Work Text:
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Katara grumbles, roughly snatching down the vibrant green and white bundle from the hallway entryway. She turns the bundle over in her hands, glaring at the cluster of smooth, white berries among the leaves. This is the third set of mistletoe that she’s found in the royal family’s vacation home in the past two days, and La is it getting tired.
An airy laugh sounds from behind her. Katara turns around, pinning her unwelcome visitor with an icy glare.
“Shut up,” Katara hisses, though there is no real bite to it.
Suki holds up her hands in mock defense. “Hey,” she says, “I’m on your side, remember?”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Katara huffs, before whipping back around and marching down the hall to the kitchen.
The kitchen is empty when she arrives, and Katara takes a moment to thank the Spirits that everyone else had chosen to go down to the beach earlier. She and Suki had stayed behind for their own reasons—Suki, due to her moon cycle, and Katara because she simply couldn’t stand being around a certain someone at the moment.
She makes her way to the kitchen’s back door, sliding it open to allow the cool, beach air against her cheeks. She takes a moment to breathe in the smell of saltwater, exhaling quickly before she pulls her arm back and launches the parasite toward the thin tree line. It lands a good three feet away from her intended destination of the trees, its lush green leaves mocking her from its new home in the sand.
Katara crosses her arms, narrowing her gaze at the speck of green. Now would be a great time to be a Firebender. She could simply burn the stupid parasite to a crisp and be done with it. Really, why must Aang be so insistent on this stupid Earth Kingdom tradition? He acts as if staging these so-called romantic encounters will change her answer.
“He’s gonna notice it’s gone, you know.”
Katara swallows a sigh as she turns to face Suki, carefully sliding the door closed behind her.
“So what if he does?” Katara scoffs. “It’s better that he knows that I took it down rather than leaving it up. That’ll only make him think I’m okay with it.”
Her eyes take in the Yule decorations that line the kitchen walls—paper crafts of the group as gingerbread people, snowflakes, and miniature evergreen trees. It is the most tame of decorations versus the mistletoe that seems to be glued to every doorframe. She supposes that Aang had meant to hang the decorations as a distraction to his real mission of the mistletoe, though anyone with eyes could see the truth.
Katara blames Suki for his sudden obsession with the mistletoe. If she hadn’t told them all about the stupid Earth Kingdom Yule tradition, then they wouldn’t be in this mess now. La, Katara can’t even imagine how he managed to find such a thing in the Fire Nation.
Suki shakes her head, a mischievous smile twisting her lips. “Maybe he’s just trying to get us in the spirit of the Yuletide.”
Katara blanched. “By getting us all to kiss each other?” She’d already almost been caught beneath it once with him. It’d been situated right at the entrance of the house, and she’d nearly broken her leg diving away from it as he hurried to get underneath it with her.
Suki shrugs. “Sokka and I aren’t complaining.”
Katara casts her a look, “Because you two find any excuse to be all over each other.”
The mischievous tilt to Suki’s smile only seems to deepen. “You’re not wrong there.”
She wouldn’t complain if she and Aang were actually like that. But they aren’t, and she has no plans of changing that. Suki knows that, just as she is well aware of Aang’s brilliant ideas to change Katara’s mind about that.
You just have to give him time to move on, Suki once said. But she had given him time. Aang has been like this since they first pulled him out of the iceberg at fourteen. He’s sixteen now, going on seventeen, and nothing has changed.
Katara hates this. She hates the fact that everyone in the house knows who is behind all of the mistletoe and, worse, that they all know why. She knows that she shouldn’t be so bothered by that fact. In the two years that she and Sokka have spent with Aang, gathering companions in preparation for the impending war with the Fire Nation, everyone has always been aware of Aang’s feelings for her. It was something like the worst-kept secret among the group. La, even Zuko—the newest addition to their ragtag crew—had caught onto his feelings, and that in itself is saying something when he has only been with them for five months. It’d made for an incredibly awkward conversation three months ago when he’d taken her on that little field trip of theirs to pay a visit to Yon Rha. He’d held onto her after they made it back to Appa, letting her cry out her frustrations—her sorrow—at the fact that she’d found no justice in her search. Yon Rha had long passed, they’d found. Taken by a case of septapox. Katara spent hours crying about how unfair it was that he could leave this realm without ever having to pay for his sins. Zuko listened intently, not ever trying to tell her otherwise, not trying to explain that he deserved a peaceful death just as others did. Instead, he’d merely wiped her eyes and held her. It’d been nice, until Katara had, in a state of complete delusion, decided to lean in and try to kiss him. Her nose had barely grazed his before he’d pulled back, flushing, and abruptly told her that there he was too grateful to Aang to do something like that to him.
It’d been completely embarrassing.
Months later, she’s still unable to shake the mindset that she truly is the Avatar’s ‘forever girl’. She’d been able to tolerate it before, to brush it off as Suki had said as something that would pass. But after that incident with Zuko, she’d spent days wondering whether his affections would continue to hinder her love life, until there was no other choice but to choose him. The thought was disturbing.
