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/// the first time ///
Oh, God, what if they make us do ice-breakers?
Another wave of dread rolled through her as she hurriedly pushed her way into the coffee shop. Not from nerves- this was far from her first, first day of school. But more than anything, she just dreaded the crushing awkwardness of introductions, and spouting out the same "fun fact" about her brother meeting the Dali Lama. It wasn't even technically a fact about her, let alone a "fun" one, but it was the best she had. And then after class, she had the joy of reprimanding an undergraduate lab assistant so her advisor didn't have to. Not only had they improperly closed the rats' cage, but a pair of rats then proceeded to give birth inside a computer speaker. She took a deep breath, pleasantly surprised by the sharp scent of coffee and cardamom. Two more years. Two more years.
But at least she had this to look forward to. The brand new coffee & tea shop, the Jasmine Dragon, had opened on the corner of campus the week before, and she had been dying to cast her judgment on the cold brew her fellow students had been raving about. The interior of the small shop was tastefully decorated, with a thick dark wood counter curving an arc across the middle of the room and long wooden tables pushing up against sage green benches. Oh, but that isn't what really snagged her attention. The entire right side of the counter was comprised of a glass case filled with pastries. Oh God, she could smell them- big, fat blueberry muffins, almond-stuffed croissants, apple-cider donuts- her stomach gave a far-too-audible growl. Like a beacon, they lured her to the counter, her mind instantly at war- coffee was in the budget, not-...is that a cheese danish?
"Uh, excuse me-?"
Her head snapped up immediately, and she quickly met the gaze of the barista at the counter. Oh, and does she wish she hadn't.
"I said, what can I get for you today?"
The man staring back at her was stupidly gorgeous. Like, insultingly so. He was slim and angular, all porcelain skin and midnight hair. He wore a tightfitting black t-shirt, the sage green apron tied haphazardly along one shoulder. She briefly saw a flash of tight, pink skin along his left eye, but it quickly vanished beneath the thick wave of his hair.
"Hi! Sorry," She sputtered, inwardly cursing at the blush she felt rise along her cheeks, "A double chocolate biscotti and a large cold-brew with five pumps of vanilla, please."
He froze.
"Five pumps of vanilla, you said?"
She nodded.
He let out a not-so-subtle groan, and began punching buttons on the cash register.
Annoyance instantly began to itch beneath her skin. What the hell is wrong with this guy? Maybe it was the stress of all of the deadlines pressing down on her sanity, but she realized she did not have an ounce of patience for this fucking hipster's unwanted opinion.
"Is there a problem?" She spat.
"Only if you'd like to actually taste the coffee."
"I'm sorry, but drinking black coffee doesn't make you inherently superior-"
"Nephew?" A deep, gravelly voice interjected.
A rounded, graying man appeared at the barista's shoulder. He shot him a severe look before turning to her with a grin.
With a sigh, his supposed nephew plastered a complacent smile onto his stupid, handsome face. "No problem at all. Your total will be 7.56."
With a pointed glare, she gave him her card. She tried to ignore him, but she couldn't keep from staring at the pale veins that wrapped about his well-muscled arms. Seriously, fuck this guy. Well not fuck this guy, I mean-
He reached to return her card, but his uncle gave him a sharp nudge.
With a heaving sigh, he flicked his gaze to hers. "Have a beau-tea-ful day." He droned.
Somehow, that made it a little better.
/// the second time ///
So if I can finish that application tonight, I can get to the lab before class tomorrow...
She jotted down a reminder in her Google calendar as she nudged her way into the Jasmine Dragon. Even if she abhorred the idea of running into the dickish barista, the cold brew had been good, and her next class happened to be in the building across street. He probably wouldn't even be there, anyway.
But there he was. Because the universe hates her.
Consciously ignoring his gaze, she lazily made her way to the pastry case. A completely new selection graced the shelves. Lemon-Poppyseed muffins, oatmeal cookies, coconut macaroons- how could she ever decide?
