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The bartender Katara stalks towards is maybe a few years her senior if she’s being generous. And in all actuality, he is in his rights to question the way she tosses a few silver pieces onto the bar without so much as a greeting. And if she was in a better mood she might feel bad about the way he nervously swallow his words at the ice of her stare.
But instead, she gestures to a bottle of fire whiskey that she vaguely recognizes from the cabinets at Zuko’s house and rubs her knuckle against her temple to attempt to ease her headache. She’s half tempted to bend the fire whiskey herself to attempt to heal the throb of her skull, but knows that the wound isn’t the kind that she can attempt to heal herself, let alone by revealing being a bender to the enemy. The silver earns her more of a goblet than a shot, not that she’s complaining and she waves him off when she sees him rummaging from copper pieces for her change.
“Keep it.” She can’t help her own nature. “I’m sorry.” She walks away before the words make her nauseous, feeling as though she’d quite rather stab herself in the neck with an ice pick than apologize to anyone right now. She doesn’t spare even a glance toward the balcony that she had just been on and makes her way back to the mezzanine, drink clutched in a white knuckled grip.
The lights are already dimming when she flops herself down onto her seat, without care or grace. She can feel eyes on her but she keeps her ahead, down to the stage where she is sure the next minutes of her life are sure to be hell.
She hears Sokka’s terrible attempt at a whisper when he asks Aang if he managed to get another box of popcorn for the second act. Aang’s response is more acceptable for the venue, but she can hear his mumbled apology that he got distracted and lost track of time. She wants to scoff. She wants to scream .
While Sokka whines loud enough to earn a hushed admonishing from below, she can hear the wood behind her shift as Suki leans over Sokka to where Aang is still standing. Katara wishes she could narrow her vision even more so that she didn’t even have to see him in her peripherals. “Did you hurt your hand?” Suki’s voice is comforting, even if Katara can hear the confusion in it. An hour ago, Katara would’ve been concerned for her friend, jumping at the bits to heal him with her gift and ensure he was feeling okay.
The Katara of the present, however, resists the childish urge to smirk at the knowledge that she left him with an ice burn.
Good.
Aang doesn’t answer since the actors have returned to the stage and for that, Katara is oddly grateful. She’s sure that anything he would have said in that moment would have set her off all over again. Time sort of blurs for a while after that, scene after scene of exaggerated dialogue and cheesy special effects. She almost finds amusement every time Zuko let’s out a huff of frustration or a groan of embarrassment at the portrayal being made by the people he’s trying to end the war for, but she can’t shake off her bad mood enough. She’s had about half of her glass of whiskey, grimacing each time she forces herself to take long swigs, assuming that if alcohol works as a vice for others, maybe it could give her some sort of relief. But really all it does is slosh around heavy in her stomach.
She goes to take another sip when warm fingers carefully disarm her of it. Katara is almost mad at Zuko for taking her drink until she realizes that the character of Zuko has shoved his Uncle onto the dirt and called him horrible names before declaring, loudly, that it is time for him to become like a komodo-hen and spread his wings to leave him behind in the earth kingdom.
She wants to ask about it, because she knows Zuko even at his worse would never have physically turned on his Uncle in such a way, but she can’t bring herself to. The thought of talking to him about what’s plaguing him though makes her feel nauseous. Not because it’s him, but rather because she feels like if she was able to take a step back from worrying about her friends for once she might never have ended up in this position, trying to drown out her frustrations by attempting to find the bottom of a glass.
He offers the whiskey back to her, his good eye never leaving the stage, but she makes a small hum of dissent and he shrugs, placing it on the floor between them. She disassociates again, trying to recount the years of travel together and trying to piece together how far away they are from the end of this nightmarish play when a warm presence caresses her leg.
