Chapter Text
”Can you see him yet?”
Katara eagerly scanned the sky from left to right, up and down, over the horizon and beyond, as if sheer determination alone could pull him into view.
“Katara, relax. He’s coming,” Sokka said, rolling his eyes from beside the almost-built watchtower. “You know he is. He always does.”
Oh, she knew he was coming. It wasn’t a question of whether—just when.
And somehow, waiting for that “when” always felt longer than it should.
“In the meantime,” Sokka continued, “while you’re busy staring at the clouds, you could help me patch up some of the fallen snow from my watchtower. I could really—”
“Aang!”
Katara’s voice cut through the cold morning air in pure, unfiltered joy, her palms pressed together and fingers intertwined against her chest. Far above them, Appa burst through a drifting cloud, massive and familiar. And there, sat on the broad saddle, was Aang. Bright oranges and yellows stood out against the endless blue. Noticeable and captivating in a way that was undeniable.
Katara’s eyes gleamed and she was already running before Appa had even landed. Snow kicked up beneath her boots as she crossed the clearing, waving both arms high above her head like he could somehow miss her standing there. The moment Appa’s paws hit the ground, she slowed only enough to avoid slipping outright, breathless more from excitement than exertion.
Appa’s landing was heavy and steady, though not entirely graceful. A sweep of his tail sent a rush of snow over Sokka’s watchtower.
Aang’s face lit immediately when he saw her.
“Hey, Katara.”
There was something unfairly easy about the way he said her name.
He airbent himself lightly from Appa’s saddle, landing in the snow with practiced ease, though Katara barely gave him time to straighten before throwing her arms around him.
Aang stiffened for the briefest second in surprise. Then his arms wrapped around her just as quickly, like instinct more than thought, and Katara felt him laugh softly beneath his breath.
“Hey, Aang,” she mumbled against his shoulder, immediately aware of how excited she sounded.
Spirits, it had only been three days.
When they finally pulled apart, neither of them moved back very far. Aang’s hands lingered awkwardly near her elbows before dropping again, his cheeks faintly pink beneath the cold.
Katara forced herself to pull away from him and turn to Appa, burying her face in his fur—suddenly very aware of the warmth rising to her cheeks. “Hi, Appa.”
The sky bison rumbled happily at the attention.
Behind them came the sound of crunching snow and immediate outrage. “My watchtower!” Sokka cried in horror.
“Oh. Sorry about that, Sokka,” Aang said quickly, rubbing the back of his head. “I can help you fix it.”
“Oh, you better. That sky bison of yours needs to—”
Sokka was immediately cut off as Appa licked him clean across the face. Katara burst out laughing as Sokka stumbled backward in disgust, wiping slobber from his parka sleeve while Appa blinked at him innocently. “Oh, great,” Sokka muttered. “I just washed this morning.”
Despite himself, though, his hand was already reaching up to scratch Appa behind the ear. “Good to see you too, buddy.”
Sokka turned to Aang casually, “So, how was your trip here, Aang? See anything interesting on the way?,” his hands landing on his hips.
Aang responded without hesitation, enthusiasm ringing clear in his voice again. “It was great! I saw a giant koi fish on the way over.” He threw his hands up with excitement as he looked toward Katara, then back to Sokka. “We’ve all got to go ride one sometime.”
“Well… I was more so asking about Fire Nation fleets. But that sounds fun, I guess,” Sokka said flatly. “But since I can’t see any fleets approaching now since my watchtower has been destroyed—you can help me repair it.”
Katara snorted and crossed her arms. “Aang will do no such thing!” She stomped one foot into the snow defiantly. “It’s your watch tower—you fix it. It wasn’t exactly a sturdy build in the first place,” she smirked.
Then, before Sokka could argue again, Katara grabbed Aang’s arm and tugged him along behind her. Aang went more than willingly that it only made Sokka groan louder behind them.
“Yeah, yeah,” he called after them. “You hang out with your boyfriend. I’ll do the actual work around here.”
Katara stopped so abruptly that Aang nearly walked right into her. She turned sharply, and a single flick of her hand sent a wave of snow crashing directly into her brother, burying him beneath it with only his head peeking out.