Worse, Aang’s attempts at her affections have now become the source of her growing irritation over the past week.
He’s usually not so bad. A flirtatious comment here. A longing look there. A hand lingering at her waist after a hug. It is usually things that she can brush off, play oblivious to, so as not to invite his eagerness. But ever since last week, he has become a bit pushy, adamant for her to admit to some sort of spark between them.
It’s all because of that awful play.
It had been Sokka’s idea to see the Ember Island Players’ depiction of the group’s journey throughout the last two years. Why he thought it was a great idea to watch a play about themselves in a Fire Nation country that was loyal to its tyrannical ruler was beyond her. Katara had even told him as such, insisting that they did not have time to waste on frivolous things like some stupid play. But as the temperature began to drop, as Autumn made way for the brisk temperature of the Yuletide, Sokka’s idea of a break from their rigorous training hadn’t sounded so bad.
It was, in fact, a mistake.
Not only had the Ember Island Players predicted that each of them would die horrendous deaths, but they had also insinuated that Katara and Zuko had a relationship that was much more than the enemies-turned-barely-there-acquaintances-turned-friends-turned-somethingKataraStartedAndZukoKilledOnTheSpot that they were. If that wasn’t bad enough, they had made it a point to spell out Katara’s lack of feelings for Aang by having her pronounce her sibling-like feelings about Aang to Zuko himself. Not that that particular point wasn’t true. But still.
It’s safe to say that the aftermath of their predicted relationship was not, in fact, well-received.
No, first Katara made the blunder of sparing his feelings, telling Aang that she was confused about how she felt towards him when he’d cornered her at the play’s intermission, rather than outright telling him that she really did only see him as a younger brother. Then, Aang went out of his way to force himself on her, to kiss her as if doing so would help her change her mind, to see reason. She’d thought pushing him back and slapping him across the face, screaming at him about boundaries and consent, would deter him, but no. Instead, he’d taken it upon himself to figure out what romantic gestures he could make to get her to see that he was serious about this. About them. About her being his forever girl. Take one throwaway conversation with Suki about how people in the Earth Kingdom tend to hang mistletoe around their homes as part of a Yuletide tradition and the notion that it’s meant for finding love and fueling romance, and suddenly Aang manages to find the damned parasite in abundance.
Great.
Life’s fucking great.
“You know,” Suki says, “I know that this is all meant for him to get a chance with you, but have you considered how this works in your favor?”
Katara raises a brow at her. “How exactly is hurling myself down the hall working in my favor? I’ve been healing myself of self-inflicted bruises all week.”
Suki looks around, as if expecting one of their friends to come jumping from around a corner, before she leans in closer to Katara.
“Because,” she says softly, “Who’s to say you won’t catch a certain someone beneath the mistletoe? It’d be your chance to finish what you started on that little field trip of yours.”
Katara shakes her head, though that doesn’t stop the flush that lines her cheeks. “He’s not interested, Suki. And I’m not forcing him into anything. Not like how Aang’s trying to.”
Suki scoffs, shaking her head as she moves to grab the tea kettle and mug.
“If that’s what you think,” she says, “Then you’re about as blind as Aang is.”
first.
“Shit.”
The curse is so quiet and breathless that Katara almost doesn’t realize that it came from directly in front of her. She hesitates to look up from the waterbending scroll in her hands, something within her telling her that the reason for the curse has something to do with her, that stupid mistletoe, and—Spirits, please not Aang anyone but Aang please—
She reluctantly lifts her gaze, but who she finds in front of her is decidedly not Aang. No, for some reason, who she finds in front of her feels much worse.
Zuko.
It takes another moment before the fact fully registers with her that it is Zuko who stands before her, just outside of the royal family library, and not Aang. A flush rises to her face when it does, and she immediately takes a step back, soundless words struggling to fall from her lips. She hadn’t considered what would happen if she got caught under the mistletoe with someone else that wasn’t Aang—not with the way that he’d seemingly been positioning himself in every doorway and bedroom hallway like some sort of trap. She’d especially never considered what would happen if she got caught under the mistletoe with Zuko.
Zuko does not seem to notice her putting distance between them, his posture stiff as he stares up at a sprig of mistletoe that dangles from the ceiling. By the look of mortification on his face, he hadn’t considered what it would mean getting caught under the mistletoe, either.
For some reason, the look on his face irritates her. Why did he look so horrified to be caught under the mistletoe with her? Was the idea of kissing her so bad? Would he rather it be someone else?
Katara presses her mouth together, desperate to curb her annoyance as Zuko’s gaze shifts between her and the mistletoe stationed on the hallway ceiling above them, red blooming across his cheeks.