If Katara were a firebender, she’s sure that every lit flame on all of Ember Island would shoot skyward from the blinding rage she feels. It is the ultimate slap in her face for the evening–another person that she cares about, that she considers to be one of her closest friends in all the world, taking advantage of a situation she didn’t want to find herself in. She turns to glare at Zuko, an outburst hardly befitting of the theater on the tip of her tongue, but there is that gentle gaze of liquid amber boring into her that stops her. She realizes then that his hand is just barely brushing the top of her knee, which she becomes acutely aware has stopped bouncing nervously for the first time since she sat down.
His head tilts a little, gesturing to it and then back to her. Katara let’s out a shaky breath, not needing the filled lungs to shout like she had thought, and she watches as a perfect eyebrow arches at her curiously before furrowing just a little.
“Are you okay?” His whisper envelops her like a blanket and all Katara wants to do in that moment is collapse into him and cry. She bites back the burning of her eyes, prepared to bend the tears the away if necessary rather than give anyone the satisfaction of acting like the caricature of herself on the stage. So she thinks about lying, about shoving it down and putting on a brave face for him and the gaang, rather than let them see her moment of weakness.
But Zuko’s gaze has the same smoldering intensity that he has when he isn’t fighting. And she can practically hear him already, the calm understanding of a prince who had to learn what it was to have, then to lose, and then to finally take control of his own emotions in his exile.
“You’re not weak, Katara. You are entitled to feel the way you do without anyone telling you otherwise; yourself included.”
And suddenly imagining his words isn’t enough.
She desperately needs to hear him so she swallow her pride and shakes her head. His good eye widens in something akin to surprise and he opens his mouth to speak but is silenced by a gentle hand pressing on their shoulders. They twist to see Suki’s curious stare, her genuine concern enough to make Katara want to weep again.
“Katara?” She whispers so softly it reminds her of a cool breeze, a stark contrast to the heavy and formidable presence she carries as an Earth Kingdom civilian, as someone devoted to the immovable Kyoshi.
“Sorry, Suki. Just, uh, girl issues.” Zuko suddenly finds the ceiling incredibly interesting, judging by the way he almost snaps his own neck to look anywhere else. It makes a tired giggle bubble in Katara’s throat. Suki sees right through her, she knows by the way her head tilts a fraction to where she know Aang is seated next to Sokka. Katara nods and she is grateful for the spark of anger she sees across her friends face. She opens her mouth but Sokka barrels into her space with that manic look in his eyes, like he’s trying to figure out a mystery.
“You look awful.” Comes the astute observation. His eyes keep flickering back to the stage, not wanting to miss the ‘story’. “What’s up?” Again, Sokka’s definition of a whisper is enough to earn some annoyed throats clearing from below them—not that he notices. Suki elbows him in the ribs and whispers something about ‘girl issues’ when Sokka’s face twist into one of disgust and discomfort. He’s all too content to never hear about his sister’s womanly woes.
“You do look pale, Kat. Maybe Zuko could walk you back to the house?” Another reason Katara will do whatever Suki asks forever, she eliminates Katara having to ask him to accompany her.
“Yeah sure. I know where my mother used to keep some of her herbs.” His lie is quick and the blush on his face sells it for Sokka, who nods in agreement.
“It’s too bad you have to miss the rest of this.” Toph, who has been living for this nightmare of a production, has a devilish smirk on her face laughs a little as though she senses Zuko’s eyes rolling so far in his head they see the back of his skull.
“We’ll manage.” He snaps, standing up and offering his arm to Katara. Katara, who grabs it immediately and doesn’t spare the other side of the box a glance, knowing that a wide pair of eyes are watching her intently. They shuffle out of the theater and Zuko’s hand rests on her lower back as he guides them to the exit, clearly having mapped out his escape to the footstep.
Once outside, Katara lets out a loud breath, inhaling and feeling the thruming of the moon in her blood. Her head is still throbbing a little, but being near her elements is a natural painkiller. They stand there for a second, Zuko’s hands shoved into his pockets as he eyes at the theater with disdain.
“Do you want me to talk or to listen?” He asks when he realizes she’s made no motion to do so. That in itself, that little consideration into what she needs at this moment, is enough to send her flying into his chest. And just like on the docks on the day she told him she forgave him, his arms wrap around her immediately and snugly, pulling her so tightly against him she feels like she could smother in his heat. He allows her to steady her breathing and ground herself to his gravity for what could be several minutes, only loosening his grip when she does so first.
