Work Text:
The hem of her skirt was dragging in the mud, and Katara kept tripping over the long dagged sleeves, barely avoiding going down face-first as she squelched angrily across the swampy yard. Despite the amount of fabric she wore, she was freezing in the off-shoulder costume gown, and soaked as she was from the rain, the damned thing threatened to drag her down with it.
This was not how she had anticipated this night going.
Finally, she made it to the shelter of the gazebo near the edge of the backyard, leaning heavily on the railing as she managed to climb the few short steps out of the downpour, and rubbed at her bare upper arms.
The veil she wore clung to her wet face, but at least the stupid wide-brimmed hat had kept her from being completely soaked. Katara was sure the costume Suki had talked her into renting for tonight was thoroughly ruined. She was cold, and wet, and she wanted to go home.
That was impossible, though. At least, not until Aang had some time to cool off. Or her brother had time to sober up, one of the two. Suki might give her a ride if she wasn't with Sokka, but then she'd have to explain why she couldn't go back with Aang, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. Not when all of her friends thought he was the perfect boyfriend.
In her defense, she had had no idea that Jet would be at the party tonight. How could she, when he'd skipped town six months ago? As upset as she'd been then, she'd assumed she'd never hear from him again, and had made her peace with it.
Then he'd shown up drunk, made some half-hearted apologies and had gotten belligerent when Aang and Toph had stepped in to escort him off the premises before Sokka even knew what was going on.
Then Aang had made that comment about how maybe if she hadn't chosen that costume - the Painted Lady one that Suki had begged her to try on the second they saw it in the window of the little shop - then maybe that whole thing with Jet wouldn't have happened.
Katara had angrily asked him what exactly he had meant by that. She'd known, of course, that it wasn't just about the costume, with its slinky crimson sleeves, or how much skin she showed, or even about tonight at all, really. None of this would have happened if she hadn't slept with Jet in the first place. But she hadn't even been dating Aang when that had happened. They'd been friends for years before he'd even asked her out. So what if she had made some stupid decisions in the past?
That's why she'd found herself outside, yards away from the house where all her friends from school were still partying, standing under a gazebo in the pouring rain.
Looking back, she could see people walking back and forth through the lit windows, voices and laughter muffled by the sound of the rain. It was as though a heavy curtain separated her from the happy party goers, one she could see through but not pass.
She'd thought herself alone in the backyard, but a feeling of being watched made her look back, away from the house. And she saw someone leaning against the railing across from her, the face peering at her intently from beneath the shelter of the little gazebo.
At first, it seemed like there was something wrong with the face of the other person on the gazebo. The wide eyes stared rudely and openly in her direction, unmoved by her noticing him looking. Then she realized he was wearing a mask, a wooden one like the ones they wore at the theater, painted to look like a blue demon's head.
Another party goer looking to get out of the rain, as she had. Maybe he had come out here to sober up, or grab a cigarette, or just to get away from the crowd. The way he continued to stare made her feel a bit uneasy, but it was probably just the mask.
"Oh," she said. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were - "
"It doesn't matter," he interrupted, his tone a low rasp from beneath the wooden mask, barely discernible above the sound of the rain, but Katara made out the words. The demon's face continued to fix her with its gaze, blank and unmoving.
"Okay," she said, trying to keep the slight irritation at his abrupt manner from her voice. She was glad for the anonymity of her veil, glad she had not removed the hat before she had noticed him. She wondered how long he had been watching her.
He seemed disinterested in her, though, a moment later turning away to rifle in the pocket of his dark jeans for something, and - she had guessed right - pulling out a cigarette.
She watched him tip the mask up so that his mouth and jaw were exposed, but kept it covering the top half of his face as he placed the cigarette between his teeth. An odd thing to do, especially since it was just the two of them out here, and he had intended to be alone. But maybe that was it, then. He had come out here because he didn't want to be seen.
As she watched him pull a lighter from his pocket and flick it open, the glow of its tiny flame casting shadows in his palm, Katara also found herself pondering whether it was safe for him to smoke with the cigarette dangling from his mouth a few inches from the wooden mask, but she wasn't about to say anything to him.
He smoked quietly and she couldn't tell whether he was looking at her or not, since the mask still covered the top half of his face. Instead, she watched the cigarette between his thin lips, watched him pluck it between two long fingers as he exhaled slowly.