After a long battle with her will power, she finally turned her attention to the register.
He wore a grey-striped sweater beneath the green apron and a black beanie pushed his hair into his eyes, despite the fact it was literally 75 degrees outside. He was annoyingly better looking than she remembered. Damn it. And he looked terribly displeased to see her.
"What can I get for you?"
"A large cold brew with six pumps of caramel. Thank you so much." She narrowed her eyes, daring him.
He met her stare, lingering just long enough to make her blush.
"Now you're just doing it on purpose."
"Doing what on purpose?"
"Trying to induce a diabetic coma," He muttered, punching in the items, "You obviously don't like coffee. So you might as well just order something else."
She wanted to punch him right in his stupid, handsome face. But more than anything she wanted to laugh at the nerve of some random guy trying to tell her what to order. What the hell is his deal?
"I'm an overworked and underpaid grad student. I need the coffee." She deadpanned, slamming her card on the counter, "Besides, I like coffee just fine, thank you very much. I just happen to like caramel more. I wasn't aware that was a moral failing."
Using seemingly every ounce of his will power, he took her card without even so much as a huff.
When he returned her card, she decided that he needed to suffer, just a little. She didn't move, but rather gave him an expectant look and fluttered her eyelashes prettily.
He groaned, his pale amber eyes rolling into the back of his head.
"Have a beau-tea-ful day."
///the sixth time///
Somehow, they had developed their own strange routine. She would come in every Tuesday and Thursday and order the perfect cup of coffee -thank you very much- and he would glare at her and bask in his own sense of superiority. Not that she cared, because she definitely didn't.
But today when she approached the counter, she found him bent over a thick novel, a long, pale finger darting back and forth across a page.
"Busy?"
With a start he slammed the book, including his own finger, and bit out a quiet shit.
"Sorry," He stammered, and shifted the book off to the side.
"Must be a good book." She said, and placed her order.
"I wish" He muttered, pushing up the sleeves of his sweater.
"Then why are you reading it?" Wait, why is she actually trying to make conversation with this guy? Damn it.
He slid her card into the slot, and went to bag her croissant. "You're not the only overworked and underpaid grad student around."
She forced herself to ignore the fact that he had recalled her words from a few weeks ago. He was a grad student? He may still be a dick, but at least she could understand his baseline state of annoyance a little more. Curiosity getting the better of her, she leaned just a tad over the counter, trying to make out the book he had been pouring through. She could almost make it out-
"Les Miserables," He said, spinning the spine in her direction. Well, that's certainly not what she expected.
"What program are you in?" Why did she care, why did she care-
"English." He said, and then hesitated for a brief moment. "You?"
"Neuroscience."
"Ah," He said, nodding. And then he seemed completely unsure of what to do or say next. She could hardly blame him- they had gone from actively antagonizing one another to this odd, stilted small talk in a matter of seconds.
He cleared his throat. "I'm Zuko, by the way." Why was he telling her his name?
"Katara."
This was wrong, somehow. It upset the natural order of things. And the fact that she could just make our the swirl of a black tattoo around his bicep did little to help things. So, she panicked.
"Have a beau-tea-ful day," She murmured, snatching her card and her muffin before nearly sprinting to the end of the counter.
///the eleventh time///
"I swear to God, Kat, if I have to see that bitch one more time-" Suki ground to a halt, here eyes flitting about the coffee shop. "Oh! Well this is nice."
Suki, in her jet black slacks and yellow blazer, stood out sharply from the other college students. Katara had nearly forgotten how different the School of Business is from the College of Arts and Sciences. Suki looked like an actual adult, and she looked like...well, like she had been wearing this sweatshirt for 3 days, which she definitely hadn't been. She hadn't even managed to put in her contacts, and instead wore her wide, wire-rimmed glasses. Not like she had much of a choice- her midterm paper was due in less than twelve hours. Fortunately for her, her best friend also had a poor work/life balance, and had agreed to hole up with her in the small shop for the rest of the day. But upon seeing Zuko standing at the counter once again, she couldn't help but wish she looked even a little more presentable. No, wait, why did she care? She didn't, she decided. She definitely didn't.