“Can we walk first? I don’t want to be close to…here.” She gestures lamely and, knowing damn well she means more than just the Ember Island Players theater, he nods and slips his hand in hers to guide her away from it, towards the beach because if nothing else, Zuko can always count on her wanting to be by the water. She looks down to their intertwined hands and smiles softly as she pads behind him.
Among the many things she has learned about Zuko over the years and over his time with their group, it is that he shows some of his best emotion by physical touch. While hesitant to open up physically to any of them at first, she noticed that as he found himself more accepted by the group, his little touches found their way to all of them differently.
Aunt Wu had talked about love languages once. She stares at the back of Zuko’s head, tilting her head curiously. While he is accepting to give and receive touch over the past few months, she thinks she would file him under ‘acts of service’. The way he silently offers his energy with her in the morning to help her cook and clean, the way he carves different shapes into pieces they use for Pai Sho so Toph can follow along when she isn’t playing, the way he sits while Aang is running through his katas, even if Zuko’s instruction is over for the day to reassure him that he is doing them correctly. It’s almost hard for Katara to ever imagine a time when he wasn’t at her side each day.
When they hit the beach, Katara leans down to unfasten her sandals so her toes can be in the cold of the ocean and Zuko joins her, though he seems more content to walk beside her on the still warm sand. It is not an uncomfortable silence—it never is with them—as they begin a slow walk back towards the house.
Her thoughts are noisy in her head and she feels as though keeping them inside are making her head hurt more.
“It’s called bloodbending.” She says softly, Zuko turning his head to look down at her for a moment before turning back to look ahead of them. Katara realizes, with a gentle kind of warmth, that he finally trusts her to be on his scarred side, his “weaker side” as he pointed out once. “A bender from the Southern Watertribe escaped from a Fire Nation prison using it and she taught me before the eclipse.” She frowns as she says it. “ Taught is a generous term, actually. She forced me to learn it to stop Sokka and Aang from getting hurt.” A shudder crawls up her spine at the image that flashes then flying at each other against their will.
“She shouldn’t have had to learn it.” The statement surprises her because of the sorrow in his voice. There goes Zuko again, blaming himself for the actions of his ancestors. “Is that what you were doing to the Captain of the Southern Raiders?” His question is just that, a curious inquiry about something he experienced. He doesn’t sound angry or disgusted by her at the knowledge of her power.
She nods, frowning further at the memory of doing that to a man who was ‘innocent’ in the regards of her mission. “It’s a…difficult thing to do. And just about as immoral as you can get. But, blood is mostly water and I can tap into it. I used to only be able to use it during a full moon, like Hama. But I’m stronger than she is and, with some practice, I mastered it without the need of a full moon behind me.” Zuko doesn't flinch when Katara suddenly grabs his sleeve and forces them to a halt, full blown panic in her features. “You can’t tell the others. I swore I’d never use it again.”
“Katara, you don’t have to ask that of me. I would never talk to them about your business.” He reaches out, placing a hand on her arm, ducking his head just a little more so he’s closer. “Why didn’t you want to master it?” Zuko is too gentle and too understanding and the sincerity of his question makes Katara laugh a weak little thing.
“Really, Zuko?” She shakes her head at him and smiles at him. “Is there anything more sadistic and horrifying as someone reaching into you and controlling your every step, making you perform acts you would never do?” Zuko just blinks at her a little dumbly, letting his head fall to the side like Appa when he’s trying to understand.
“Didn’t we run into brainwashing in Ba Sing Se?” She feels his fingers tighten just a little, him still feeling the waves of guilt from the way he turned his back on her and the others in that awful city. “Can’t Toph encase a person in a coffin until they suffocate? Or Aang take the air from someone’s lungs? Even I could put my hand on your heart and cook you from the inside out.” Her eyes widen as he speaks and she knows he’s not trying to sound so horrific, but the fact that these were methods she had never even really considered before sort of racked her brain.