Katara and Aang set off again and Sokka let out a long huff through packed snow. “Yeah, I probably deserved that.”
──────
By the time they reached the frozen lake beyond the village, Katara’s annoyance had mostly dissolved into a lingering irritation.
“Ugh! He’s such a sexist, immature moron!”
Katara dropped the water she was bending back into the icy lake with a furious splash, droplets scattering like shards in the air. Aang stood beside her quietly, the water he held still in the air, his feet crossed.
He wondered if he should have said anything earlier, but he felt it wasn’t his place to come between between Katara and her family. Sokka was great. Funny when he wanted to be, and brave. However, it had not been the first time Aang had heard certain ‘comments’ like that slip from him.
Katara crouched near the water’s edge and pulled a ribbon of water from beneath the ice with one smooth movement. It curled around her wrists automatically while she continued speaking.
“He acts like I can’t do anything properly just because I’m a girl.” She snapped the water harder than necessary through the air.
Aang still held the water carefully as he watched her bend.
Watched her, specifically.
The water moved differently when she controlled it. Cleaner somehow. More fluid. She bent the way people breathed — naturally enough that it almost stopped looking difficult at all.
“You know he’s wrong, though,” Aang said.
Katara huffed softly. “I know.” She exhaled sharply, letting the last of her anger ripple through the water before she steadied it again in her hands. “He’s just such a—ugh. Sorry, Aang.”
“You don’t need to apologise, Katara. You’re allowed to complain.”
She sighed, her gaze dropping to the water that she was still unconsciously shaping between her fingers. “I mean… you only get to spend a day here before you go back to the temple, and I just want to spend it with you without him ruining my mood.”
Suddenly, the water slipped from her control again, splashing onto her boots and soaking through. Katara stomped one heavy foot into the snow, her hands fisted—stilled and shaking at her sides.
“Do you see?! This is what he does! He—”
Aang stepped closer without hesitation and placed one gentle hand on her shoulder. Katara stilled instantly. He felt her shoulders soften beneath his touch before she had even turned to face him. And once she did, only then did she realise how close he had moved toward her.
He wore a soft smile, a small crease of concern forming between his brows. Her heart leapt. This was becoming a bit of a more frequent problem.
“Katara, it’s okay,” Aang said softly. “Sokka is just…” He hesitated, eyes drifting upward as if searching the sky itself for the right word. He dropped his gaze back to hers.
“Uneducated.”
A short laugh escaped Katara before she could stop it. The sound of it only made Aang’s brows raise and chin perk up.
“You’re right,” she said. “Very uneducated.”
“But he’ll learn,” Aang added, hopeful as ever. “…Eventually.”
“Oh, he will learn,” Katara said, grinning now. She cracked her knuckles into her palm with exaggerated seriousness. “One way or another.”
Aang laughed, hand briefly moving to his stomach as he threw his head forward. “I can teach him what the Air Nomads have taught me about equality,” he said brightly. “How everyone should be treated the same.”
Katara rolled her eyes. “He’s like a chattering hog monkey. He’d probably talk his way out of a conversation like that.”
“I have faith,” Aang said, eyes closed with one hand raised and the other pressed to his chest, as if making a solemn vow. He slowly opened one eye to peek her reaction. They both let out a shared chuckle at that.
“So…I think we’re finished waterbending for now?”
“What? No.” Katara straightened, her excitement building again. “I’ve been working on this new move I’ve wanted to show you,” mischief creeping into her expression. “I’m calling it the water whip.”
“The water whip? What’s that?”
“Turn around.”
Aang did as she asked, and walked two steps forward before the crack of water against his backside echoed across the lake. Aang yelped so loudly several birds scattered from a nearby ice bank.
Katara doubled over laughing almost instantly, barely able to stay upright as Aang spun around, rubbing the back of his robes. “Ow!,” he said eyes wide. “What was that for?!”
“I’m sorry!” she gasped, very clearly not sorry at all. “I didn’t think it’d hit that hard!”
“Well, great form…thats for sure,” he muttered, walking back toward her, still rubbing the sting with a wince, one eye squeezed shut.
