was deeply betrayed.
“He likes me,” you said, almost laughing now. “There’s no need to look so wounded.”
Aang made a disbelieving noise. “No need? Appa used to greet me with excitement. Me. His own rider.”
Aang pointed at you as if presenting evidence in court. “Now he greets you with excitement.”
You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling too much. “Maybe I’m just more fun.”
Aang placed the papers onto a nearby stone bench with exaggerated care, then folded his arms. “I see.”
You tilted your head. “Do you?”
“I do. This is a conspiracy.”
“Yes.” He stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “A plot against me. A carefully arranged campaign of bribery and affection.”
Aang looked up. “Don’t encourage them.”
You burst out laughing, and Appa immediately leaned into the sound, as if your laughter was the point of the entire afternoon. He nudged your side, then made a low, satisfied noise when you rubbed the top of his nose.
Aang watched the whole thing with the wounded dignity of a man who had lost a war.
Then, quite suddenly, he gasped.
His hand flew to his chest. “I have been replaced.”
You gave him a flat look. “You are being dramatic.”
“I am not being dramatic,” he said. “I am suffering.”
Toph’s voice floated from the doorway behind him. “You are absolutely being dramatic.”
Aang whipped around. “Toph, I did not ask for your opinion.”
“You didn’t have to,” she said. “Your face is doing all the talking.”
You laughed again, and Aang turned back to you with a look that was trying very hard to be stern and failing.
“I can’t believe you’re all against me,” he said.
You leaned down and scratched Appa under the chin. “Maybe Appa just has better taste.”
Appa made an approving grumble.
Aang stared at the two of you in utter disbelief. “I am being bullied in my own temple.”
By sunset, Aang had decided the betrayal needed to be addressed properly.
Which, naturally, meant he had turned it into a performance.
He called everyone to the central courtyard under the excuse of a “very important matter.” Sokka came expecting a crisis. Katara came with the kind of patience usually reserved for children and firebenders. Toph came because she wanted to see what was happening. You came because Aang had given you a look that said this was either going to be ridiculous or private, and you were fairly certain it would be both.
Appa stood in the middle of the courtyard, enormous and calm, with you beside him and Aang pacing dramatically in front of both of you.
“I would like it recorded,” he announced, “that I was once a treasured and beloved companion.”
Sokka crossed his arms. “You still are.”
Aang pointed at him. “Not relevant.”
Katara sighed. “Aang, please tell me this is not about Appa preferring Y/N.”
The silence that followed was enough answer on its own.
Toph snorted. “Oh, this is going to be good.”
Aang clasped his hands behind his back and faced Appa as if addressing a very difficult political matter. “Appa. We need to discuss your behavior.”
You bit your lip, already smiling.
Aang continued, wounded but dignified. “I understand that people change. Bonds evolve. But there are limits. You cannot simply abandon your longtime rider in favor of someone who, until recently, had to be reminded to stop feeding you dried fruit before dinner.”
“I remember that,” Katara said dryly.
“You fed him six mangoes,” she added, looking at you.
You lifted a hand. “In my defense, he looked hungry.”
Appa thumped his tail against the stones.
Aang threw his hands wide. “See? He agrees with you!”
The courtyard dissolved into laughter.
Even Aang, despite himself, had to smile a little, though he tried to hide it by turning it into a sigh.
You stepped closer to him, lowering your voice. “Are you actually upset?”
He glanced at you, and the teasing in his expression softened into something more real.
That tugged something warm in your chest.
“He still loves you,” you said.
Aang gave Appa a long look. “Then he has a very strange way of showing it.”
Appa immediately nuzzled your shoulder.
You laughed, but Aang’s gaze stayed on you for a moment longer than necessary. The courtyard noise seemed to fall away around the two of you, the evening air quiet and gold between the temple stones. Appa’s warm breath brushed your arm. Somewhere nearby, Sokka was muttering that he “did not sign up for this level of emotional trauma,” but you barely heard him.
Aang scratched the back of his neck. “I suppose I can’t really blame him.”
You tilted your head. “No?”
He shook his head, looking a little embarrassed now. “You’re kind to him.”
You looked down at Appa, who had settled so closely beside you that you were nearly leaning against his fur. “He’s easy to be kind to.”
Aang smiled faintly. “That’s because he likes you.”
You felt your face warm, but you held his gaze. “You. Do you not like me, too?”
For the first time all evening, Aang went still.
Then his ears turned pink.
“I,” he said carefully, “may have a difficult time competing with a six-ton sky bison.”
That made you laugh, but the sound came out softer than you intended.
Aang looked at you, and something in his expression shifted. Gone was the mock offense, the dramatic outrage. What remained was open and tender and a little shy around the edges, as if he had been caught revealing something he had meant to keep hidden.
Appa chose that moment to bump his head into your shoulder and then into Aang’s side as well, as if to arrange the two of you more neatly.
Sokka made a noise behind you. “Oh, come on.”
Katara covered her smile with one hand.
Toph grinned like she had just won a bet nobody else knew about.
Aang looked down at Appa, then back at you, and let out a helpless laugh. “Fine,” he said. “I admit defeat.”
You arched a brow. “To Appa?”
Then he extended one hand toward you, palm up, with the sort of gentle confidence that always made your heart stutter just a little.
“Can I at least have the next dance with you tonight,” he asked, “before Appa steals you again?”
The courtyard went very quiet.
You looked at his hand, then at his face, and felt your smile go soft around the edges.
“I think,” you said, placing your hand in his, “that can be arranged.”
Aang’s fingers curled around yours.
Appa snorted, satisfied at last, and laid himself down in the middle of the courtyard with all the smugness of a creature who had successfully orchestrated the entire evening.
Sokka groaned. “I hate how well this worked.”
Toph laughed. Katara shook her head. Aang squeezed your hand once, just enough to make you look at him again.
His smile was small and warm and unmistakably affectionate.
“Still think I’m losing?” he murmured.
You glanced at Appa, who was watching the two of you with enormous, sleepy eyes.
Then you looked back at Aang.
He groaned, but he was smiling when he did it.
You leaned in closer, lowering your voice so only he could hear.
And when Aang laughed, bright and full and hopelessly fond, Appa’s ears flicked once in approval, as if even he knew the truth now:
He had not betrayed Aang at all.
He had simply decided you belonged with them, too.