“So you’re saying bloodbending isn’t evil because every element—every person can do horrible things? That doesn’t really make me feel any better.” She grumbles, folding her arms over her chest and raising her chin at him. She’s learned his face so much that she sees the twitch of amusement in his lips as she challenges him, clearly relieved to see her back to something that is easy and comfortable for them.
So he shrugs, dropping his hand from her and Katara focuses on his face and not the coldneness that seems to seep where his hand was just warming. “I’m not trying to make you feel better. There are good and bad people out there, sure, but sometimes things aren’t so black and white. You’re a good person Katara, down to your bones. You learned this ‘evil’ thing to protect your friends and you don’t go out making people do awful things, so why are you afraid of it?” He speaks about it so casually that Katara is almost offended by how insensitive he is, but she sees what he’s doing, attacking her own stubborn thoughts with straight forward information until it chips away at what’s really eating her about it.
“It’s still wrong.” She tries to counter, r at her weakly, and he shrugs again.
“If you choose to see it that way. You can use it to help people, to protect yourself in unsafe situations. Think about what it could mean for the healing abilities of waterbenders. Those who don’t have the natural gift could still learn another mean to save a life. Sorry, Kat, you won’t convince me on this one.” She scrunches her face at him, absolutely annoyed that she herself hadn’t thought about the practical uses of bloodbending as a means of medicine and that it took a hot headed firebender to point it out to her.
“You wouldn’t feel the same if I controlled you right now.” She snaps, seeing her mistake immediately when he perks up and steps closer.
“Would you? I’d love to know what that feels like.” As he says it, Katara is acutely made aware of the drumming of his heart pumping blood throughout his body, how even just extending her sense to his essence makes her feel warmer beside the cold ocean mist. Her finger twitches, as though longing to feel that warmth even more in her chi, and his eyes flick down to catch the moment, looking back to her with an uncharacteristically childlike gleam in his eyes.
“No,” He deflates, the crown prince of the Fire Nation positively pouting at a southern peasant. “Maybe. Not tonight.” She Can’t help but offer him that and the answer immediately lifts him back up. She shakes her head, turning so they can resume their walk, the signs marking the private beach up ahead.
“Is that what you’re upset about? Bloodbending? “ Zuko asks, bringing memories back to Katara so violently she wonders if you can get whiplash from a sudden thought.
“Not…really.” She struggles to speak and Zuko doesn’t push, letting her get her thoughts together. “Aang kissed me. “
She doesn’t look at him as she says it, unsure if it would be worse to see surprise on his face or an obvious sort of stone face.
“Oh.” Is what the great Zuko comes up with, making her smile a little again.
“I didn’t want him to. And I asked him to stop. But he…he didn't listen.” She chews on her lip when she feels the temperature beside her spike to a level Katara is tempted to ask if it is dangerous on him physically. She sneaks a glance, looking at the way his jaw is so tight his teeth might shatter. They continue to walk, neither saying anything. Letting the knowledge into the air. It still isn’t uncomfortable, the quiet, but there is definitely a tension now that wasn’t there before. They keep walking until the summer house is in sight and it’s been so quiet that Katara wonders for a brief moment if she shouldn’t have said anything at all.
“I’ll kill him.” The answer is so matter-of-fact, so succinct, and so terribly Zuko that Katara burst into a loud laugh, quickly covering her mouth with her hands when his gaze narrows on her.
“I’m sorry.” She said through her laughs, heart undoubtedly lighter than it had been before. “I don’t know what I was expecting but you were quiet for so long.” She points out. Zuko is still as serious as a mailcar crash.
“I was weighing my options. And I just think that we’ll be fine with a baby waterbender to take down my father.” She laughs again, even though she can see how serious he is
“No Zuko, you can’t kill the last Airbender.” She reminds him as they continue to walk towards the house.
“This isn’t funny, Katara.” He snaps and it’s laced with so much anger that Katara reaches out, squeezing his hand in hers. It seems to settle the rage ballooning in his chest, affecting his usual controlled breathing.
