Work Text:
Aang winced, shielding himself with his drumsticks as he walked into Sokka and Katara’s garage almost a full half-hour later than their agreed-upon rehearsal time, as if the two thin pieces of wood could protect him from the combined side-eye of his friends. Even Toph, who regularly rolled in ages after rehearsal had started with a tea in her hand from Uncle Iroh’s, was shooting him a glare, which is how Aang knew he’d really messed up. He ducked his head into the entranceway, silently cursing himself for being just a bit too tall for the garage doorway.
Katara shifted from her position against the opposing doorframe, where she had been judgmentally leaning as she echoed the look in Toph’s eyes. “Aang…”
He threw up his hands in preemptive defence, words tumbling one after the other from his mouth. “I know! I know, I know I’m late,” he tugged his high-top converse off awkwardly, stashing his skateboard in the usual crevice he leaned it against. “But I swear, it’s for a good reason.”
“It better be,” Toph scoffed. “I blew off homework to come here.”
“Toph, you wouldn't have done the homework either way,” Aang deadpanned, elbowing her lightly. Zuko broke his typical brooding persona to chuckle just a little at this. which earned him a harsher elbow in the side, courtesy of Toph.
Aang chuckled. Initially, it had been pretty difficult to convince the others to let Zuko come jam with them, and eventually, let him join their group. When they’d all met a few years back in freshman year, Zuko had always been rude, lashed out. Him and his sister, along with a couple of their friends, had ended up starting their band right around when Aang and the others had started theirs.
Both of their bands had enrolled in a battle-of-the-bands type deal, hosted by the Republic City Underground Music Collective, or RCUMC. Aang had caught Zuko and the rest of his group cutting the Gaang’s strings and cords, effectively preventing them from performing entirely. Everyone had been furious at Zuko, Aang included, until minutes before they’d gone on. Zuko had turned up out of nowhere, arms full of his own band’s equipment, including a guitar Aang knew had originally belonged to Zuko’s uncle, and then handed it all over to them, all without saying a word. Even after his attempt to redeem himself, everyone had pretty much iced Zuko out, or at least, they did until Aang ended up being paired with Zuko for a group project. Reluctantly, he’d trudged into Zuko’s home, only to be greeted by Zuko’s uncle, Iroh, one of the kindest people Aang had ever met. Zuko apologised while they worked, seemed to genuinely mean it, and offered Aang replacements for all the equipment that had been damaged.
On days when Aang got to Zuko’s house before Zuko did, he learned from conversations with Iroh that Zuko had been hurt by his father and kicked out at a young age. Iroh had taken him in. Aang could sympathize, considering that he was still constantly bouncing between foster homes ever since the fatal attack on his hometown. It took a few study sessions for Aang to come around, but eventually, after seeing what Zuko could do with a guitar, Aang suggested that Zuko swing by the garage during rehearsal some time.
When Zuko had eventually mustered up the courage to drop by during a jam session, he’d stood in the doorway with ramrod straight posture, awkwardly rubbing his hand on the back of his neck and saying “Hey, Zuko here!” Naturally, everyone in the room had iced him out entirely for the first couple of rehearsals, but once each of them got to know him a bit, they ended up coming around. Zuko still seemed shy around them, which was why any kind of laughter coming from him was a good sign.
Zuko rubbed his ribs, dramatically glaring back at Toph.
“I can feel you glaring at me, Zuko.” Toph smirked, then turned back to Aang. “You’ve been rustling around in your pockets for a while now, you sure you’re not stalling for a good reason on why you were late?”
“It is a good reason. Look!” Aang finally managed to tug out the crumpled piece of paper from his cargo pocket, unfurling it for Toph to see.
Silence filled the room, and then, in a tone laced so much with sarcasm that it was hard to tell when the tone stopped and the sarcasm began, Toph said flatly. “Well, it sounds like a piece of paper, but I assume you’re referring to what’s on the paper. Way to taunt a blind girl, Aang.”