"Ooh, look at those!" Suki said, eyeing the pastry case. She slid her eyes to the counter, and froze.
"Oh! You." She said, tilting her head to the side, "Ty Lee's friend?"
Zuko appeared frozen for a moment as well, a light pink dusting his fair skin. "Yeah, Zuko. Uh..." He squinted his eyes, "Suki, right?"
Suki nodded, and turned to Katara, "He was at that mixer I told you about a couple of weeks ago."
Suki smiled, the look on her face odd. Like there was some joke Katara was missing. "What the hell are you doing working here? Aren't you-"
"Uncle offered me the job," He interrupted sharply, his eyes widening ever so slightly. He shot her a strange look as well. What the hell was going on here? It was so not subtle.
"Uh, right." She said, giving him a curt nod, "Anyway, what do you recommend?"
To Zuko's probable delight, Suki was an avid black coffee drinker, and was eager to hear about their variety of single-origin arabica. After she ordered, Katara stepped up closer to the counter.
His eyes flicked to hers, holding her gaze for a moment. The smallest and stupidest of smirks ticked at the corner of his mouth.
"How would you like to ruin your coffee today, Katara?"
She narrowed her eyes, but it was a game at this point. "A caramel crunch frape with extra oat milk and extra whip, please." She flashed him a smile.
"So a milkshake," He said, "You'd like a milkshake."
"I'd like what I ordered, thank you so much, Zuko."
He gave a small huff and rolled his eyes, but a small dimple dotted his cheek. He began punching in the order, then paused. "We have those pistachio biscotti again, by the way." He kept his gaze down, focused on POS system.
They had first served the biscotti a few weeks ago, and she had been obsessed with them. She had bought one three days in a row. He had remembered?
"Oh," She said, trying to figure out how to weave between playful barbs and normal-people conversation, "Thanks. One of those too, then."
He nodded, and Suki insisted on paying for the both of them. She decided to give him a break from the have a beau-tea-ful day mantra, even if she missed it. Just a little.
Suki gave him another odd look as they made their way towards a table in the corner.
"So, you guys have a weird vibe."
"What?!" Katara shrieked, far too loudly. She lowered her voice "What are you talking about?"
"You guys," She said, subtly pointing back and forth between her and the counter, "Some weird like, hate-fucking vibes."
Katara felt the blood began to rise along her cheeks, "You are completely insane. I have no idea what you're talking about." Why was her heart beating so loud? She opened up her textbook, "Besides, you two were the ones being weird! What was that all about?"
Suki opened her laptop, and leaned back against the booth, crossing her arms, "I'm not sure. I just can't figure out why he's working here."
"He said he's a poor grad student, so," Katara shrugged. So he worked in a coffee shop. So what?
Except that Suki gave a very undignified snort.
"Is that what he told you?" Suki leaned over the table, her voice quiet, "That's Zuko Sozin. His dad is the CEO of that big-ass shipping company on the news a few weeks back. They're multimillionaires, easily. His sister's is in the business school, too." She raised her brows, "And she...well, she is a lot."
No way. That Zuko? The coffee-elitist asshole who had the same 5 black sweaters on an endless rotation and was constantly huffing through French literature? But why would he work in a coffee shop if his family was filthy rich?
"That is weird," She admitted.
Suki drummed her nails on the wooden table. "I'll do some digging."
And for not the first, and certainly not the last time, she thanked God for Suki. Because she couldn't care less why Zuko Sozin might be working his way through grad school. But if Suki wanted to find out, well, who was she to get in her way?
Determined not to think about it for another second, she opened the white parchment bag to find an extra pistachio biscotti tucked inside.