“I know.” She agrees with him, her skin still crawling from where Aang had pressed his body against hers roughly, hands wandering with a frenzied passion despite her attempts to wiggle from his grasp or push him back. He just followed her lips with his and mistook her muffled shouts as something akin to moans of pleasure. “But you still can’t kill the avatar.”
He let’s a puff of smoke out of his nose like a dragon and it makes her giggle again. He is so terribly honest, so transparent that she can't believe there was a time she was ever afraid of it.
"I'm going to make his life a living hell then." His grumbling trails off into a list of obsencities and tortorous routines and she is smiling again, a weight lifted off of her chest at his kindness and respect of her and her space.
"Thank you." Her voice stops his manic ramblings and he looks at her softly again. "For being angry."
"Katara, I'm livid." One hand runs through his hair, the other too gripped around hers like cement.
"Me too." She gazes out into the rhythm of the vast ocean as it crashes against the sand. "I just…don't understand why this keeps happening."
His rage is back, a fire in his cambered eyes, hardened under the emotion. "He's done this before?" His voice is a barely contained storm, and Katara should praise his restraint to speak so calmly.
"Kind of." She's embarrassed to talk about it, to admit it to him. But he's Zuko and he's safe and she has never wanted to be so coddled before this morning. "The day of the invasion he kissed me before flying off to find your father. And I didn't say anything to him after, so it must have been my fault that he had the wrong idea tonight–"
She doesn't get through the sentence before Zuko is cutting her off again.
"Katara, he doesn't just get to fill in the blanks of your relationship without you. That's on him; not you." He is firm, borderline vicious in his spat. But she is shaking her ahead as he speaks.
"No, it is on me. I wanted to ignore it because I wasn't ready to figure it out right now. We're at war." Her voice is a little louder as she speaks to the incredulous reasoning. "I led him on. It's the same thing that happened with Haru and with Jet–"
She isn't expecting the swell of emotion in her throat when she speaks Jet's name. Her fingers remember the mangled mess that was his insides when she tried to heal him, her eyes see the blood trickle out of his mouth as it tries to twist into a wry smile in a feeble attempt to comfort her .
Zuko starts to say her name and suddenly it's all flowing from her unbidden, she pulls away from him and moves to stand deeper into the water, doing her best to time her breathing with the waves.
"In the Southern Water Tribe, Sokka and I are the only two our age. Everyone else is either an elder or a child. And the war took everything away and I had no reason to think of it and I know it's irrational but I used to think about what it would be like to fall in love. To kiss someone I had feelings for. My mother taught me to be kind and I just want to let her spirit live through my kindness but it gets twisted and suddenly I'm being told that my kindness is being misconstrued as something that it isn't." The tears are flowing now, Katara's face tilted up to soak in Yue's light and warmth. "And I had a crush on Jet, obviously, but when he kissed me in the treetops, he said it was because of the way I smiled at him. And when Haru kissed me at the Western Air Temple, he said it was because of the way I would hug him a little longer than before. And Aang kisses me and says it's because we should be together. I'm doing something wrong and I don't know how else to be. I try to be stern and it comes off that I'm mean or I'll try to play it off and it comes off that I'm naive." The waves have picked up speed, the inner turmoil affecting the world around her; another thing that she should be better aware of but cannot stop.
"Something about me screams at them to take and I don't know what it is and people keep getting hurt and I keep getting–" She sobs then, surrounded to her knees in the crashing waves of her emotions. She wants to sink and float underwater, to drown out the noise of her mind and the sounds of her choking.
For a moment, Katara bitterly believees that when she turns around Zuko will no longer be there. That he too will be overwhelmed at her onslaught of feelings and rationalizing and put distance between the two of them until she calms down.
But he is Zuko, and if there's one thing Katara has always firmly known, it is that he will always be better than she expects him to be. She hears the quick steps in the water before the overwhelming warmth of him envelops her; something terribly romantic she would think if she wasn't openly weeping.