“Um,” he stutters, “I—I didn’t know he put any out here—,”
Neither did she, yet she isn’t the one stuttering like a fool, is she? Katara has to bite her tongue to force back a snarky remark. She is glad that they are alone in the hallway, with no one else to witness her mounting temper. She hasn’t felt this sort of irritation towards Zuko since before they went on their little field trip to find Yon Rha. It should be concerning just how easy it is to fall back into the old habit. He just—he just—
Ugh.
Is the idea of kissing her truly that unpleasant? She keeps her mouth shut, willing her irritation not to bubble up and spew from her mouth.
She quickly wipes the questions from her mind, hating that it’d even been something she bothered to question. She shouldn’t care whether Zuko thinks the idea of kissing her is unpleasant. It doesn’t matter to her.
Her grip tightens on her scroll. This is all Aang’s fault.
Zuko opens his mouth again, ready to spout off more blithering nonsense, she’s sure, but Katara doesn’t give him the chance. Instead, she turns around so fast that she is sure that her hair smacks him in the face before she quickly makes her way back down the hallway, un-kissed, and a lot more annoyed about the blasted mistletoes than she had been from the start.
So what if Zuko doesn’t want to kiss her?
It’s not like she wants to kiss him, either.
second.
She doesn’t notice their presence until she turns around to exit the kitchen, her focus on bending the remaining soapy water from her arms and into the sink. The motion is calming and methodical, giving her extra time with her thoughts. She’d made it through the last two days without another run-in with anyone, the last time being with Suki, whom she’d quickly given a peck on the cheek before continuing into the kitchen to start on breakfast. Aang had seen them, then, and had—to her ever-mounting irritation—pouted for the entirety of breakfast about having missed his chance.
Katara pretended not to notice that the mistletoe both she and Zuko had been caught under in the hallway of the family library had mysteriously disappeared, but she definitely had. Out of all of the others, only she and Zuko spent any long amounts of time in the library. Aang would have no reason to remove it—not unless Zuko had told him about their brief time under the mistletoe, to which she is sure that he hadn’t. No, the only other person with a reason to remove it would have been Zuko himself, in an effort not to get caught under the damned sprig with her again.
She tried not to let the thought sting once she realized, but Katara will not lie in pretending that it doesn’t hurt. Was he really that desperate not to have to kiss her? Was she really that unattractive to him?
Katara bends the last of the soapy water from her arm and into the sink, haphazardly doing one final inspection before she turns to leave the kitchen.
And crashes directly into someone’s chest at the doorway.
Zuko grunts, reaching his hands out to her waist to steady her. His hands are warm against her bare midriff, his long fingers stretching towards her back.
Katara freezes at the feeling of him, every nerve in her body seeming to light up at once.
Zuko seems to realize exactly where his hands are a second later, and he quickly pulls away, his face instantly reddening as he blurts out an apology.
“Sorry—,”
“It’s okay—,”
They both stop mid-sentence, sharing an awkward look. Zuko brings a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it absently as he motions to the kitchen at her back.
“I was coming to offer my help with drying, but I can see now that you’re done already.” He explains.
Katara turns around, her eyes finding the sink, as if needing to physically see it to remind herself of what she’d just been doing.
“Right,” she says, “Yeah. Sorry.”
La, this is so awkward.
It’s been like this ever since she abandoned him in the hallway a few days ago. She is not as irritated with him as she had been that day, but she’s still taken to avoiding him. It’s not personal, she swears it’s not. It has nothing to do with how Zuko reacted to the idea of kissing her, or that it’s the second time he’s done so. Katara just…doesn’t want to find herself in a situation where she has to kiss her friends. Or her brother.
That’s all.
She shifts to step around him, eager to remove herself from the awkwardness that settles between them, but her eyes catch on a familiar something hanging from the kitchen doorframe. Her stomach drops at the sight.
“Tui and La,” she mutters.
Zuko follows her line of sight, his shoulders tensing at the sight of the mistletoe innocently dangling above them.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says, huffing out a disbelieving laugh.
This is only her third time being caught beneath the mistletoe—how is it that the majority of those times have been with Zuko?
Before either of them can move, a new voice drifts from the sitting room beyond.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Suki says from her spot at the dining table, “You’re cheating on me with Zuko now?”
“And you’re cheating on me with my sister?” Sokka chimes in. “I thought you said I was the better-looking one?”
“Sure, sweetheart,” Suki’s placating tone follows. If Katara weren’t so mortified by their situation, she’d laugh.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Toph is the one to cut in, raising her voice as she addresses them, “You two gonna smooch or what?”
“You really don’t have to,” Aang says, his voice defensive, “It’s just a stupid tradition.”
“Weren’t you the one who was adamant that we follow the rules to the letter?” Suki questions.
“Yeah,” Toph agrees, and Katara can hear the shit-eating grin on her face, “Rules are rules. Let mom and dad smooch!”
“No,” Aang says adamantly, “They’re not! Katara doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to do.”