There was something familiar about him, though she couldn't quite place what it was. His teeth were white and straight despite the smoking habit, his mouth and jaw curving in a way that was not unattractive. And that voice…she did know him from somewhere. Not from her classes at Ba Sing Se U, but somewhere else.
And then she had it. He was in the theater club at her high school. He was one of the techies who helped set up the equipment. She'd been in the chorus, and had only seen him from a distance, but she knew about him.
Or, at least, she knew what people said about him. Half-heard rumors and things that had seemed made up at the time, but no one really knew. No one really knew Zuko, as he'd mostly kept to himself. But people talked.
He'd only gone to her high school for a year, transferring halfway through his junior year from some posh private academy, but he'd been hard to miss, with that big scar that covered almost half his face. Katara now realized, with a bit of sadness, why he was keeping the mask on. She found herself feeling somewhat ashamed of having discovered it, what he had tried to hide. Maybe he hadn't realized that she knew who he was. Again she was grateful for the veil that hid her own face, but that only increased the feeling of shameful voyeurism that came over her, in equal parts embarrassing and exciting.
There'd been a fire. This, she knew, was more than just a schoolyard rumor. It had been in the news when she was little. Zuko and his sister and his father had made it out alive, but Zuko and his mother had been the last to be pulled out by the firefighters. The latter had not made it home from the hospital.
Some of the nastier rumors had it that Zuko, just a child himself at the time, had been the one to start the fire. Katara found her thoughts swirling towards shadowed corners as she watched the now older Zuko playing with the lighter, the cigarette still clenched between his teeth, the flame bursting to life in his hands one moment and then guttering out in the next.
She shivered, and he looked up, shoving the lighter back into his jeans pocket. Again she felt guilty. Then something happened that she didn't expect.
"You're freezing," he said to her in that strange rasp. "You should go back inside."
"I can't," she said defensively, rubbing her arms and refusing to glance back towards the direction of the house.
A moment later he was walking across the gazebo towards her, taking off his dark jacket.
And then draping it carefully around her shoulders before she had time to react.
He settled next to her against the railing, the cigarette in his hand. He was so close that she could smell him, cigarette smoke and wet hair and something earthy that tickled her nose.
"That's something we have in common."
Katara pulled his jacket around her, grateful for the sudden rush of warmth. His jacket smelt like him and was warmer than she could have imagined it would be. It was almost as if he'd put his arms around her, and Katara stopped that train of thought in its tracks before it had time to leave the station.
Maybe it was true what Aang had said. What kind of person was she? Had she been lying when she'd told herself she'd come out here to get away? Maybe she was just looking for attention after all.
The rush of sudden warmth and the wetness of the rain dripping down into her eyes began to combine with what she realized were hot, angry tears sliding down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” he said, shifting a bit uncertainly, and then dropping the cigarette from his mouth and grinding it with his heel. He was standing beside her, looking out into the rain, but he hadn’t moved closer to her or tried to touch her, like Jet might have, or asked her what was wrong, like Aang would have. He just stood there. With her. They stood together like that for a long moment, listening to the rain.
“Thanks,” she managed, when the tears had stopped coming.
Even though she couldn't really tell thought the mask, she thought he looked surprised.
“But, I didn't, I mean, do you, ah…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Shit, I'd offer you a ride home, but I don't really…have a car." He finished lamely.
She looked at him and laughed. There was something about him she couldn't quite figure out. She wondered what he had meant before, about them having something in common. Had he just come out here to smoke, or was he avoiding something, too?
"I'm sorry," she said quickly, when she noticed the slight downward turn of his mouth. "I didn't mean to laugh. I actually live really close by here, I'll walk home."
That was only half true. Her apartment was close enough to Ty Lee's, but it was far enough on foot to be just inconvenient enough, especially late at night in the rain wearing a slinky costume.
"I can walk you," he said, then added "If you…if that's okay. I mean," his mouth wavered for a moment, then he found his voice, and his smile below the mask was endearing. “We can walk together.”
Katara leaned forward and touched the tip of his mask, her fingers pausing for a moment, almost brushing his lips. She had meant to push the mask off the rest of his face so that she could look into his eyes, but something about his manner made her hesitate. Let him keep his secret for now, then. The thought made her feel odd, like she held him in her hands.
“Okay,” she said, smiling for the first time that night.