Let Me Help
Relationship: Moana & Maui
Summary: Strong as she is, even Moana cannot forget the time her best friend looked her in the eyes and told her that she was not enough.
There are gonna be two parts to this: one from Maui’s point of view, and another from Moana’s. Just, y’know, for extra feels.
A quick headcanon that I’ve shoved into this fic: Mini-Moana’s linked to Moana, as a literal representation of her. Which comes in super handy when Moana’s having a nightmare, because Mini-Moana can just poke Maui until he wakes up like “hey, Moana’s having a Bad Time™, might wanna help her”
Also, cookies to anyone who gets the fandom reference in the title.
When Maui jolts awake, there are clouds blanketing the sky. Readjusting to the lack of light is a process of several minutes, of rubbing eyes and yawning and wondering what, exactly, woke him at such a late hour. There is no one around him, not in his fale, so Maui’s laying back down to go to sleep when his shoulder itches. Tentatively, too. Like the movement is unsure.
“What is it,” Maui slurs, shifting himself more comfortably on the ground. If it’s another kite malfunction he’s going right back to snoring.
Then the itch happens again, but this time not on his shoulder. Right over his heart.
It takes a couple seconds for Maui’s sleep-addled brain to process the movement, but when he does, he springs to his feet. There’s only one reason his little tattoos would be waking him so late at night. “Moana?” he asks the air in general.
On his chest, Mini-Moana nods, rubs her arms uncomfortably. Maui pauses only to grab his hook - it’s gotta be a nightmare, going by Mini-Moana’s expression, but he can never be too prepared - and pushes out from his fale. He kinda stumbles a bit as he goes, weariness still clogging his reflexes.