/// The sixteenth time///
She wanted to scream, cry, and lay on the floor, all at the same time. The exam had been awful, borderline inhumane. All she wanted was to crawl into her bed with a bottle of chardonnay. Rubbing her temples, she began to make her way from the towering Biology building to her shabby apartment. It was the first nice day they'd had in weeks, and she decided to cut through the quad. It was technically during class time, so the campus was mostly quiet, with only a few stragglers darting back and forth across the green field. A small fountain with a sun dial in the center sat in the middle of the quad, flanked on either side by a pair of benches. She paused, and ran her fingers through the bubbling water. The slow trickling and churning was quite relaxing, she realized. She deserved to take a break for a bit. She claimed one of the benches, propped her backpack up against one arm, and stretched out on her side along the length of the bench. She let her eyes drift closed, focusing on the gentle sound of moving water and the faint twittering of birds along the hedges.
"Katara?"
Her eyes snapped open, only to meet the stare of someone sprawled out on the bench opposite her. Golden eyes, set in pale skin and framed by a shock of black hair.
"Zuko?"
He was stretched out on his own bench as well, clad in a dark hoodie and black pants. A ridiculously thick book lay open against his chest.
They both sat up awkwardly. What exactly is the etiquette, here?
"Uh...bad day?" He asked. Oh God, she must look worse than she felt.
"More like horrible," She groaned, her mind flashing back to the essay portion, "Tortuous, you could say. That exam was just...disrespectful."
She heard a gentle rasping sound, and she was fairly sure it was a laugh.
"I'm sorry," he offered.
She shrugged, and wrapped her arms around her knees. "Done with Hugo for now?" She asked, nodding to the book he'd set aside.
"Yes, thank God." He said, "Just reading for... fun, this time."
"So what type of book do you read for fun, then?" Why had she asked that? She felt heat rise along her neck.
He turned the cover toward her. "Brothers Karamazov."
That checks out.
"Ah, yes," She said, "Because nothing says fun like Dostoyevsky."
"What can I say? The Russians really know how to party."
She bit out a small giggle. "I'll have to take your word on that."
He actually smiled, just a little, that idiotic dimple curving in alongside his mouth. How was it possible to be annoying and adorable at the same time? Oh, fuck it. She picked up her backpack, skirted around the fountain and plopped down on the other end of his bench.
"So."
He sat up a bit straighter and tilted his head. "So?"
Suki had made good on her promise to ask around about why a Sozin would be slaving away at a part-time job to pay for grad school. She'd found out there'd been some sort of rift between Zuko and his father, and now Zuko was cut off. Completely. She'd never had much to begin with, so it wasn't too difficult to make the transition to frugal student living. But to go from living in penthouses and sipping champagne (or whatever it is rich people do) to actually working for a living, all while being a full-time student? Well, she didn't exactly feel bad for the guy, but it couldn't have been easy.
"I...uh, heard what happened with you and your dad," She said unsure of what exactly to say. Sorry your rich dad stopped giving you money? "That he...cut you off. That's shitty," She tried.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, and she caught another glimpse of the thick, pink scar that ran along the outside of one eye. "Gee, thanks."
Wrong thing to say, apparently. "I mean, I just heard you two...had a disagreement or something. Can't you just...I don't know, apologize?"
His face darkened, and now she definitely knew she'd said the wrong thing.
"I have no desire to apologize." He said, fixating on the fountain in front of them. "And he...he didn't cut me off. I cut myself off."
She blinked slowly. He cut himself off? He just...walked away from all of that money? Thinking of the pitiful sum in her own bank account, it seemed incomprehensible.
This is so not my business, she forcefully reminded herself. So she bit her tongue, and let the silence settle in awkwardly around them as she fixed her gaze on the fountain as well. Much to her surprise, she heard him let out another miniscule laugh.
"Thanks."
Confused, she turned to him with a tilt of her head, "For what?"
"Everyone always wants to...pry. Or tell me I'm being an idiot. Thanks for, you know...not."