His words cause Toph to scoff, and the two set about bickering from their place in the dining room. The sound is like white noise to her as her eyes stray to the mistletoe before them. La, they are really in this same situation again. Though this time, she can’t muster up the desire to feel irritated. That’s not even to mention that, this time, they have an audience, and will have no means of escaping without doing something. That means she will have to kiss Zuko. There’s no other way around it.
Katara is glad she can’t see their friends over Zuko’s broad frame. That would only make this so much worse. She looks up at Zuko, noting his panicked gaze and reddened cheeks as he meets her eye. He must have come to the same realization.
“We don’t have to—,” he says quietly, but cuts off as she shakes her head.
“We do,” she says quietly, before taking a step forward, rising on tiptoe. If they don’t, they will never hear the end of it. The last thing she wants is to subject herself to a day of endless taunts from Toph, Suki, and her brother.
Zuko’s eyes widen minutely as she takes a fistful of his tunic in her hand, pulling him towards her.
“K-Katara,” Zuko stutters, bewildered.
She tries not to focus on the way that her fingers graze the sculpted lines of his stomach, or the sharp intake of breath he takes as she pulls him towards her, bringing his body down to hers.
Her lips meet his cheek a moment later, and she fights the urge to flutter her eyes closed. The scent of cinnamon and cardamom reaches her senses, and she does her best not to seem as if she is inhaling it. La, why does he have to smell so good? Her eyes meet Aang’s as she begins to pull away, his lips pulled down into a frown as she lowers herself back down to the ground.
“There,” she says, ignoring the way that her voice is practically breathless. She releases her hold on his now-wrinkled tunic, meeting his shocked gaze with a half-raised brow, knowing that her own flushed cheeks showcase the shock of her own boldness. “Rules are rules, right?”
“Atta girl!” Suki cheers from the table. Her words are quickly joined by Toph’s loud cackling and Sokka’s protest of ‘oogies’. Aang’s voice is decidedly absent among the chatter. It doesn’t take much to guess why—that he is upset that she followed through with it; that he was not the one on the receiving end of her kiss.
She makes to move out of the kitchen, and this time, Zuko quickly relents, stepping aside to allow her exit. Katara quickly turns for the hallway, feeling the warmth in her cheeks strengthen as her friends continue their chatter. Now that it’s done, she can feel the way that her heart is pounding in her chest. It’s too fast, she notes, for a kiss that is not supposed to mean anything. The last thing she wants is to sit around with their friends while she isn’t even sure of what she’s feeling.
It isn’t until she makes it to her room that it dawns on her that Zuko had not said a word after.
He hadn’t even moved.
third.
“Okay, I’m starting to think you two are doing this on purpose now.” Suki laughs as she takes a wide step around them, as if stepping anywhere close to them would suck her into the latest mistletoe trap.
Zuko and Katara both turn to face the Kyoshi warrior. “We are not!” They both shout. Katara has half a mind to accuse Suki herself of setting them up like this. How is it they’ve gotten stuck like this three different times?
Suki laughs, a wide grin splitting across her face as she shakes her head. Katara can’t help the way that her face heats up, knowing that Suki may very well not believe them. Katara very well can’t blame her.
“Seriously, Suki! We’re not!” She stutters. “Do you really think we want to be here?”
“I dunno,” Suki says, her grin widening as she crosses her arms across her chest. “Seems a little too coincidental that you and Zuko keep finding yourselves like this. You have to find that a little odd.”
Katara widens her eyes at the girl, pursing her lips as if to say don’t you dare tell him I’m the one doing this. Don’t you dare—
Suki merely gives her a knowing wink.
“Or maybe you guys need to stop throwing these things up everywhere,” Zuko contradicts, gesturing around the room. There are at least five more between the hall leading to the kitchen and the sitting area itself. “It’s getting ridiculous. You can’t even step out of your room without getting caught under one. I even had to kiss Sokka this morning.”
He pauses, sharing a look with Katara as he gives a fake shiver, pulling a laugh from her. “I don’t even want to imagine where his mouth was before then.”
“Trust me,” Suki says, her grin changing into a devious smirk, “It’s best not to question it.”
Suki looks between the two before glancing around the room. It is blessedly empty outside of the three of them—the others having gone off to do their own thing hours ago.
“Well, go on and get it over with then,” Suki says, “Before you somehow gather an audience.”
Katara turns back to Zuko with wide eyes before turning back to Suki. “Really? You’re still gonna make us go through with it?”
Suki shrugs, waggling her eyebrows suggestively, “It’s just a little fun, Katara. You guys don’t even have to kiss on the lips if you don’t want to.”
She knows that, but still. It doesn’t change how odd she feels every time she’s had to do this. The first time they’d gotten caught under a mistletoe, Katara had felt so upset at Zuko’s seemingly visible disgust that she’d stormed off before anything could happen. But the second time? The second time was different. It was bad luck on her part, really. It’s as if the Spirits have it out for her; as if they are trying to get her to admit to something that she herself is not ready to do. Something she’s tried her best to practically bury since their little field trip.
