Chapter Text
The first time Neteyam brought his catch to Aonung’s marui, it had been a simple act—a gesture of friendship, or so it seemed. But as the weeks passed, it became something more. Each time Neteyam returned from hunting or fishing, he found himself walking toward Aonung’s marui, the weight of his catch in hand, without even thinking about it. Aonung never asked, never expected, but he always welcomed Neteyam’s presence.
At some point, Neteyam had simply started staying the night there. No conversation, no agreement—they didn’t need one. It was just understood. One night turned into two, then three, until suddenly Neteyam wasn’t just visiting anymore. He was living there. His belongings, few as they were, slowly migrated to Aonung’s side of the village. The space that was once only Aonung’s now had traces of Neteyam everywhere, from the small tools he brought to repair things, to the shells and feathers scattered across the floor, the same ones he used for Aonung’s braids.
Aonung didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it—enjoyed the quiet rhythm they had found together. Neteyam bringing his catches, Aonung cooking them in return. They didn’t need words to settle into this routine, and Neteyam found comfort in how natural it felt.
But there was something else, something Neteyam hadn’t done yet. Something that burned quietly in his chest every time he watched Aonung’s hair fall in loose waves after a long day, begging to be touched. It was one thing to tend to Aonung’s hair at night, when the world was asleep and it felt like their secret. But in the daylight? With everyone watching? That was something different—something bolder.
One afternoon, after returning from a long hunt, Neteyam stood at the entrance to the marui, holding a bundle of fish and a decision in his chest. He set the fish down on the small table inside and glanced over at Aonung, who was reclining on the floor, lazily cleaning his hunting knife. The way the light hit Aonung’s face made him look even more relaxed, and Neteyam felt the weight of his own desire to do more, to be more open about what he felt.
He took a breath, his heart beating a little faster than usual. "Aonung," he started, voice steady but carrying the weight of something deeper. "Would you let me... care for your hair?"
Aonung looked up, eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just watching Neteyam with those sharp eyes of his. Then, a slow smile spread across his face, one that made Neteyam’s heart skip a beat.
"You want to do it now?" Aonung asked, sitting up straighter, his tone teasing but not unkind.
Neteyam nodded, trying to keep his voice even. "Yeah. Now. If that’s alright."
Aonung chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. "I suppose you’ve earned it," he said, leaning back again, fully relaxed. "Go ahead."
That was all the permission Neteyam needed. He sat behind Aonung, gathering his hair into his hands with practiced ease. His fingers moved with familiar precision, untangling the strands and weaving them into intricate braids, the way he always had when Aonung was asleep. But this time, the sunlight poured into the marui, and anyone passing by could see them—see how close they were, how intimate this act was.
Neteyam’s hands worked gently, reverently, his heart full as he wove a few small shells into the braids. Aonung leaned back into him slightly, letting out a soft, contented sigh, and Neteyam’s chest swelled with pride. He was claiming Aonung, not just in the quiet moments of the night, but here, in the open, where everyone could see. It was an unspoken declaration, a bold step forward.
When Neteyam was finished, Aonung ran his hands through his hair, fingers brushing the shells lightly. He gave a small, approving nod, clearly satisfied. “You’re getting better at this,” Aonung said, grinning up at him. “Maybe I should let you do it more often.”
Neteyam smirked. “Maybe you should.”
As if to seal the exchange, Aonung stood and moved toward the table where the fish Neteyam had brought were laid out. Without a word, he began to prepare them, his hands working deftly over the catch. The sound of sizzling fish soon filled the marui, and the air grew thick with the smell of the ocean and the fire.
Aonung turned to Neteyam, his expression casual but his tone filled with quiet understanding. “You brought it. I’ll cook it. And you can… do whatever you want.”
Neteyam’s heart skipped a beat at the invitation, the openness of it. He could feel the heat in his chest spreading, the possibilities hanging in the air between them. He watched Aonung work, every movement of his hands, the easy way he handled the fish, the trust implicit in his words.
Neteyam took a step closer, letting the moment settle between them like the calm before a storm. He could see it now—the life they were building together, the unspoken bond that went beyond words or agreements. There was no need to define it; it just was .
And Neteyam was ready to take whatever came next.