He does not take, does not expect, does not push. Zuko just stays holding her while she cries in the light of the moon, surrounded in her element, letting out all the things she has felt but was too afraid to put voice to. Her own hands grip his arms around her torso like a lifeline, like she is out at sea and thrown overboard and about to be swallowed by the raging waters.
He is patient, unwavering in his grip around her even as she begins to find her footing, begins to find stillness in the storm of her heart.
"Your kindness," he starts, the rumbling in his chest felt in her entire body from how snugly he holds her. "is the strongest thing about you, Katara." Her shoulders slump, dropping the tension from her cries and she feels him squeeze her tighter as she suddenly finds it exhausting to stand. "You are not responsible for the way other people act. No one has any right to take from you what you do not give."
His words are like a warm sealskin blanket around her, and she can't help but twist in his arms and wrap her arms around his torso as snuggles as possible. A hand finds the back of her neck, holding her against him as she listens to the steady, albeit quick, beat of his heart. She doesn't even need to tap into her bending to feel it, she hears and feels it against his chest.
"Thank you." She manages to say after some time. She pulls back to wipe her eyes with a meek laugh, feeling so relieved to have gotten it out of her system that she is euphoric.
"I'm here for you. Any time. I will remind you of all that you are worth whenever you need it." His hand comes up to wipe a tear she has missed, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "We should head to the house. I'll make us some tea."
Acts of service , she thinks with a smile before she nods and let's him tug her to some more shallow sand before walking back, hand in hand. She stares at it again and smiles.
"Zuko?" she asks after a moment, hearing him hum in response. "What was your first kiss like?" It's an assumption, she knows, but he also speaks so highly of Mai, even after breaking her heart so many moons ago.
"That's…" He is flustered, she can see the tips of his ears redden and she laughs, bounding up to lace her arm fully through his and lean against him while they walk.
It is easy with Zuko.
"I only know Mai as the woman who is scary good with knives, so I guess I'm just curious about how you two managed–"
"It wasn't with Mai." She is surprised at his admission, stumbling in the sand and bringing them to a pause in their journey.
"Oh." She says dumbly, blinking up at him. He's still avoiding her eyes, it's still adorable.
It's still easy.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to assume." he shakes his head at her apology, tightening his arm when he feels her beginning to pull away in doubt.
"No, it's fine. You just caught me off guard. Do you remember my sister's other friend, Ty Lee?"
Her body reacts before she can, a chill running up her spine at the sensation of her blocked chi at the acrobat's hands. And Zuko has spoken highly of her, and Sokka told her all about how her and Mai teamed up to help them escape The Boiling Rock but her body remembers and feels the unease.
"Yeah, sorry about that." He grimaces when he feels her react to the name. "Azula always had a tendency to be a cruel child and act out." He smiles sadly when she snorts at the obvious. In the back of her mind, Katara logs the response as inappropriate. It must be terribly lonely to feel that way about ones family. "Ty Lee and I always got along, she was a great friend in the dark times. Mai…she pulls back when it gets too much. The night before my Agni Kai–the night before I got this scar and exiled–Mai wouldn't come see me. She locked herself away with Azula and left me all alone with my thoughts."
Katara resists the urge to hug and console him, the way he speaks so casually about the trauma he endured. The longstanding loneliness he suffered before he lost everything. He clears his throat, shaking off the emotion that seemed to catch up with his words. "Ty Lee came to see me though. She was struggling, I think she felt like she was going against Azula by being there. But she stayed with me the whole time. We stretched and meditated together until the morning. It was the kindest thing anyone had done for me in years. I told her thank you and she started to cry." A pang of weight on Katara's chest, thankful for this near stranger that she is afraid of for being there for him.
He recounts thee way he held her, consoling her while she cried for him. The utmost Zuko thing to do in that situation; caring for someone else while he himself is drowning. How, once her tears settled, and she pressed her forehead against his, whispering that she is rooting for him and proud of the person he's becomehe was so overcome with comfort that with a shaky hand, he tilts her chin up towards his and stares at her.