As if determined to prove her sudden turn in luck, Aang chooses that moment to venture down the hallway.
“Suki?” He calls, his curious, grey gaze coming around the corner a moment later. “What’s going—oh.”
His face immediately falls as he takes in the scene before him—Katara and Zuko standing in the sitting area, a freshly hung sprig of mistletoe wedged between them.
“Well,” Suki continues, “You guys gonna chicken out? Or are you gonna lay it on him?”
“Suki,” Aang says wearily, already moving to stand beside her. Katara can tell by the way that he glances back and forth between them that what he really wants is to separate both her and Zuko, but he surprisingly keeps his distance. “She really doesn’t have to if she doesn’t want to. You saw what happened last time. She barely even wanted to kiss him on the cheek.”
Is that what he thought? Had he not noticed the way that she’d almost lost herself the last time? Had he not noticed the flush of her cheeks, the breathless quality of her voice? There is no way that Aang had witnessed the same kiss if he truly thought that she didn’t want it.
A niggling thought passes through her mind. Maybe she should go through with it this time. Maybe if Aang saw her and Zuko really kiss, he would call off this whole mistletoe business and put them all out of their misery. Maybe Zuko may realize that she wasn’t some prize on reserve for Aang.
Could she?
She shakes her head, already preparing to rid herself of the idea, when she catches the look on Zuko’s face.
His gaze surreptitiously shifts from Katara to where she knows that Aang stands, as if contemplating something. His focus shifts back to Katara a moment later, and he raises a slow, careful brow, his golden eyes locking onto hers. Katara both hates and loves the fact that she understands his meaning without him saying a word.
Is that okay with you?
She is almost surprised that he is asking, that he is not backing out right now in favor of not upsetting Aang. When she thinks of it, he hadn’t turned her down last time, either, though she supposes that she never gave him the chance to. She purses her lips, passing him a look of her own in response.
I don’t mind if you don’t.
She hopes she does not seem too eager to agree. Besides, one little kiss would be enough, right? It would be enough for Aang to learn that this mistletoe thing is stupid. It would be enough to know what Zuko’s lips actually felt against hers and be done with it.
Once should be enough. Just to get Aang off her back.
Right.
Right.
Zuko gives a short, abrupt nod before his hands are suddenly sliding across her waist, pulling her towards him. Katara’s breath catches in her throat as her chest presses against his. She brings her head back, her gaze immediately locking with his golden eyes.
“Wait, Zuko!” Aang shouts from behind her, “She didn’t agree to—,”
Whatever else he’d meant to say is lost to her as Zuko lowers his face to hers. Her eyes flutter closed of their own accord as she tilts her face up, her body acting like a magnet drawn to his every action.
Zuko huffs a quiet laugh, the breath of it ghosting over her lips, and she can’t help the way that her lips part open from the sensation, eager for him to close the distance.
There is a pause, as if he is deciding his next move, and it takes everything in Katara not to just close the distance herself and get it all done with. He beats her to it, though, as he leans in closer, his lips following the movement as he places a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth.
Her heart stutters in her chest at the sensation, and she finds herself cursing the fact that he hadn’t outright gone for her lips. La, if he was going to kiss her, why would he do it there? Why would he tease her like this? She can already feel her body responding to the contact, a shiver wracking through her frame as her nipples pebble against the cloth of her sarashi wraps.
His lips linger at the corner of her mouth for a moment before he pulls back just slightly, his lips ghosting over hers, and Katara can’t help but pull him a bit closer, her lips subconsciously reaching out for his own. He pauses there for a moment, allowing their breaths to mingle together, their noses bumping ever so slightly with one another, and Katara swears that he is contemplating kissing her outright. She finds herself wanting him to; if the racing of her heart and the sudden heat in her cheeks are anything to go by. If he won’t—La, if he doesn’t pull away soon, she will do it herself.
“Alright, that’s enough.” Aang’s hard voice is the bucket of cold water they need. “Let her breathe, Zuko.”
Zuko pulls back, loosening his grip around her waist before completely letting go. Katara tries not to think too much about how his hands seem to brush against the curve of her waist and backside as he pulls back. She tries to remind herself that it was he who’d set a boundary between them all of those months ago. That it was him who valued his friendship with Aang more than whatever—this…this feeling is between them.
She knows without a doubt it is the reason he pulled away the first time, under that first mistletoe. She knows without a doubt that had she not pulled him in that second time, he would’ve done it again. But looking at Zuko now, at the way his eyes seem to have melted into lava as he takes her in, at the way that he subconsciously pulls his bottom lip in to allow his tongue a taste of her skin, Katara suddenly realizes without a doubt that everything Zuko has been telling her has been bullshit.
He wants her, too. He’s just noble enough—loyal enough—not to act on it.
Too bad she isn’t.
fourth.