She gave him a sharp nod and tried to steer the conversation into safer, much less sincere, waters.
"So does that mean you'll stop giving me shit about my coffee orders?"
A smile pulled up one side of his mouth, and he flicked his eyes to hers, "I'm afraid I can't do that."
She was trying to give the guy an olive branch, but now he really wants to go back to his elitist nonsense? She felt a spark alight beneath her skin.
"Because it would betray your steadfast devotion to coffee purity? How could I ever suggest such a thing?" She spat.
But he only laughed again, much harder this time, and the rough sound of it nearly undid her.
"No," He said, "Because its so much fun."
She gulped. What? Just as she was about to ask what exactly he meant by that, his phone began to buzz. He quickly snatched it to look at the screen, and a pained look came over his face.
"I've got to go," He said, quickly standing and snagging his book, "I'll see you around, Katara."
As she watched him trek across the green, she wondered if she was the stupidest person alive.
///the seventeenth time///
There was a line in the Jasmine Dragon. Usually she wouldn't mind, but she happened to be running behind today. But in the recurring debate of being on time versus getting caffeine into her system, caffeine wins out every time. Zuko seemed to be handling the influx of customers without too much trouble. Damn it, he looked good. He wore a deep burgundy sweater that clung to his frame, the sage green apron folded over and tied low around his hips. Damn it. She needed the line to move faster so she could force herself to stop ogling him. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about their last run-in. Because it's so much fun. Realistically, there are two interpretations of that statement, she reasoned. One, he's just a sadistic asshat. Or two, he was flirting with her. She thought of the extra biscotti, the smirks, that stupid dimple that only seemed to pop up when she ordered. Oh, God. This was so not her strong suit. What was she supposed to say to him now? Too soon, there was only one customer in front of her. The woman ordered, and began to pat around the pockets of her joggers.
Her shoulders sagged. "Well, fuck."
Zuko, socially aware as always, simply asked "What?"
"I've got it," Katara said, stepping forward. Everyone has forgotten their wallet one time or another, and the feeling sucks. Paying for one extra cup of coffee wouldn't break her. Besides, she was thankful for anything that would provide some kind of buffer.
The woman turned to her, her pale eyes wide beneath her black fringe, "No, you don't have to-"
"Don't worry about it, seriously, I've got it."
The woman gave her a small smile, but her eyes never quite found Katara's. "Thanks. I owe you one."
Zuko poured her coffee, and set it carefully on the edge of the counter directly in front of the woman.
"Here's your coffee." He said. Well, duh, Katara thought. But she watched as the woman stepped up to the counter, and carefully ran her hand along the edge until she came into contact with the cup. Oh my God, she's blind, Katara realized. But she had no cane, no service animal. How was she ...? She nodded in Katara's general direction, and vanished into the crowd.
Her curiosity lingered as she turned to Zuko.
"How do you know Toph?" He asked.
She shrugged, "I don't."
"Then why..?"
She raised a brow, "She forgot her card, we've all been there." For normal, ordinary humans, that would have been the end of the conversation. But his gaze lingered, like that wasn't a sufficient reason. The words tumbled from her lips, like he'd pulled them from her,"Once when I was a kid, we...we couldn't pay for our groceries." She couldn't bring herself to say that their card had been declined. "Everyone just watched us as we put everything back. It...sucked. No one deserves that." She hadn't told many people about that, why was she telling him of all people? But she knew about the weirdness going on with his dad, so it's only fair she trade a bit of information about herself, she decided. Fair is fair.
He blinked a few times, and the most peculiar look came over his face. He looked at her like...like she was magic. Confusing but delightful. It's the only way she could describe it. It made a shiver run down the length of her spine.
He cleared his throat finally, breaking his stare, "What will it be today?" He asked, his voice strange.
"Medium mocha, extra mocha-y."
His lips twitched as he entered in her order. "Right."
She handed him her card, but he waved it away.
