Actions

Work Header

i can feel it in my bones

Work Text:

Fuse (verb): to join or blend to form a single entity.

~0~

Zuko is not planning on going home with anyone tonight. First off, he’s got a class at eight a.m. tomorrow, and he’s not planning on getting too drunk. In fact, he’s going to try to aim to be stone cold sober, but he’s with Jet tonight, which means alcohol is inevitable. Jet is pushy when he’s drunk, and Zuko’s probably gonna have to do a shot or two to get him off his back.

Figuratively and literally speaking. He’s hooked up with Jet only once, and that was when the idiot got him absolutely plastered. There’s probably some legal thing about consent all mixed up in there, but he and Jet are friends, and he’d been a good lay, and neither had regretted it too much the next day, although Jet did guilt Zuko into getting him coffee and Advil for his back.

So here Zuko is, sitting at the bar in the dance club, a popular spot for all the drunk college students, drinking his club soda and trying not to shoot his brains out. Jet is trying hard to flirt with a cute girl at the end of the bar. She looks just as bored as Zuko is, and he lets his eyes roll lazily over her figure, from her long, shapely legs, her toned stomach, to her narrowed golden eyes, dark hair done up in space buns. Jet’s trying his absolute hardest to be charming, but he’s already pretty drunk, and she is not amused.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he lazily reaches for it, wistfully wishing his soda was vodka. He's got a notification from Chan about a house party he's throwing with some of the girls in his major, and he's extending an invitation to Zuko. But Chan is also low-key hooking up with Zuko's little sister, Azula, and as much as Zuko appreciates a house party, he's not in the mood to see his sister shacking up with his acquaintance. He taps out a response, sighing, and wonders who in their right mind holds a party on a Sunday , but then again, he's out drinking- no, supervising- Jet while he tries, and fails, to get laid.

By now, the girl with the space buns has left, and now Jet is currently wiggling his brows at a tall boy, with thick eyebrows and dark eyes. It's the tattoo, Zuko realizes, noting the bow and arrow ink painted into the boy's forearm. He's known Jet long enough now to know his type: tall, dark-haired, probably mysterious. Tattoos are a bonus. The boy seems slightly interested, leaning into to listen to whatever Jet is saying, and Zuko rolls his eyes.

Space-buns girl is now on the dance floor, rolling her hips to the music. Zuko's eyes land on the tantalizing skin of her stomach. She smirks, meeting his gaze, and he's almost tempted to abandon his position by the bar in the hopes of catching her name, maybe taste the sweat glistening on her skin. But then her grin turns wicked, and she shakes her head at him, turning to grab a girl with a long ponytail, and his jaw drops as she presses her lips against the girl's.

Well, he wasn't expecting that. Space-buns girl's eyes glint, and he raises his glass in salute, turning away and leaving her to her prize. Good for her, he muses, setting his glass down on the bar. He doesn't need a distraction. By now, Jet has upped the ante, his hand resting on the taller boy's chest, his lips dangerously close to the boy's throat, and Zuko thinks he's going home alone tonight.

“He’s trying awfully hard,” a girl’s voice quips behind Zuko. He snorts, rolls his eyes, and takes another sip of his drink.

“You should have seen him before, I thought it was gonna take him all night to figure out he wasn't wanted. This one shows some promise,” Zuko says, turning around to greet this stranger. When he sees her, though, his heart comes crashing to a halt, his brain a trainwreck of emotions as he tries to compose himself. He remembers his earlier promise to himself- he’s not going to flirt, he’s not going to get drunk, and he’s not going to fuck someone.

But this girl. Fuck, she’s fucking hot.

She smiles, unaware of his inner turmoil, and squeezes herself into the narrow space between Zuko and the bar. Zuko stares, watching the lights dance across her bare shoulders, the way her hair falls down her back and frames her face, the way her lips glisten. He blinks, realizing he’s probably gaping like an idiot , and forces himself to look away. The girl leans over the bar, giving Zuko a beautiful eyeful of her cleavage, and orders a gin and tonic. She looks over at him, biting her lip, and blinks her glitter covered lashes at him.

