Disclaimer: Avatar: the Last Airbender is not mine, for I am neither Mike nor Bryan.

Author's Notes: Smellershot! XD I've never tried a Smellershot before and I'm not sure if I've quite got the hang of the characters yet, but I'm giving it a go nonetheless. This is just a short little drabbly thing that's sort of sweet. Besides, there's such a lack of Smellershot on this site I might as well contribute when I can.

This is for all the Smellershot followers (Smellershotites? Smellershotians?) out there, because there's just a little bit of Smellershot in all of us. :)

Review!

Alisa

The woman behind the counter had a wide smile to go with her wide body. She stared down her crooked nose at the three children in front of her.

"What can I do for you three handsome young men?" she crowed, displaying her white teeth with an easy, practiced smile.

The oldest one—or at least, he was the most assertive—stepped forward and said, "We'd like a room." A piece of grass hung from between his lips and the woman couldn't help but wonder how it stayed there—she missed the flash of annoyance that flitted across the smallest one's face.

"One room it is," she sang in that addressing-the-customer voice, and then added sharply, "That will be four bronze pieces."

The one with the grass withdrew a small handful of coins and deposited the four bronze pieces on the counter in front of him. The woman's easy smile slid back into place.

Tucking the money in a pocket, she stepped from behind the counter and said, "Follow me, gentlemen." She didn't spot the flash of a dagger or the warning touch of a hand as she led the three down a hallway, humming all the while.

She stopped outside a door and threw it open, then turned to her customers with a breezy smile. "Here we are! Breakfast is at eight, lunch at one, and supper at six. The front door will be locked at nine, so be in by then. And may I have names to go with those cheery faces?"

The one with grass in his mouth shared a cautious look with the boy in a hat and then the small one, who shrugged.

"I'm Jet," he said, grass in his mouth twitching, and then pointed a finger to the boy in the hat. "That's Longshot, and that's Smellerbee."

The boy in the hat—Longshot—nodded at the woman in acknowledgement, and the one called Smellerbee glared.

"Jet, Longshot, and Smellerbee," the woman repeated easily. "Those are interesting names for young men."

Smellerbee twitched a hand. "And a girl," she added harshly.

The woman adopted a look of surprise. "You have a girl traveling with you?"

"I'm the girl!"

With a huff, Smellerbee took off out of the room and stomped down the hall. She only got as far as ten paces before she felt a hand curl around her shoulder. Smellerbee spun on the spot and nearly ran into Longshot.

Folding her arms across her chest plate, Smellerbee proclaimed, "I'm sick of it, Longshot!"

He fixed her with a look and she lowered her gaze with a sigh.

"It shouldn't matter, I know. I know who I am and my friends know who I am and that's all that matters."

Longshot nodded solemnly.

"But sometimes I get so sick of it, Longshot!" she cried. "Sometimes I want people to realize I'm a girl!"

Leaning in as if he had known this moment was coming all along, Longshot pressed his lips to Smellerbee's cheek. The message wasn't hard to understand:

Don't worry—I know that you're a girl.

FIN.