Katara laughed at the expression on his face and Aang shook his head. But despite himself, he felt the corners of his mouth lifting again almost immediately hearing it.
Spirits, her laugh really was impossible not to forgive.
“Well…” he said, stepping closer again, “We’re definitely done waterbending now. You can teach me that move the next time I’m back,” a mischievous smirk spread across his face. “I’ll use it on Sokka.”
That drew another laugh from her.
He would think about that later, on the trip back—about all the other things he could say or do just to make her laugh.
“But for now…” he raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Will you go penguin sledding with me, Katara?”
He held out his hand. The request was so familiar it made something warm settle in Katara’s chest immediately. However, the outstretched hand…wasn’t. She had held Aang’s hand before plenty of times — while climbing icy cliffs, him helping to balance her on an air scooter, helping each other across slippery patches near the shore. None of it had ever felt particularly significant.
This did.
Maybe because he looked oddly nervous holding it there. Maybe because she was painfully aware of him all afternoon. Or maybe because the look he gave her now felt softer somehow, quieter beneath all the usual brightness.
Either way, warmth rushed to her cheeks again.
Get ahold of yourself, Katara! It’s just his hand for Spirit’s sake.
She took his hand, “I would love to go penguin sledding with you, Aang.” He smiled. Their fingers intertwined easily—like they’d done it a thousand different times before. And together, they trudged up and down the snowy mounds—shoulders brushing, hands swinging back and forth between them in a gentle rhythm they didn’t even need to think about. Both of them oblivious to the fact that they were already falling—quietly, helplessly—into something neither of them had learned how to name, let alone hold.
──────
They reached their usual spot for finding the otter penguins and reluctantly let go of each other’s hands to go catch them. After many failed attempts, they finally managed to hop onto the backs of two otter penguins.
They flew down the icy hills screaming with laughter, racing through narrow tunnels carved into the snow by years of wind and ice. “You’re cheating!” Katara shouted, laughter and accusation tangled in her voice. “You’re using airbending for a boost!”
“No, I’m not!,” he twisted around just far enough to grin at her knowingly over his shoulder. “You’re imagining things!” Aang leaned a little too far forward to try gain even more speed, his penguin skidding sideways on the slippery surface—
And straight into Katara’s.
The next few seconds happened far too quickly. Both penguins slip out from beneath them. Katara is thrown into the air with a startled yelp, snow exploding upward around her. Then where there was ice, a sudden rush of air rushed beneath her. Strong arms caught her around the waist—Aang.
They landed together hard enough to collapse fully into the snow, though softened enough by airbending that neither of them actually got hurt. Momentum still sent them rolling several feet down the slope. By the time they finally stopped, Katara was half sprawled across him, both of them tangled together in a mess of limbs, snow and breathless laughter.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Aang still had one arm wrapped tightly around her waist from catching her. Katara’s hand rested against his chest, close enough now to feel how hard his heart was pounding beneath his layers of clothing.
Slowly, the laughter between them faded. Different.
Katara became suddenly, painfully aware of how close his face was. Aang noticed it at the exact same time. Neither of them looked away.
Aang’s breath caught first.
Katara was close enough now that he could see melted snow caught against the ends of her eyelashes. One loose strand of hair had fallen free beside her face during the fall, shifting softly in the wind.
Beautiful, he thought helplessly.
He lifted one hand slowly before he could overthink it and brushed the loose strand of hair gently back behind her ear. Katara’s breath catches then. Her heart soared so violently she thinks it might genuinely burst through her chest.
Aang’s fingers linger for only a second before he seems to realise what he’d done, his cheeks immediately flushing pink beneath the cold. Katara was blushing too. And because they were still practically tangled together in the snow, neither of them could hide it very well.
“Well,” Katara coughed awkwardly. “There’s a first for everything, I guess.” The words came out far too quickly.
Aang laughs softly, nervous and winded all at once. Very smooth.
They untangle themselves from each other clumsily, brushing snow from their clothes. Katara quickly throws her braid back over her shoulder and stands abruptly.
Too quickly for him not to notice.
