This is absolutely, positively NOT romance. It's just that Mako and Jinora are my favorite characters, and there were no stories that I could find with the two of them, so I figured I'd write one. I own nothing.

"The most difficult part was watching my daughter traipse around with a firebending street rat like you!"

Mako breathed out deeply, and flames shot out of his nostrils, catching a strand of the oldest girl's - what was her name again? Jonora or something - hair; he wrinkled his nose in disgust at the smell of burnt hair.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"It's fine," she said serenly, blowing the tiny amount of smoke away with a wave of her hand. "Keep meditating."

"Right, right..."

The seven of them were all sitting cross-legged in the pavilion, Tenzin across from them. Asami seemed slightly uneasy with the whole thing, judging by the way she kept opening one eyes to peek at them all; Korra was annoyed, if the completely un-serene scowl on her face was anything to go by; Bolin kept fidgeting, and Mako knew it was because this was so abnormal for him, the sitting still and silent for an hour. All three of the airbending children were completely still.

Mako himself felt the slightest bit awkward, because while he did meditate every morning, he usually did it alone on the roof before the sun had even risen.

He closed his eyes, ears, and mouth, and slowly the noises of the outside world faded. His mind wandered, and he relaxed, breathing deep and slow.

Usually he just let his mind wander where it would, or else stopped thinking entirely if that happened, but now he was careful to keep his thoughts from straying back to two nights ago, lest he catch the child's whole head on fire next time.

"Watching my daughter traipse around with a firebending street rat like you!"

Mako shook his head for the umpteenth time during his pai sho game with the oldest girl - whose name, it turned out, was actually Jinora - and slid a tile forward.

"Are you okay?" she asked, looking at him with a slight frown as, almost absently, she placed a tile on the board and won the game.

"Yeah," he said, trying once more to shake off Mr. Sato's words like an annoying bug. "My brain was off somewhere. Wanna play again?"

"No, you're too easy to beat."

"Only when I'm not paying attention."

"So pay attention this time!"

"Traipse around with a firebending street rat like you!"

Mako melted a thin layer of snow off the ground, tore a handful of grass out of the earth, and began to shred each blade meticulously as he stared across Yue Bay to look at the Arena. The entire glass ceiling was gone now, and he could see tiny black strings that were cables that held the workers up during the day as they slowly worked on rebuilding the dome. His heart ached to look at it as he located the tower where he and Bolin had lived until a week ago. The window was closed - they never closed the window. Why had they closed it, he wondered. Maybe to keep snow from getting in.

"You really miss it, don't you?"

The voice startled him, but he didn't move from his position, leaning against the trunk of some ancient tree. Keeping his face towards the Arena, he glanced out of the corner of his eyes towards the voice and realized that Jinora was barefoot.

"You should be in bed," he said instead of answering. She sat down next to him, shrugging, wearing a thin jacket over her nightgown. She was careful to place her feet on the edge of her dress to keep them out of the snow.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked. She was shivering. He shrugged.

"I'm a firebender."

"That doesn't mean you're not cold."

"I adapt."

"And that doesn't mean you're not cold, either." He had to smile.

"I'm not cold, Jinora."

"You're sure?"

"Positive." They sat in silence for a few moments; Mako continued shredding grass and dropping in a pile on top of the snow.

"You really do miss it, don't you?" Jinora asked, still sitting there and shivering. Feeling embarrassed that he hadn't thought of it before, Mako made a small flame with his finger and caught the pile of dead grass in between them on fire. It was a small blaze, but at his coaxing it produced a fair amount of heat.

"Better?"

"Mm hm."

He watched as the stars came out and the moon rose higher and the fire beside him died out. At some point Jinora bade him goodnight, rose, and left him alone, and let the silence envelop him.

When he awoke several hours later, still in the snow, he was surprised to find that someone had draped a blanket over him. He thought at first it must be Pema, taking out her motherly tendencies on him, until he saw the tiny, bare footprints leading back to the house.

"Thanks," he whispered to the silence.

"A firebending street rat like you!"

"I'm not," he said out loud, leaning against the guardrail on the top of the tower, staring out over the ocean.

"Not what?"

He tensed, then relaxed as the voice registered. Jinora.

"Nothing."

"Sure it isn't."

She hadn't been sarcastic when he first arrived a week ago. She must have picked it up from him.

She walked up next to him and leaned against the rail, standing on the bottom rung in order to do so.

"I always liked the view from up here, too," she said conversationally. "You can see for miles." She turned around to sit on the railing, swinging her legs back and forth and looking like she might fall any second. "But I liked the view of Republic City better. With the bright lights from the arena shining out over the water like something from a story..."

"I do miss it, you know," Mako said in a low voice, gripping the rail with his hands. It was freezing. "Pro bending was my life. Without that..."

"What are you not?" she asked softly, looking at him out of the corner of her eyes. He sighed, his breath steaming up in the cold air.

"A street rat. I'm not a street rat anymore."

She sucked in her breath. "Who called you that?"

"Dozens of people I knew when I was kid... a few more recently."

"But you aren't."

"Wasn't. But maybe I am. I don't exactly live on the streets, but I guess I'm pretty much homeless again." He stared out over the water, his eyes and throat burning as he wondered what had possessed him to spill his heart to a ten-year-old.

Jinora was silent. Then, after a pair of heartbeats, she said softly, "I thought Air Temple Island was your home now."

He turned his head to the side to look at her; she was the picture of earnestness. The tiniest of smiles crept onto his face.

"Thank you."

She smiled back, and the memory of Hiroshi's voice fell silent.