A week passes before they find each other again.
Katara doesn’t want to think about what it means that the next time they find each other is in the middle of the night—a night where the moon is full and high in the sky, and sleep has long since evaded her—a night when sleep should have found him hours ago.
Instead, it is a night that finds them standing face to face, beneath the lone mistletoe in the hallway just outside of their bedrooms.
Katara glances down at the empty porcelain cup in his hand, quickly drawing to the conclusion that he’d been on his way to the kitchen. Katara herself had just decided to head down to the beach, where a much-needed swim awaited her.
“You’re still awake,” Zuko whispers in greeting.
Katara gestures to the left, where the floor-to-ceiling window bathes them in moonlight. “Full moon.” She says.
Zuko nods. “Right,” he says, “Water bender.”
“Right,” she laughs.
They stand there, slightly awkward, as if trying to find something else to say to each other. It’d always been like this—ever since Yon Rha, at least. But in the last week, it has become even harder to form words around him. All that she’s wanted to do is talk about that kiss last week, about whether or not Zuko truly meant it back then when he said he did not think they were a good idea; that he could not cross his dear friend. All she wanted to do was tell him that she didn’t care, not about Aang’s feelings on this. She should not subject herself to a lifetime of unhappiness just to spare his feelings. She should be allowed to chase after the things that she wants. Aang is not one of them, and time will not help to change the fact.
“Mistletoe.” Zuko’s voice snaps her back to attention. She focuses her gaze back on him, confused at his response, and he gestures to the space above them. “We’re under a mistletoe.”
Huh. Had that been there this morning?
She’s sure it hadn’t been. Katara hasn’t stopped tearing down every mistletoe she runs across around the house. She’d notice if one was hung up between her and Zuko’s rooms.
Wouldn’t she?
“Think Suki’s the one behind it?” She asks. There is no way Aang would’ve put one here.
Zuko shrugs. “Or Toph,” he says. “The two of them seem capable of this sort of chaos.”
She hums in agreement, not bothering to correct him on the culprit. If anyone, it was Suki. Toph doesn’t seem to care too much about setting them up more so than the chaos the mistletoe causes as a whole. So far, she’d been the only one who managed to get out of kissing anyone. She always knew exactly where to step around the blasted things and avoid getting caught under them.
“I guess we don’t have to,” Katara says carefully, focusing on everything but the mistletoe and Zuko’s curious gaze. “Since, you know, everyone else is asleep. They’ll never know that we didn’t do it.”
“Yeah,” Zuko says, and she hates the way that his answer makes her deflate, “Or we could just do it.”
“Yeah, we should—,” she pauses, her eyes snapping to his, “What?”
Zuko shrugs, a faint blush settling on his cheeks. He reaches a hand to the back of his neck, scrubbing it through the short hairs at his nape. “We could just…do it? I mean—this is the fourth time this has happened. It kind of feels like fate telling us to—”
“To what?” She cuts in. “Kiss each other?” She is sure that it is more so Suki than fate.
“W-well, yeah,” Zuko stutters, and he is outright blushing now. La, she swears the sight of it is about ready to make her melt.
“And that doesn’t bother you?” She presses. “That fate is pressing us together? Do you want to kiss me or something?”
La, please say yes. She’s not sure if she would be able to take it if he didn’t say yes.
“I-it’s just a yule tradition, Katara—“ Zuko stammers, shuffling on his feet.
“Oh, is it?” She tilts her head at him, taking a step closer. Zuko takes a step back in response, as if unsure of himself despite his words. He cannot sit here and try to fool her into thinking that his suggestion is merely due to some stupid tradition. Not after the way he’d looked at her the other night. Not anymore.
Zuko swallows. “Yes—,”
“No,” her quiet response cuts cleanly through the space between them, “Don’t.”
His tongue darts out to wet his lips, “Don’t what?” He asks. The words come out more hoarse than normal, and she almost dares herself to find out what he’s really feeling; to reach out, feel the beat of his heart, and whether it is going as fast as she believes it to be.
“Don’t hide behind that,” Katara says, tipping her chin toward the ceiling, where the mistletoe hangs just above them. The leaves of the sprig sway just slightly, as if taunting them. “Don’t pretend that the only reason you’d want to is because of some stupid Earth Kingdom tradition. That’s a lie, and you know it.”
His grip tightens around the cup in his hand. His next words seem to take some effort to release, and barely come out above a whisper. “I’m not pretending.”
Katara takes in a deep breath before slowly exhaling it. She’s cool. She’s calm. That is absolutely not her body that’s shaking; just a tiny earthquake.
“Don’t lie to me, Zuko,” she says, “Please, just tell me the truth, because I’m tired of guessing. I’m tired of everyone trying to make decisions for me. I’m tired of you thinking that you need to cater to someone else’s feelings just because they think I should feel a certain way. It’s not fair to me. Not to how I actually feel.”