He sat up slower, trying not to look as affected as he felt while Katara continued to brush snow hurriedly from her sleeves. Katara cleared her throat. “Come on!” she says suddenly. “Remember the Return of the Whale Seal Festival I was telling you about last week? Preparations start tonight—we should go help before it gets dark.”
Before Aang could properly respond, she was already hurrying back toward the village. He shakes his head as if dizzy from how fast it had happened. He blinks after her.
“Katara, wait—”
But she’s already gone. The smile he held slowly slips from his face.
Did he ruin the moment?
Was there even a moment had to ruin?
Aang lowers himself back into the snow for a second, supporting himself on his hands as he stares blankly down at the ground. His stomach twists painfully. Then, after a long moment, he sighs and pushes himself upright before following after her toward the village.
──────
The sky was turning gold around them, soft streaks of pink reflecting across the snow beneath their boots. Katara and Aang sat just outside the edge of the Southern Water Tribe, close enough to see lanterns glowing warmly in the near distance and banners being strung up for the festival. Behind them, Appa snored quietly, half-buried in snow, where he had curled up for the evening.
A comfortable silence had settled between them. But somewhere within it lingered the same thought neither of them wanted to acknowledge.
Aang had to leave soon.
The Southern Air Temple was not impossibly far away. Not really. Yet every time he left, it somehow felt farther than before. And Aang couldn’t come every day. Hewould if he could. But he was the Avatar. And the Avatar had responsibilities.
Aang sat cross-legged in the snow beside her, hands tucked into the sleeves of his tunic as he absently fidgeted with the fabric. His thoughts drifted back through the day the same way they always did whenever he visited the Southern Water Tribe.
Only this time, his thoughts felt louder. The last few months had changed something. He wasn’t entirely sure when it had happened. Maybe it had been there longer than he realised. All he knew was that leaving had become harder, and somehow missing Katara always seemed to begin before he’d even gone. His gaze wandered toward the village lights glowing warmly in the distance while his thoughts stubbornly circled back to her anyway. He thought about the way she greeted him every time he arrived, shouting his name before Appa had even fully descended from the clouds. He thought about the stories she told while they sat around fires late into the evening, speaking so passionately about her people and the Southern Water Tribe that he could listen for hours without growing tired of it. And spirits, her laugh. Sometimes it escaped her before she could stop it, bright and loud and impossible not to join in with. Other times she tried to hide it behind her hand afterwards, like she wasn’t aware that it was the sweetest sound to exist. Aang smiled faintly to himself, his stomach flipping at the thought even with her sitting just inches away from him. Then his mind drifted back to penguin sledding earlier that afternoon.
The memory hit him so suddenly— the way she had ran away. Amd whatever smile he wore faded. Hours later, the moment still sat stubbornly at the front of his mind alongside the same impossible question that had been following him for weeks now. How do I tell her?
Worhout realising, Aang began pulling at the inside of his sleeves agaiin. Beside him, Katara noticed his fidgeting almost immediately. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
Aang startled slightly. “Huh?”
“You’re acting weird.”
“I’m not acting weird.”
Katara scoffed. “You definitely are.”
Aang attempted what he hoped was an innocent expression.
It didn’t work.
“You don’t think I can read when something’s on your mind by now?” she teased.
Unfortunately, she was right. They had been best friends for two years now. Katara had always seemed to notice things other people missed. A look. A sigh. A bad attempt at pretending everything was fine.
Aang still remembered the night he had taken Appa out for a flight and been caught in a storm, waking up on an adrift iceberg and seeing Katara’s face leaning over him.
Before either of them had spoken a single word, something about her expression—the slight raise of her eyebrow—made it feel as though she could already read him before he’d even figured out what he was thinking himself. He had been too stunned to hide it anyway; bewildered by how beautiful she looked the very first time he saw her.
Stupid, Aang thought. You can’t even hide what you’re thinking from her for five seconds.
He let his head fall back against Appa’s side and stared dramatically up at the sky.
“Okay,” he said. “If you know me so well, what am I thinking?”
Katara snorted.
“I never said I could read your mind. I said I know when something’s on your mind, doofus.”
