Chapter Text
It’s terrible enough that the middle-aged woman behind the counter gives him a vile look that rattles his bones, but the hand that drags against the back of his sweater leaves a litany of curses to float through his brain because who the hell is that?
“There’s no way I could get you to tell me who those are for, huh?”
Zuko has a mouthful of curses but instead, he shoves the crumpled bill across the counter and snatches the black bag off of the metal dispenser. He’s only a few short yards away from his dormitory, where he can pretend this really isn’t happening—in fact, that it never happened at all.
But he turns around and she’s there, grinning. Damn her. Zuko does his best not to trail his eyes over her, but he can’t help it; Katara’s hair is pulled in a lazy ponytail behind her head instead of draping over her shoulders, and therefore, it doesn’t do much to shield him from the sight of her purple bra peeking out from beneath her cardigan.
“It’s none of your business,” Zuko half-growls and shoulders his way past her, blinking the images of her body out of his head with a weak attempt at chastising himself. He knows why he doesn’t bother with Katara, and it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that she’s a second year student and he’s in his last year of undergrad.
The door takes too long to close behind him and he sighs because he knows, sighs when he hears the click of her boots behind him. “Well, someone’s got an attitude,” as if it stops her from sidling up to him, as if Zuko really wants her to go away.
“Look, Katara,” he stops and turns, but the curiously accusatory look on her face speaks volumes. His face falls into a frown, but Katara only reaches for the hand tangled with the cheap plastic bag, pokes her fingers between his and squeezes.
“Whoever it is,” she says with a purposefully lean (because when his eyes drag down between the press of her cleavage, she smirks maliciously), “I’m sure they won’t miss one of them.”
Katara’s other hand circles around to flatten against his abdomen, and Zuko tosses all of his previous thoughts about staying away from her out of his head. He swallows the knot in his throat as he leans, too, and kisses her on the mouth.
She tastes candy-sweet and Zuko kisses her deeply with a tilt of his jaw to the side and the feeling of her tongue gliding over his lips. But she pulls away first, fingers flexing over his knuckles, tugging.
He’ll have to come up with an explanation for Sokka about that staying away from his sister thing (but really, it is almost penance for being sent on a condom run).