“I-I didn’t mean, I-” Aang stuttered awkwardly, his cheeks flushing an embarrassed shade of pink.
Sokka stalked over, ripping the paper out of Aang’s hands. “Let me see that!” He brought it over to the table, smoothing it out, and as Katara came over to read it, the pair gasped.
Toph huffed, crossing her arms. “Will everyone please stop ooh-ing and aah-ing and gasping and just read it out loud ?!”
“Right, right, sorry Toph.” Katara reached out, running a comforting hand down Toph’s arm. “It says that there’s a band showcase type thing coming up soon. Hosted by RCUMC! Registration is open, and I think Aang’s suggesting we submit something ourselves.”
“The only problem,” Aang added, “Is that the songs can’t be covers. We have to write something original. The idea of the music festival is to spotlight new young voices in indie rock.”
The others exchanged sidelong glances. “I’m sure that we can write something.” Sokka said with finality. “How hard can it be?”
Hours later, Sokka was sprawled on the couch, head stuffed between the dove grey cushions as he groaned at their utter lack of progress. Katara was perched on the arm of the couch, biting her lip as she tried to run through lyric ideas in her mind. Toph was (very un-subtly) preparing for a nap, curled up in the room’s vintage armchair, while Zuko paced with a hand on his chin, lost in thought.
Unsurprisingly, the five of them had discovered that writing original music does, in fact, require both skill and inspiration, something none of them felt they had at the moment.
Aang sat up, cross-legged on the carpet, which was only one of many that were draped across the cement floor. They had all gone on a thrifting spree a few months ago and bought a wide variety of small rugs to overlap and cancel out sound. The entire room was a collage of everything the four of them had done in the last couple of years. Posters from their small shows papered the walls, old drumsticks and swapped out guitar and bass strings filled a small box in the corner, and a mismatch of blankets and soundproofing were laid across most of the walls, in an attempt to lessen complaints from their neighbours.
“I think we’re going about this all wrong,” Katara piped up, tugging the empty whiteboard on the floor closer to her and uncapping a dry-erase marker with a popping sound. “How about we start with a topic, then do some storyboarding, then see where it gets us?” Reluctantly, Sokka and Toph slid off of their napping spots, while Aang rose from his spot on the carpet and settled next to her.
Katara tried to ignore the feeling of his forearm brushing hers as he settled down.
“What about a love song?” Zuko suggested.
“Ick, oogies!” Sokka yelped from his position next to the mini fridge as he pulled out a pair of sodas. He moved as though he was going to throw one to Toph, then thought better of it and just gently placed it next to her as he sat.
“You have a girlfriend, Sokka.” Zuko pointed out as Sokka settled next to him. Sokka tipped his head, acknowledging that Zuko might have a point. “Think about it, though.” He added. “Love songs have universal appeal, they’re relatable for lots of people… plus, we don’t have to write about anything real.”
Everyone exchanged looks back and forth, nodding and shrugging their agreement.
“I say we try starting with some chords.” Toph said, leaning back behind her to pass Zuko his guitar. He reached up to the tuning pegs, adjusting a few strings, then strummed through a few chords, humming under his breath to try and find notes to add in. Aang tapped out a rhythm absentmindedly.
“I like that,” Sokka nodded once Zuko had settled into a chord progression, “Would you want to add some heavier strums on two and four? We could do hits for the whole band…Katara-” he started, turning to her, but she had already pulled her bass onto her lap, picking out a melodic line that emphasized what Sokka had asked for and grinning excitedly.
“Alright, we’ve got some music, but I get the feeling that to write a song with lyrics, you…kinda have to write lyrics, too.” Toph chimed in, shifting her weight as she crossed her legs.
“I, uh-” Aang interjected, coughing over his words. “I have some stuff I was…working on.”
“You wrote lyrics?” Toph raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t have to sound so surprised! We did a lot of poetry back… back home.” He finished the sentence much more sombrely than he had begun it.