"It's on me."
She rolled her eyes, "Come on, just let me-"
He leveled his gaze at her, craning his neck down to meet her eyeline. "Not a chance." She stopped breathing. "You did something nice for someone else," He said, his voice a low rasp, "So let me do this for you." A ghost of a smile pulled at one corner of his lips, "Consider it my good deed for the day."
Oh, that stupid voice. He was trying to kill her.
She managed to squeak out a thanks before scurrying away with her heart in her throat.
///the twenty-first time///
It turns out she had raved to her advisor about the Jasmine Dragon's pastries one too many times. They had lab meeting in an hour, and Dr. Hama had come up with the wonderful idea of buying pastries for all of the lab assistants as an end-of-semester thank you. Naturally, Katara was designated to pick up their order. She had technically volunteered, but it had nothing to do with a certain barista. But of course it did. And maybe that was...okay?
Much to her surprise (and disappointment, she'll admit), Zuko was not at the counter when she walked into the shop. Instead, the older man, the owner and Zuko's uncle, she recalled, stood in his place. He greeted her with a wide smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges.
"Good morning, miss. What can I get for you on this lovely day?" He raised his arms and gestured to the pale sunlight filtering in through the wide glass windows. She half expected birds to land on his outstretched fingers.
She gave him a smile, "I'm going to need..." She glanced to the pastry case, and it was shockingly...empty. Of course. Why wouldn't it be?
Her face fell. "Well, I was going to get a few pastries, but I guess you're out."
"Oh, never fear!" He said with a chuckle, "My nephew should be bringing more out any moment."
As if on cue, the double doors that led to the kitchen swung open. Zuko pushed them open with his back, his hands full with a large sheet tray littered in fresh scones. Cranberry-orange, lemon, blueberry- she took an embarrassingly loud sniff, her mouth already beginning to water. She met his gaze, and he gave her a stupidly crooked smile. Only then did she notice that his hair had an odd gray tint. And as she looked down, she found that his sleeves had been pushed up above his elbows, and the length of his forearms were dusted in flour. Stripes of glaze ran across the back of one hand.
She felt herself staring. She's not sure if she cared.
"Did you...make...those?"
A pale pink pooled along his cheekbones as he began to stack the scones in the display case. "If I said yes?"
She wasn't quite sure. She felt as if she were in the presence of a saint, but she also had the distinct urge to tackle him across the counter. She opened her mouth to say something, and...nothing. She gaped like a fish. Thankfully, his uncle came to the rescue.
"Yes, my nephew makes all of our pastries. He has quite the talent, I think." He slid Zuko a meaningful look, "How many would you like?"
"Uh," She shook her head slightly, forcing herself to get a grip, "Eight, please. An assortment."
He nodded, and she began to dig around in her wallet for her debit card.
"I've got it." Said a female voice behind her.
She turned to find the woman she had helped before. Toph, Zuko had called her. She walked up to the counter, and held out a credit card between two fingers. The card was thick and matte and black.
"Oh- I appreciate the offer, but I'm getting a bunch of stuff for a meeting-"
But Toph simply cleared her throat and wiggled the card in the owner's direction.
He gave Katara a small smile, and ran Toph's card.
"Thank you," She said, hoping her tone conveyed the sincerity she felt, "That's very generous."
But Toph just shrugged. "Not my money. Make sure you pocket the reimbursement." She gave her a wink, and walked towards the couch at the back of the shop.
She needed to say something to Zuko, she realized. She kind of left him hanging and she should say something- compliment his baking prowess or make a snide remark, something. But as she turned to find him, she saw him disappear through the kitchen doors, a flour handprint perfectly smeared across one ass cheek.
