Chapter Text
“Katara, did you put chili in table seven’s regular fries again?”
Zuko’s voice is laced with amusement and annoyance. Working alongside Katara at the barbecue franchise in the side of a mall means there are no boring days. It also means he constantly has to put up with her petty ways of taking out her hate on customers who scroll through Instagram while ordering, or use up the ketchup bottles but don't finish their serving.
“Of course not,” comes Katara’s voice, cheeky with mischief, from the other side of the counter. “I put extra pickles in their no-pickle burger. Honestly, it’s like they have nothing better to do on a Friday afternoon than complain to the waiters.”
“And she continues to be cruel,” Zuko mutters, smirking.
“Come on, Zuko, it’s not like you don't hate on your terrible customers every now and then,” she chides, shrugging as she picks up a tray on the counter, moving to bring it to it’s table.
“I do,” he admits placidly, “but I do so inwardly.”
She sticks out her tongue at him, and saunters across the restaurant to Table 20, placing the tray of onion rings and hot dogs in the centre.
She skips back over. “There’s no fun in that,” she pokes his shoulder, rather painfully. “I can't believe I’ve been working with you since the summer started and you still haven't learned my wayward ways.” They’ve been working the afternoon shift together, from two to eight every day except weekends since June.
“What, the art of spilling ginger ale all over their hamburger and blaming it on how your finger twitches because your bracelet is too tight?” Zuko snorts.
“It is an art, Zuko, and I have mastered it quite successfully, I’ll say.”
“I think Table 20 just realized that you put lime juice between the bun and the sausage, so maybe let the customers say.” He teases, and she dips a finger in a puddle of suspicious water on the counter and flicks it at his face. He chuckles.
“It's effective, too. De-stresses.” Katara says simply.
“Yes, because violently shaking a salt shaker as fast as humanly possible is everyone’s idea of a relaxing time,” He smirks and she scowls.
“I have more artful ways of doing this, you know. Such as, putting a healthy dose of lime juice in their coke.” She flicks more water at his face, and he laughs as he waves her hand away. “Or flicking water at annoying coworkers.”
“Zuko, Katara, my office, now. It’s… important.” The voice of their manager interrupts them, and they exchange looks of surprise, followed by shrugs, as they turn to head into the manager’s office.
Kuei, the manager, is sitting at his desk, somewhat preoccupied. “Have a seat,” he indicates the two chairs across from his.
“Now, I know you two are aware that this restaurant isn't exactly known for it’s quality food.” Kuei sighs. “We have exactly one good chef, and you two egged his house last month. We have one small collection of regulars, even though you-” a pointed glare at Katara from over his small glasses, “insist on ruining their food. Why do they stay, why do people come at all, we all wonder?”
Zuko and Katara exchange another glance of surprised concern. “Good question,” Zuko says finally. “We don't know.”
“They keep coming back because of you two. Your banter and constant flirting, they keep coming back to see if you've finally decided to date, or if you’re still all flirty. I think most of the staff still works with us because of that.”
“We- what? It’s not- flirting,” Katara sputters indignantly.
“We don't flirt! It's… quick-witted conversation.” Zuko affirms in a cool tone.
“Sure,” Kuei replies, unfazed. “Sure it is. What I'm saying is, don't date. If you do, everyone will go home happy and angst-free, and never think twice about the barbecue place in the corner of the mall.”
“Mr. Kuei, that, uh, that won’t be a problem.” Katara stutters, ever the diplomat.
“She’s right!” He nods in overly enthusiastic agreement.
“Good to hear, Katara. You're dismissed.” Kuei says, eyeing them conspicuously.
They both stumble out of Kuei’s office, a bit too shaken up and unable to meet each other’s eyes.
They’re back to where they were standing before, leaning against the counter, but this time the friendly playfulness is gone, replaced by awkward silence.
“That, uh, that was eventful,” Zuko says, rubbing the back of his neck.
“It was,” she replies a little too quickly. “Um, oh, look, um, I should probably, uh, take this to a table.” She nods to a tray with two chicken burgers, fries and a very large fountain drink. The label reads 34.
“Thirty-four,” Zuko says, trying to end the silence that stretches taut between them. “Isn't that the table with the guy who whined about not being able to read the menu? Something about contrast?”
“Oh, right,” she says, her eyes brightening. “I should probably vandalize this, yeah?” She indicates the tray she’s holding.
He grins lopsidedly. “How about some sugar in the fries? That’ll teach him about contrast.”
“That's the spirit, Zuko,” she laughs, and grabbing the sugar shaker from the counter, she dumps a large deal on their fries.
Their shift ends when balmy purple twilight begins to shift into the sky. They leave the mall together, and head into the parking lot, where his red car is parked, and where the entrance to the subway she takes home is.
They make pleasant talk, but the conversation in Kuei’s office threw their precarious banterful relationship off-balance.
“And that is why Inception is the best movie of all time,” Katara says happily.
“Because the wife is actually dead? The ending is part of the dream!” Zuko exclaims, laughing loudly.
“Fine, then what’s your favorite movie?” She shoots back.
“Easy,” he shrugs. “The Da Vinci Code.”
“I haven't seen it.”
“No way,” Zuko exclaims, incredulous. They’ve reached his car and she's reached the subway entrance, and this happens every evening: neither of them want to part ways, but it must be done. Silence falls over them once more.
Katara is the first to break it. “What Kuei said…” she starts. “We- we’re not likely… to date, are we?”
Zuko frowns. “Uh…”
“Because, you shut it down so easily, and- it’s- I…” she trails off, her facing becoming solid and impassive. “It’s nothing. Go home. See you Monday.” She begins to turn around.
“Katara,” he says softly, and she turns again. “I know it’s not nothing. You can talk to me.”
“It’s just that- us, you, me, what Kuei said… I don't...” She says after a moment’s hesitation, and her cheeks go vibrant red and he understands.
He understands, so he steps forward in two quick strides and he’s standing in front of her, a fair distance but still close.
She looks up at him -he’s nearly a head taller than she is- and into his eyes.
“It's just…” she sighs, giving up on words and for a moment he fears she’s going to walk away. Walk away and leave him standing there.
But instead, she grabs the collar of his unzipped sweater and pulls him down, and she reaches up to him on her tiptoes and kisses him.
He freezes for a moment, and her heart stops, and she fears he didn't want this and that she ruined everything, but then he relaxes and he’s kissing her back, colliding at last. His mouth moves against hers, teeth grazing her bottom lip, sending shivers down her spine. She links her arms behind his neck and his arm finds its way around her waist, and she pulls back to rest her forehead against his, his amber eyes open.
“Hi,” she whispers.
He smiles and thunder goes off in her heart. “Hey,” he says hoarsely.
She kisses him again, lightly this time.
“That was nice,” she breathes after pulling away again.
“I say it’s about time you watched the Da Vinci Code. How about that?” His smile is sweet and she remembers how much she loves it. He pulls away and takes her hand, standing next to her. She smiles back up at him.
He’s waiting for her by the counter on Monday, and she walks over to peck a kiss to his lips.
Kuei fires them immediately.