“Let's see it.” Katara smiled earnestly. “None of us will judge, Aang, I promise.” At this, he stretched behind him to grab his bag, and Katara awkwardly blushed, looking away when his shirt rode up to flash a muscled torso. Aang pulled his backpack into his lap, then fished through it for a few minutes until he finally pulled out his beat-up laptop, covered in stickers and bits of tape that likely held it together. He flicked through his files for a moment, then finally pulled one open, a word document filled with comments and different highlight colours. Finally, Sokka got impatient, tugging the laptop towards him, and Katara watched as his eyes lit up with excitement.
“Aang, this is, this is great !”
“I like it.” Zuko nodded.
“Would someone please put text-to-speech on?”
“Let me read it out loud.” Sokka said, apologetically. “My bad, Toph. Um, the beginning doesn’t seem finished yet, but this bit is the third verse, I think?"
“Rising up to your tiptoes,
to brush lips to my forehead.
I’d follow you wherever you’d go,
you make me feel less worthless.
Yeah, Sofia.
Down by the river, skipping stones,
breathing life back through my bones,
reviving me.”
Katara chose to not unpack her immediate feeling of jealousy towards whoever “Sofia” was.
Sokka continued. “This is the chorus, here;
Haunting me with doe eyes and sleepy smiles,
I wouldn’t want it any other way
Every second with you seems precious,
Still don’t get why you wanna waste time with me
Blush brushing your skin, I feel pure again
Wanna breathe your air, wanna make you stare, wanna breathe you in .”
“Ooh, Twinkletoes does have a bit of poetry in him. Breathing life back through my bones ? Nice, Aang.” She punctuated her complement with an aggressive shoulder punch.
“Thanks, Toph.” Aang wheezed back. “What..uh… what do you think, Katara?”
“It's nice.” She responded in clipped tones, her voice weirdly tense.
“Ohhhhkaaaaaay,” Sokka said after a few beats of silence. “You guys wanna try working out a vocal melody?” Everyone nodded their agreement, and after a few minutes, Aang was back behind his drum set as Sokka rigged the mic system. They ran the song over and over, pausing and adjusting some parts. Finally, after they’d worked out the sound of the choruses and the first few verses, Sokka held out his hand to pause everyone else.
“It’s missing something, we need another section with a different vibe. It’ll be too repetitive if we leave it like this.”
Aang shrugged from behind the drum set. “Breakdown, maybe? Katara, wanna hit me with a bassline?”
It took a few moments for Katara to come to. “Huh? What?”
“...Bassline? For a breakdown?” Aang asked, tentatively. “Are- are you alright?”
“Mhm. Just tired.” She plucked out a line, mentally tuning out as Sokka began to sing over it.
“Sofia, would you stay awhile?
It’s cold outside, I know you’re tired
Sofia, would you stay awhile?
We could be something more, if you’d let me?”
Katara couldn’t stop picturing Aang talking to some Sofia girl and feeling so strongly about her that he’d written something like this. Internally, she was kicking herself for not making a move sooner. For not being obvious enough. After her and Sokka had found Aang roaming around late at night years before, trying to avoid going back to the awful foster family he’d had at the time, he had seemed to have a little bit of a crush on her for a while. She was so busy, what with her mom having passed and her dad never being around- she had to placate CPS so they wouldn’t deem her father absent, had to do work around the house alongside Sokka… she had felt as though she was in survival mode.
Aang sent plenty of signs, but… the time had never really been right.
Besides, they were young, her just thirteen and him fourteen. She was sure that he wasn’t really serious about having feelings for her. Then, after a couple years, things changed.
Suddenly, Aang was tall, and teasing still, but more mature . Playful, but in such an intentional way. She noticed him, then noticed just how many girls were noticing him. Katara didn’t blame them for it, if she was being honest with herself. It was perfectly understandable for other girls to be attracted to this tall, cute guy who played drums and rock-climbed and did martial arts. Who was surprisingly sensitive and sweet and understanding.
No, Katara blamed herself, for not seeing it sooner. Not seeing him sooner.