She pauses, considering whether she should say what she wants to, before ultimately deciding to just throw caution to the wind. The conversation is out there already. “And it’s not fair to how you truly feel, either, is it?”
Zuko stiffens at her words, as if caught in the act of something that he shouldn’t have been involved in. His gaze drops to her lips of their own accord. It is brief, and yet Katara can see the strength he has to conjure to force his gaze away; to force himself to look back into her eyes.
“I shouldn’t,” his voice is strained when he speaks, “That’s the truth.”
She releases a huff, and her pulse shoots into her throat. It takes a few more breaths before she can speak again, her cheeks blooming with red as indignation rises within her. “Because of Aang?”
Zuko flinches at the name, and that alone answers her question.
Katara’s jaw tightens, a brief surge of anger lancing through her. It is not that she’s mad at him. No, it’s that she’s mad at the predicament that Aang has put them in. The need to cater to his whims—because he is the Avatar; because it is on his shoulders to end this war. That means no one can stray from the roles he has created for them all, whether they are roles that they wanted or not.
“He shouldn’t get to decide this,” she says, “And he doesn’t get to decide anything about my choices.”
His throat bobs at that. “I know. You’re right.”
“Am I?” Katara takes another step closer to him. He takes another step back, his back hitting the closed door of his room. The porcelain cup in his hand clinks against the wood with a dull thud.
She can feel the heat emanating from his skin in the thin space left between them. The warmth of his body draws her closer to him, calling her to press her body against his. She barely refrains from listening to it.
“Because to me,” she says, “It feels like you’re doing exactly what Aang is doing. Treating me like it’s inevitable that I end up with him. Treating me like I’m already spoken for.” Katara laughs, the sound sharp and humorless. “Like all I’m meant for is to be his ‘forever girl’.”
His jaw clenches at the title, and she wonders whether the claim bothers him just as much as it has her over the years.
“What?” She says, mentally pushing him to come out with it already. “Isn’t that what you wanted, too? For Aang to get his happy ending?”
“Katara—,” Zuko’s tone is a warning one, but she won’t back down from this.
“Tell me the truth, Zuko,” She presses, “Tell me why you shouldn’t, then. If it’s not because of Aang, then because of what?”
She takes one last step toward him, closing the distance between their chests. Zuko sucks in a breath at the feeling of her against him, at the feeling of her hand as it skims down his front, lightly exploring the hard planes of him over his tunic.
“Tell me it’s because you don’t want me,” she whispers.
Something shifts in his golden gaze, and it takes Katara a moment to place the look as one of desire. Of longing. Of anticipation. This is not the look of the man who had been her enemy all of those months ago. This is not the look of the man who told her that he could not accept her advances because of his friend. No, this is the look of a man who has craved her; perhaps for longer than she’d known.
His free hand wraps around her waist, pressing her flush against him. Katara gasps at their sudden closeness. She can feel every hard line of his stomach against hers; deliciously worse, she can feel his growing hardness poking against her.
“You know that’s not true,” His words are raspy and deep, “You know that, Katara.”
“Then stop acting like you don’t,” Katara says. She lifts herself onto her tiptoes, her hands finding his jaw before she can think on it further. Her left hand settles against the edge of his scar with careful tenderness. He does not stiffen from her touch more than melt into it.
“So if I asked you to kiss me,” she says slowly, her breath now mingling with his, “Would you? Not because of some stupid mistletoe, but because you wanted to.”
Zuko squeezes his eyes shut, as if he is bracing himself to release a truth that has been burrowed within him for a long time now. She can see the answer in his eyes when he opens them again, his gaze steady and sure.
“Yes,” he says, breathless. “Yes.”
He leans forward, his nose gently bumping against hers. Katara shudders at the feeling of his lips as they brush against hers once more. She has been dreaming of the feeling all week, trying her best to imagine what it would feel like to have his lips fully pressed against hers.
“Does that bother you?” She whispers against his lips, “Wanting me?”
“It terrifies me,” Zuko roughly admits.
“Because I—,” He cuts himself off, swallowing. “Because I’ve wanted you so badly. For so long. And I’m afraid of what will happen if I get what I want.”
Her heart stutters.
“Don’t be afraid,” she murmurs. “Not of me.”
His eyes are hooded now, the gold of his gaze darkening into something deeper. His other hand makes its way around her waist, the cold press of his forgotten cup pressing into her back. She doesn’t mind it, though. Not when it seems like any mention of the world outside them will pull him out of this moment. Katara is not willing to take that chance.
“I’m not, but—,” he starts, but she shakes her head.
“Don’t be afraid,” she repeats, “Not when this is me choosing you. Not when this is what I want, too.”
His breath stutters in his chest, just as she takes the opportunity to close the distance.