"She asked if I was going to kiss her." His cheeks are still tinted pink and Katara is enthralled with his story. When he tells Ty Lee that he would if she wants him to, she closes the distance and presses her lips against his. "It was just for a moment." He clarifies to no one's question. "We heard some of the Sages approaching my room to begin the rites and she snuck out the window." He shrugs, like he didn't just tell her such a beautiful story.
"I…she sounds incredible." Katara is in awe as they walk again, the beach house finally in view.
"She is. A little misguided, obviously, because of my sister-but it's a nice memory of mine. She was the right person and it was the right time, even if would never have developed further."
A bitter of her can't help but feel a small surge of an unpleasant emotion, a simmering jealously as Zuko describes something so beautiful that she will never get to have. That was taken away from her before she was ready.
"See that's the kind of romantic story I wanted my first kiss to be." She all but pouts, slamming her head against his arm as they walk, a grumbling sigh escaping her.
"I think it still will be, when it happens for you."
Her eyebrows are furrowed as she processes his words, confusion dominating everything she feels.
"Uh, Zuko?" She starts, looking up at him, pale skin shimmering in Yue's light. Had he been listening?
"The way I see it, Katara, you haven't had your first kiss yet." He says it so matter of factly that they walk in silence, approaching the cobblestone steps that lead up the massive house. She takes a few of the steps, lost in thought before she realizes that Zuko had not yet followed her. She turns, looking down at their now intertwined hands once more, she is taller than him like this but his presence is so filling even in the vast space of the evening.
"You deserve to be kissed when you decide that is what you want." Her heart is crashing in her chest, she wonders if he can feel it in the pulse of her fingers. "If those kisses were theirs and not yours , then they don't get to dictate your story."
That is another instance tonight of Zuko putting such simple words to concepts that completely alter their meaning. Bloodbending, romance, kissing.
She just kept feeling like things were taken from her; that because she has chosen to live in kindness that being misunderstood would just be part of the conversation.
But Zuko's reality is so crystallized and different than the anxieties and doubts that have plagued her since she was younger, more impressionable, alone with a handsome boy in the treetops. Alone with someone she felt special to be seen by.
Alone with a boy who saw her smitten and swooped in to take for more than she was ready for.
And all the boys who could zero in on her doubt and uncertainty and, even without malice, twist it into something that she wasn't ready for it to be. And maybe it might've been, one day, but that day was no longer hers.
There is fire whiskey in her stomach and Yue's energy thrumming in her veins. She can feel the steady, consistent drum of the man in front of her. A man who, despite every opportunity to become something vicious and cruel, has fought against every generational curse of his ancestors to be something different. Something more that a leader who takes and abuses his power and the trust that is placed within him.
Zuko is something more than anyone Katara has ever met. Zuko and her breathe easy after digging their way out of their heartaches and betrayals and trauma.
Zuko is the man standing before her, hand tight around hers, who does not seek to take anything from her which she does not freely give. He takes her forgiveness as an impossible blessing. He takes her trauma and shoulders it at her side. He gives her the space and bodily autonomy to decide in a split moment what justice she seeks.
He balances her, she realizes. In a way she has never felt so steady.
She steps down one step, slightly pulling him a little closer.
His eyes are wide and Katara could laugh if the air would return to her lungs. Only Zuko could give such impassioned words and not want for the result they may have.
When she tries to speak, her words catch and a near hysterical giggle bubbles from her.
"If I asked you to kiss me right now, would you?" She almost doesn't recognize her voice, low and full of longing and emotion.
For all of Zuko's normal bumbling and awkwardness, he does not retreat like she almost expects.
"Katara, I wasn't trying to imply that you should–" She squeezes his hand, reassuring him and silencing him in one moment.
"Zuko." She tries again, with a soft smile. "If I asked you to kiss me right now, what would you say?" Her prompt makes her feel brave, something akin to the chemicals that flood her system when they spar. It makes her feel massive
It makes her feel safe.
