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    Summary

    “I think we should do this again,” Zuko says, stuffing his hands in his pockets and turning red. “The next debate. We hook up, no strings, just sex.”

    Just sex bounces around in her brain. It is a bad idea, a prime example of a bad idea, but there is an undeniably appealing feeling in the thought of sleeping with Zuko again. Of seeing if yesterday was just a fluke. Of finding out if he is as good with his mouth as his hands.

    “There’ll be a lot of stipulations,” Katara says, before she can finish thinking it through, “like, a lot. Get out a pen.”

    Zuko makes a face, then shakes his head, just a little. “I’ll make a Word document.”

    “Google. Google is better. Google doesn’t try to autocorrect my last name from Imaq to Iraq,” Katara says, and puts her headphones over her ears.

    --

    OR; Zuko and Katara as debate team rivals with benefits

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