And she supposed that having to work on a song written about some other girl who he was actually interested in was some sort of cosmic karma. They rehearsed for an hour or two longer, then eventually called it a day. Zuko offered a ride home to Toph, and Aang, as usual, exited the basement with a mock salute and his skateboard (and no helmet , which Katara still thought he was an idiot for).
The minute the door closed, Sokka dropped the cord he had been tidying up and whirled towards Katara. “What is up with you? Why were you acting so… weird for all of practice? Normally you get way more excited about writing stuff, but you just seemed…. I dunno, mentally elsewhere?”
Katara sighed, moving to unplug and put away the amps .“I guess I was.” She hesitated a moment before continuing, but before she could finish talking, Sokka cut her off.
“Don’t worry about it. You’re tired, that's totally fine. Pass me the amp, I can take care of cleanup.” She opened her mouth to protest, and Sokka ignored her entirely. “I swear, I’ve got it. You’ve had such a busy week, with assignments, tests, grocery shopping, cooking-”
“You do all of that too, Sokka.”
“You still deserve a break. I’ll make dinner tonight too.”
She smiled at her brother. “Thank you.” She swerved around him and headed upstairs, where, instead of properly resting, she laid at her bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to unpack what in the world she was supposed to do about Aang.
Her spiral of self indulgent sulking was interrupted by Sokka poking his head into the doorframe about a half-hour later. “Food’s ready.”
“In a minute.”
“Katara, c’mon.”
She dramatically rolled out of bed, not even sure what she was so angry about as she followed Sokka down the stairs. The two stayed quiet for a minute as they sat at the table, until Sokka, who was entirely exasperated by now, broke the silence.
“Is this an Aang thing?”
“...-W-what?” Katara asked, surprise evident in her tone.
“You’re not as subtle as you think you are. Did you know that literally everyone else in the band, even Suki, who isn’t technically in it, all have running bets on how long it’s going to take before you two get together?”
Katara sat there, shell-shocked, which Sokka took as an opportunity to keep talking.
“And after he wrote you a whole song ? I mean, c’mon-”
Katara snapped back to reality at this. “Me? It was about some girl called Sofia.”
“...Katara, when people write songs about someone, of course they’re not going to use a real name . Sofia is like… a metaphor.”
Katara raised an eyebrow. “Sokka, I don’t think you know what a metaphor is.”
“Whatever!” He retorted defensively, crossing his arms over each other. “You know I’m right.” Katara responded with a sarcastic “Sure,” but the thought didn’t leave her mind.
Katara always had trouble sleeping under full moons. She wasn’t sure when it had started, but she knew that it certainly still affected her, as she laid on her back, staring up through her skylight. Finally, after she’d had enough of the silence, she pushed herself back off of her bed, trudging down the stairs and pushing open the garage doors.
She picked through the instruments on the rack until she found her bass, then fiddled with the amp and tuning pegs until she was satisfied with the sound. Settling onto the carpeted floor, she found herself playing the bass-line she’d written for Aang’s song earlier, over and over. Once she’d done it enough times that she didn’t have to consciously look at her hands to make sure her notes were correct, she let her eyes drift around the room.
She gazed at various things aimlessly until her vision hooked onto an orange-and-yellow notebook, illuminated by a moonbeam. Tilting her head with curiosity, she rose, crossing the room in a few delicate steps to reach it. As she cracked open the leather-bound book, it flipped open to a page, as if the spine was well worn in that exact place.
Down by the river, skipping stones, breathing life back through my bones, reviving me.
Aang’s song.
She smiled fondly, tracing her fingers along all the words that were crossed out, the little doodles that lined the margins, but her fingers halted when the page flipped itself again, a light breeze carrying through the window.
A drawing of a girl. Pretty, brown skin, big blue eyes, dark wavy hair pulled up in complicated braids.
Katara .
Katara flipped through the pages quickly now, scanning, and next to the lyrics of every love song, there was a drawing of her . She felt teardrops prick at her eyes, her hand rising to her mouth in surprise at it all.
Maybe it’s about time I tried my hand at songwriting, myself.