"No." Is what he manages to get out and even as the rejection stings like a slap, she nods. Because she asked and he answered. Zuko is suddenly in her space, close enough that she can smell the lingering distant smell of smoke and wood radiating from him. "I mean, hold on, give me a second." His eyes are frenzied, enough so that the thrill is still in her bones. "Not no because I don't want to." She catches the quick way his amber eyes scout for her lips before locking again with her own. "Because, agni, Katara I want to."
She is positively soaring, a euphoria better than any victory she has had so far in her life's journey. She is about to question him, to push as she often does, when his free hand comes up and the backs of his knuckles lightly brush along her cheek bone. The trail it leaves is one of fire and anticipation.
"I will not be someone in your story who takes anything else from you." Is what he gets out. And it is clear, now, why in her room at the beach house, the one that used to belong to Zuko in his youth, there are hidden books and plays about lovers and romance that overcome all all challenges and obstacles to find each other. Zuko is, in his heart, full of kindness and romance and a remarkable understanding of what it means to a woman who gets to choose.
And who gets to choose him.
She can tell he is bursting at the seem, begging her to understand the meaning of his words. "You're allowed to want things, Katara."
You're allowed to want me.
"Please." Comes a soft whisper from her lips as she moves closer. He pulls their intertwined hands up to his chest, pressing it against the thrashing heart that she's sure mimics her own.
He is so close now, a slowness that has never happened before. He wasn't kidding, nothing in her past was remotely close to this feeling, this urge, this desire.
She can feel the exhale of his breath on her lips and it takes a moment before Katara realizes they both have stopped pulling towards each other's gravity.
He's giving her this choice, the option to pull away and save this moment for someone else.
The comforting thought is all it takes to push forward on her toes and press her lips against his soft, warm ones.
Her body is singing as they hold there for a moment, the feel of their heartbeats, the tide, the moon, all too much for one glorious second.
And that second ends and the dam breaks. She steps forward, pressing herself against him, molding her body to his in a way she had never thought she would. His hand, once resting on her cheek, snakes its way behind her to tangle in her hair, bending her just slightly to adjust the angle. He keeps her hand pressed against his chest and she can't imagine wanting it anywhere else.
Her head tilts, singing into his lips as she feels both alight and calm against her feelings.
There is a patience that she does not recognize, a realization that this kiss doesn't have to move forward. That this moment, this wonderful moment, is being cared for as something precious. The understanding that she may never want to press her lips against his again, but that feeling makes her body warm.
She pushes forward, her tongue teasing his own and he pulls, opening with ready breath to receive her.
It is both the longest moment of her life and the shortest instance of joy she has ever felt when they both pull back for a dire breath they needed. Her eyes are closed, she is practically panting against his face, still molded against her cheek and forehead while he does the same. He bends down once more, stealing one extra lock of their lips for his own that Katara finds she does not mind. She wants him to kiss her like this always, whenever he wants if he does with the amount of care that he has shown.
The chemicals in her blood wane and suddenly she is almost shy, burrowing her hand against his chest, loving the way his hands–now near scalding hot from their kiss–eenvelope her.
They'll have to address this, probably. Maybe tomorrow when the moon isn't making her so brave and his heart isn't spurring her on. She'll have to talk about the way it feels when he holds her and the fears that it evokes when she thinks about it for even half a moment.
But for now, they stay embraced and surrounded in the peaceful melody of the ocean's song against the shore and the breeze on the wind.
When she thinks of tonight, tomorrow, she won't think of the worst play she could ever have imagined. She won't think of the characters of herself on stage, of the way a young man's feelings attempt to overpower her boundaries, nor will she think of the wracked sobs into the ocean and the admission of every moment of doubt she has ever felt.
She will not think of anything that takes.
She will think of Zuko's hand in hers. Of his heartbeat syncing with her own. She will think of the man of let her choose how this moment happens, without reservation of judgment.
She will think of clear skies and the salt of the water and the warmth of his breath in hers as she decides what her first kiss should be.
She will think of Zuko and she will be safe.