The touch of their lips is soft at first, exploratory in touch, and tentative. Neither of them moves at first, as if almost afraid of the contact they’ve made—their lips merely meet in a chaste, sweet kiss. It still leaves Katara melting against him. She can taste the remnants of tea—cinnamon with a spiced citrus on his lips, and struggles not to deepen the kiss for more. She will not rush this. She will not scare him away. Instead, she revels in the feel of him and the fact that this is not the work of some mistletoe bringing them together, but rather the work of two people with feelings for each other.
It is, surprisingly, Zuko who deepens the kiss, and suddenly the kisses go from gentle to rough and greedy. Katara’s hands move from his cheeks to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, her mouth opening to his as he swipes his tongue across her bottom lip. Zuko, in turn, bunches his fingers into the fabric of her borrowed sleeping gown, his hands dipping from the curve of her waist to her backside. His tongue slides inside of her, brushing against hers in greeting, and Katara’s knees almost buckle as he lets out a rough groan from the feeling.
Neither of them pays any mind to the sound of porcelain shattering against the floor as his hands knead into the curve of her ass, pulling her tighter against him. The presence of his cock is more prominent now, and Katara cannot help the moan that escapes her lips at the feeling of it; at the feeling of him. It takes everything in her not to jump into his arms, not to wrap her legs around his waist and let him guide her, backwards, into his bedroom.
Her fingers release their hold from around his neck, trailing down his chest—lower, lower—
Zuko makes a choked sound in the back of his throat before he breaks the kiss. His breathing is ragged as he pulls away, just enough so that their mouths part. She is almost embarrassed to say that she follows his movements, managing a few pecks to his lips before he pulls away once more, shaking his head. Zuko rests his forehead against hers as he squeezes his eyes shut.
Katara blinks up at him, almost dazed. “Zuko?”
His hands tighten around her backside, making her gasp as she feels him press against her once more.
“I want you,” Zuko breathes, the words seeming to tumble out of him. “Agni, I want you so bad. But we can’t do this here. Not right now. And if I don’t stop right now, I can’t promise you I’ll have the restraint to do it later.”
She pulls in a breath, nodding absently as she moves her hands back up to his neck. She shakily exhales a second later, noting how erratic her breathing has become.
“Yeah, alright,” she says, “You’re right. We shouldn’t.”
He slowly removes his hands from her ass, encircling her waist once more. When he opens his eyes to look at her, she notes that his pupils have long since blown wide, his gaze dark and wanting.
“This is not me saying that I don’t want to,” he whispers against her lips, “Because Spirits, Katara, do I want to. But I don’t want our first to be like this. I want to take my time with you.”
Her breath catches as he catches her lips with his once more, in a quick, sensual kiss. La, if she wasn’t wet before, she definitely is now.
She can’t wait for him to make good on his words.
Katara waits until they break apart before she answers him. “I’m holding you to that.”
Zuko laughs against her lips. “Good.” He says, brushing his nose against hers. “Because I can’t promise you I can wait that long.”
His thumbs stroke her waist in gentle, slow circles. The feeling of it grounds her in the moment, reminding her that this is real—that she is standing in the arms of the Prince of the Fire Nation, and he is not shying away from her.
Katara lowers herself back onto the balls of her feet before leaning forward to press her forehead against his collarbone. Zuko’s warmth immediately seeps into her.
“I don’t want you to,” she murmurs into his skin. “Just…please don’t change your mind in the morning.”
His answer is immediate, certainty laced in his tone. “I won’t.”
She doesn’t have to force herself to believe him. She just does.
Katara lingers against him for a moment longer, committing the feeling of him to memory—the rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of him beneath her cheek, and the faint scent of cinnamon and spicy citrus that clings to him from his tea. The world around them is quiet as they stay like that for a moment, blissfully distant.
After a moment, she straightens up, her hands slipping from his neck to his chest, before slowly slipping from his person altogether. Zuko lets her go, though by the strain of his gaze, she can tell that he doesn’t want to. His gaze follows her as she takes a small step back from him, back towards her room.
“I should try to sleep,” she says quietly, all thoughts of the beach long quashed. La knows that’s a lie. If she couldn’t sleep before, there is no way she will be able to now.
“Yeah,” Zuko says quietly, his gaze unconsciously flicking to her mouth. “Yeah, you should.”
Katara catches the movement, and she has to stop herself from closing the distance between them again.
“Zuko,” she warns, though his name falls from her lips in more of a breathless plea than anything else.
He understands her meaning, though, nodding imperceptibly as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.
“I know,” he says as he releases his lip. “I know. I—I should go, too.”
Neither of them makes a move to leave. Katara figures that she should make the first move. She takes another step to her door, and then another, before she addresses him again.
“Goodnight, Zuko,” she says softly.
She turns toward her door before she can do something stupid like closing the distance between them once more. She does not turn around until she slips into her room and closes the door gently behind her, turning to lean her forehead against the cool wood.
On the other side of the door, she can just make out the sound of Zuko, exhaling one quiet, frustrated breath, as if he is trying to remind himself how to breathe.
She smiles.