It was the little things that made everyone admire Aang. His pure unwavering dedication to the bending arts even when he just wanted to goof around. The way he didn't just wish everyone would get along but somehow knew they all would eventually. His innocence mixed with the wisdom of a thousand lifetimes. His unfailing hope in the face of despair. He was only a child, but sometimes he seemed more mature than the rest of them put together.

But for Zuko, it was the way Aang's fingers interlocked with his when they practiced the Dancing Dragon. The way the sweat would collect on his forehead while they trained. How he continued to call him "Sifu Hotman" (though Zuko would forever insist he hated that). The cute way his brow would furrow when something annoyed or upset him; the fact that he did get upset now and then but could still forgive Zuko's idiotic and hurtful comments.

And most of all, it was how soft and eager Aang's lips felt against Zuko's own, how perfectly he seemed to fit in his arms, the deep and even sound of his breathing and the utter calm and serenity on his face while he slept.

Zuko smiled, pressing a light kiss to Aang's forehead. You've always given me hope even when I didn't know the real reason I should feel that way, he thought. But that was just one more little thing he loved about Aang.