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She can see that he is angry, the line of his shoulders hard and his jaw tense. He had been acting funny since before they had left the reception at City Hall and he hadn’t said a single word to her on their journey back home.
“Help me with the buttons?” Katara asks, trying to cut through the heavy silence. Aang had been sitting on their bed with his back to her and hadn’t noticed when she had moved to stand in front of him, her hands gathering her hair over one shoulder.
He doesn’t say anything as his long fingers fiddle with the line of silk covered down her spine. She twists her hair, teeth worrying her lip as the silence stews.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
Her teeth catch her bottom lip again at his curt answer. She knows that he won’t be able to keep it bottled inside for much longer, not now that he knows she is waiting for him to speak.
“Are you angry with me? Have I done something to upset you?” Katara prompts as his hands stop their ministrations and rest on her hips.
“No.”
She nods once, glancing at him over her shoulder and noting his frown before stepping away. Slipping the dress from her shoulders, she steps out of it neatly as Aang sighs. The blue silk folds easily in her hands and she hears him sigh again before the bedsprings squeak as he lays back.
“I just… I’m just angry that you smile and nod and laugh when they talk to you like that.”
“Like what?” Katara asks as she pulls her nightdress out of the drawer and over her head.
“Like you’re only my wife,” Aang answers. “And for that I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry that you married me?” She smirks at him, trying to lighten to the moment and Aang groans.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I hate the way they talk to you, as if you’re only here to clean my clothes and cook my meals,” Aang explains. He sits up and begins to disrobe, pulling his sash from his shoulder and unclasping his tunic. “As if you don’t have your own identity. They ignore all the good you’ve done and everything you do for this city.”
“Aang, you don’t have to get so worked up about this,” Katara soothes as she sits next to him on the bed. “I don’t care what any of those old farts think about me.”
“I do,” Aang turns to look at her, his expression pained. “You’re… everything to me. My best friend, my confidant, my sifu, my… everything. I want them to know you’re more than just my wife. You’re the best healer in the city… in the world and you’ve implemented so many plans to help people-“
“Sweetie, it’s okay,” She runs her hands over his shoulders before gripping his face and kissing him. “I know that I’m more than your wife and I know that you don’t just see me as your wife. I don’t make a fuss about the way General Wong or Councillor Shu speaks to me at these stuffy events because I don’t care what they think about me.
“The only opinion that matters to me is yours. I don’t want you to ever apologise for marrying me, I knew what I was getting into when I said yes and I don’t regret it. I never will.”