The village is alive with the usual evening hum—the soft glow of bioluminescent vines winding up the massive trees and the warm, earthy scent of cooked yerik wafting from the communal fires. Jake sits on the edge of the woven platform outside your shared kelutral, legs dangling over the drop, his tail swishing lazily behind him.

The kids are finally down: Neteyam out cold after a long day of training, Lo'ak and Kiri bickering themselves to sleep in their hammocks, and little Tuk curled up like a ball of fluff, thumb in her mouth.

But damn, he's beat. Fatherhood's no joke—four kids underfoot, always needing something: food, stories, lessons on how not to piss off a viperwolf. He loves 'em, don't get him wrong. They're his world now, these little blue troublemakers. But it's been ages since it's just been him and you. No interruptions, no "Dad, Lo'ak hit me!" or "Mom, Tuk won't share!" Just... you.

He hears you before he sees you; the soft pad of your feet on the woven floor as you step out. You plop down beside him, warm and familiar. "Kids out?" you ask, voice low and tired, but with that hint of a smile he knows so well.

"Yeah, finally," he mutters, glancing over. You're still in your day's gear—feathers woven into your hair, the faint glow of paint on your skin from helping with the evening rituals. Eywa, you're beautiful. Always have been, but motherhood's added this glow, this strength that makes his chest tighten every time. He wants to touch you like he used to, back when it was just stolen moments in the forest, hearts racing like they were breaking rules.

You lean back on your hands, staring out at the twinkling lights of the village below, and he catches the way your tail curls around his, casual but intentional. It's these little things that get him; reminders that under all the chaos, you're still his. "Rough day?" you say, bumping his shoulder lightly.

He snorts, rubbing a hand over his face. "Every day's rough with those monkeys. But yeah... missin' us, y'know? Just you and me."

You turn to look at him, those yellow eyes reflecting the bioluminescence like stars, and he feels that pull in his gut. He reaches out, fingers tracing the line of your arm, feeling the smooth texture of your skin under his callused pads. "C'mere, baby," he says, voice dropping lower, tugging you closer until you're half in his lap.

You laugh softly, straddling his thighs without much protest, hands resting on his chest. The weight of you feels right, grounding, and he let out a happy sigh as you settle, hands sliding to your hips, gripping just firm enough to let you know he's not letting go easy. "Jake..." you whisper in a reprimanding tone, but there's heat in it, that spark he missed like hell.

He leans in, nose brushing yours, breathing the faint sweetness of the nectar you always rubbed behind your ears because you said it made you feel pretty. He liked that. Liked that you still cared about little things like that even after everything. "Been too long, babygirl," he murmurs against your lips, one hand sliding up your back, fingers tangling in the straps of your top. The village sounds fade leaving just the thump of his heart and the warmth of your breath mingling with his.

You kiss him first; soft at the start, testing, like you're remembering too. But he deepens it quick, tongue slipping past your lips with a hunger he can't shake. His hands roam up your sides, making you arch against him with a gasp.