“Mhm,” Aang sighed to himself. He looked away again.
Nothing came after it.
“Oh, Aang, would you just tell me—“
“I like you.”
For a second, neither of them moved.
Neither of them spoke.
Katara blinked, surprise flashing across her face. Aang eyes widened in horror at this.
Well.
Too late now.
“Uhm…” Katara let out a nervous laugh. “I like you too, Aang. You’re my best friend.”
Aang’s heart sank.
Of course she thought that was what he meant.
Beside him, Katara’s own thoughts had begun racing. Part of her wondered whether this was the moment she’d been waiting for, but another part immediately shut the idea down. She briefly recalled many conversations they’d had about about Air Nomad traditions and cultures, how not having earthly attachment’s was something they practiced. She had always assumed whatever feelings she carried for him were entirely her own.
The silence that followed became increasingly unbearable. Katara found herself rubbing at her hand anxiously while Aang stared so intently at the snow beneath them.
Finally, he swallowed hard and looked up.
“You’re my best friend too,” he said quietly. “But that’s not what I meant.”
Katara’s breath caught.
Aang forced himself to hold her gaze, fighting every embarassed instinct telling him to look away.
“I like you,” he repeated, his voice softer now. “But more than normal.”
The world seemed to tilt slightly beneath her.
She froze.
Not because she was upset. Not because she didn’t know what to say. But because after months of wondering and hoping and convincing herself she was imagining things, Aang had somehow managed to say the exact words she never thought she’d hear.
“Oh.”
The sound escaped before she could stop it.
Aang looked immediately stricken.
“Oh?” he echoed weakly.
Katara blinked. Still staring.
Aang groaned suddenly and hit his hand against his forehead. “Ugh, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.” He tugged the collar of his tunic upward, trying desperately to hide his burning face inside it.
“No!”
Katara spoke so quickly it startled both of them.
Aang stopped fighting his clothes and slowly looksd up at her.
“Not a bad oh,” Katara said quickly, her own face turning bright red. “I just… I didn’t know you were going to say that.”
“I shouldn’t have.”
“No, Aang,” her voice as gentle as the breeze surrounding them. “I’m glad you did.”
Their eyes met again. Both of them searching to find what to say next.
For years, it had been easy. Aang arrived. They spent the day together. Aang left. They counted the days until the next visit.
Now, somehow, everything felt both exactly the same and completely different.
Katara looked down, more to give herself something to do than anything else.
That was when she noticed it.
Pink splotches with strands of black amongst the white. A panda lily pushing through the snow beside her boot.
“What’s that”,” he said a little more than thankful for the potential topic change.
Katara carefully picked the flower before reaching into her pocket for the small blue cloth she usually carried for drying off her hands after waterbending.
“A panda lily.”
Aang leaned in closer. “Wow,” his eyes widened slightly. “It survived winter?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s amazing,” he said, genuinely interested.
Carefully, she pressed the flower inside the cloth, protecting the delicate petals with gentle fingers.
Then she held it out toward him.
“Here.”
Aang blinked in surprise, looking between her and the flower.
“For me?,” eyes finally landing in her. She nodded. “Why?”
Katara hesitated. Shy. Because he made her nervous now more than ever. Because her heart hadn’t calmed down once all evening. Because every time he looked at her, something inside her felt impossibly warm. Because that had to mean something.
“So you know I like you more than normal too.
For a second, Aang simply stared at her.
Then his entire face lit up.
Katara had seen him happy before. She’d seen him excited, relieved, proud and victorious.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him look quite like this.
Aang held the flower carefully against his chest as though it were the most valuable thing he’d ever been given.
And suddenly they were smiling at each other again like they understood everything, despite still both being lost for words.
But maybe they didn’t need them at all.
──────
Aang had already said goodbye to Sokka, Hakoda, Kya, Kanna and nearly every child in the Southern Water Tribe at least twice.
Only one goodbye remained.
He adjusted Appa’s saddle for the third time despite there being nothing left to adjust.
“I’ll be back,” he promised. “The usual. Three days, tops.”
Katara smiled faintly. “I know.”
The words should have been reassuring. They always had been before.