///the twenty-fourth time///
And just like that, she had one more semester under her belt. She had managed to finish her final term paper, and now she was finally free to enjoy her winter break. Well, as free as she got these days. It was far too expensive to fly home for only a week or two, so she was stuck finishing up some data analysis over the holidays. Not exactly the most festive of activities, but after the chaotic semester she'd had, the idea of sitting in the lab by herself, a warm mug of tea in one hand and music pounding through her headphones while she poured through data sounded kind of...peaceful. However, the end of the semester also means that everything around campus just sort of...shuts down. All of the dining halls, all of the on-campus convenient stores, all of the best late-night take out. And much to her chagrin, even the Jasmine Dragon was closing up shop for the next 10 days. Or so warned a flyer posted on the outside of the window. She took a deep breath. She had promised herself she would do something about the whole Zuko situation. He was clearly into her, but what exactly one does with that information is...unclear. She pushed her way into the shop. Although the shop would be closed for the actual holidays, the whole shop had been decorated in silver and white decorations. Dazzling paper snowflakes the size of her hand were hung from the ceiling, sending sprays of glitter down on unsuspecting customers. Did Zuko make those, she wondered? She approached the counter, and was utterly delighted to find Zuko at the counter, impossibly, wearing a sage green Santa hat. Could she sneak a picture? Probably not. That'd be weird, right?
He seemed too aware of her rapt attention to the garment, and greeted her with a roll of his eyes.
"Please, I don't want to hear it."
She giggled, she couldn't help herself. "Oh, but you look adorable." She said, and instantly regretted it. Too much, too much.
But he gave her a smirk, which seemed to make up for it.
"You look adorable yourself."
He seemed to instantly regret it as well, and she watched as red began to color the tips of his ears.
He cleared his throat finally, straightening his Santa hat with one hand, "What can I get you?"
Oh God, she hadn't even decided yet. She stepped to the side, eyeballing the new additions to the pastry case.
"Any recommendations from the chef?" She asked.
"Well," He drawled, sliding over behind the case, "I made some pecan sticky buns this morning,"
She had never heard a more erotic sentence. But her eyes flicked across the case, and there were no sticky buns to be found.
"They're not quite ready for the public yet." He said, "The recipe needs a few tweaks. Actually..."
And then he was silent.
She looked up at him expectantly, and found him toying with the strap of his apron, his face uncertain. "I was actually going to try out a few new recipes tomorrow while the shop is closed. But I...I could use a test taster. If you're interested, that is."
She's pretty sure her stomach landed somewhere near her feet. She felt her mouth open again, struggling to find purchase and...nothing.
"I..." She gulped. She needed clarity. "Like as a date type of thing?" She wasn't quite sure how she had managed to force the words out.
He nodded, "That was the idea." Apparently her discomfort gave him a boost of confidence.
"I'll even let you drink straight from the caramel syrup bottle if you want." He added with a smirk.
She fought to keep the grin from spreading across her face, and instead attempted to feign a cool, casual type of energy. She failed completely. Screw it. She was tired of pretending that this spark between the two of them was simple annoyance. It had somehow managed to shift into this warm, frenetic thing, and she owed it to herself to see where it led.
"I'd like that."
///the ? time ///
The next semester found them back in the Jasmine Dragon, both of them struggling to not drown beneath the crushing weight of midterms. They sat on the plush green couch in the far back of the shop, Katara furiously scrolling through Google Scholar while Zuko lay his head in her lap, a copy of Jane Eyre held above his head. She idly toyed with the silken strands of his hair, and his dangling hand traced idle patterns on her ankle.
Absent-mindedly, she reached for her latte and took a massive swig, only to be met with- well, not with a latte. She wasn't quite sure what it was, only that she had snagged Zuko's drink by mistake.
"Uh, I'm sorry, what the hell is this?"
He flicked his eyes to the cup in her hand, "My tea?"
She took another tentative sip. "No, it's not. This is watered-down honey. You can't even tell it's tea!"
He rolled his eyes, "Who cares. It's just hot leaf juice."
And back and forth they went.
Iroh smiled to himself as he carefully wiped down the espresso machine.
The irony appeared to be completely lost on the both of them.