Somehow they felt different now.
Maybe because, for the first time, neither of them had to wonder how the other felt.
Aang hopped down from Appa’s saddle again, unable to seem to leave properly.
But they both knew the monks expected him back by morning. Gyatso would worry if he stayed gone too long.
He was still only fourteen, after all.
That’s alright,” Katara said softly. “I just…” She looked down at the snow beneath her boots for a second before meeting his eyes again. “I wish you could stay longer.”
Suddenly, she felt entirely more brazen afyer earlier.
Aang’s expression mellowed instantly.
From Appa’s saddle, he airbended gently back down in front of her, boots crunching lightly against the snow.
“Me too,” he admitted quietly. “But you know—”
“I know. I do know.” Katara smiled faintly. “You have to get home. Avatar training, airbending lessons, your friends, Gyatso…” Her smile grew a little warmer. “Tell him I said hi too.”
Aang smiled back.
Did she know he would take her with him in a heartbeat if he could?
But Hakoda and Kya barely allowed her rides on Appa around the Water Tribe anymore. Nevermind taking her past the perimeter of the South Pole. Not with the growing fear surrounding the Fire Nation.
And suddenly, there it was again.
The reminder of why he had to leave at all.
Why he had to keep training.
Why becoming the Avatar mattered—
To stop the Fire Nation’s advances towards a war. And so that Katara would be free to come with him on Appa anytime they wished.
“I will,” Aang promised. “He’s always excited to hear how you and Sokka are doing.”
His grin turned slightly sheepish.
“Especially you.”
And he’s probably going to airbend himself through the roof when I tell him you like me too, Aang thought, trying very hard not to smile too hard at the idea.
A smile touched Katara’s lips in return.
This goodbye already felt different from all the others before it.
Because now they knew.
And neither of them knew what happened next.
“So…” Katara clasped her hands behind her back. “What are we doing next time you’re back?”
Aang pretended to think very seriously, lifting his fingers to stroke his chin. “I’m thinking snowmen.”
Katara laughed.
“And,” he added with a growing smirk, “I’m thinking you teach me that water whip move.”
“So you can use it on Sokka?”
“Exactly.”
They both laughed again, effortless and comforting.
Aang’s fave softened once more.
“Your waterbending’s getting really good, by the way,” he said genuinely. “I’m learning a lot from you.”
Katara blinked.
“Soon I’m going to have to start calling you Master Katara.”
Her cheeks lit instantly. How did he keep doing this?
And this time, she definitely didn’t try to hide it.
Even in the growing darkness, Aang noticed.
Now came the hard part.
Actually leaving.
“I should probably go soon,” Aang said reluctantly. “Or I’ll have the whole Southern Air Temple out looking for me, with Gyatso leading the way.”
Katara smiled subtly. “Mhm, you wouldn’t want to cause a fuss.”
Aang laughed quietly under his breath. “Yeah…”
Then he looked at her one last time.
“I’ll be back.”
“I know you will.”
He turned to airbend himself back onto Appa—
“Wait, Aang—”
Katara reached out quickly and grabbed his hand. Aang turned back just in time for her lips to press softly against his cheek. A quiet little mwah escaped her before she pulled away again.
Aang froze completely.
It was his turn for his cheeks to light up again, so much so that he could only imagine how red he looked.
Katara swayed lightly side to side, suddenly very interested in the ground beneath her boots.
Aang had to physically shake himself back into reality—back to the fact he had to leave—before he finally managed to give Katara a goofy, smitten smile when she finally looked back up at him.
And with that, he airbent himself up onto Appa’s saddle.
Still blushing.
Still grinning like an idiot.
“Goodnight, Katara.”
“Goodnight, Aang.”
Katara nuzzled Appa before stepping back, and with one great sweep of Appa’s tail, they lifted into the night sky.
Katara stood there watching until they disappeared fully into the moonlit darkness.
Then she turned and practically skipped back toward the village, her heart racing faster than her feet could carry her.
And for the first time ever, watching him leave didn’t make her so sad.
This time felt different.
New.
And she knew, somehow, that everything between them had changed.
And change things did.
Just not for the better.