“Do you know him?” she asks, and Zuko realizes her eyes are blue, blue, blue, like the ocean by his home. She gets her drink, putting the straw between her lips, and Zuko’s distracted again, hypnotized by her full lips and the way her throat moves as she swallows. There’s a blue choker around her neck, and he’s got the sudden urge to replace it with his lips, wondering if she tastes as good as she looks.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, blinking slowly. He shakes his head, trying to get the blood moving up there and less down there . “He’s my housemate.”

She laughs. “Oh shit,” she says. “This a daily thing for you guys?”

Zuko shrugs, focusing on the bar and less on her, and her brown, toned legs, her stomach, and the silvery tank top that exposes way too much skin for Zuko not to notice. “Honestly, I’d rather him fawning over someone else. The last time he drank this much, I woke up in his bed.”

The girl blinks. “Oh,” she says, and blushes prettily. Zuko wonders what other parts of her flush that pretty, pretty pink. “Are you...?”

“Bi,” he supplies, taking another sip of his soda. “Or, glorified babysitter. Take your pick.”

She laughs, and presses herself into Zuko’s shoulder. “You’re funny. I like you.”

Fuck. He’s in so much trouble. He flags the bartender. He’s screwed no matter what, in the form of a she-devil with deep blue eyes and a body like an hourglass. Might as well go all the way. “Vodka,” he grumbles, jerking his head towards the girl. “For me, and uh-”

“Katara,” she says, and he rolls her name over his tongue, wondering what it would sound like moaned off his lips. “Thank you.”

He nods, clinking his shot glass with hers and downing it. The alcohol burns pleasantly down his throat and he blinks rapidly. Katara clears her throat, setting her glass down, and raising a brow in his direction. He coughs, setting his glass down, and orders another round.

He’s so fucking screwed. 

But the thing is, he’s so distracted by the slope of her neck, and the perfume she wears that smells like fresh water. He’s hypnotized by the way her eyes dance in the light, the way her lips purse on her glass, the way she touches his arm with flitting fingers. He can read the room, and knows she’s into him, with the way she’s leaning into his chest, how her lips graze his ear when she whispers, how her eyes flash when they dart to his lips.

She tells him she's an international relations major, but she's considering switching over to pre-med. She's from the south, close to the poles, and she tells him the temperate weather of Ba Sing Se is like a tropical paradise compared to the icy tundra of her homeland.

"I wasn't supposed to come here tonight," she tells him, sipping from her drink. She gestures over to the dance floor, where a girl with short auburn hair is shaking her hips to the music, laughing and dancing with a boy with brown skin and deep blue eyes. "But Suki, the girl dancing with that boy? It's her birthday, and that boy is my brother, and I was forced to come."

Zuko laughs. "Well it certainly seems like a hardship for you," he tells her, and her eyes crinkle. He gestures to her drink, and she laughs. "You must be bored out of your mind."

She chuckles. "I was, at first," she murmurs, and licks her lips. Eyes twinkling, she shifts closer to him, close enough for him to smell the lime on her breath and the glitter coating her lashes. "But not so much anymore."

Zuko grins, brushing his shoulder against hers. "I wonder what that could be."

"Mhmm," she murmurs, and her eyes are dark. They continue to talk, whispered words against heated skin, and Zuko forgets about Space-buns girl, and Jet and his tall, dark and handsome, and focuses on this girl with eyes like the ocean. He tells her he's a business major with a minor in sociology, and when he's had a bit more to drink, he tells her that her eyes are like starlight. She laughs, leaning in close, and he loses himself in the galaxies across her gaze.

He’s on his fourth-fifth?-shot of vodka when a song comes over the loudspeaker, making her body tense and her head jolt up from it’s place nestled in his neck. A man’s voice croons, touch me tease me fill me up, Katara leaps to her feet.

“Oh my fucking god,” she shouts, grabbing at his hands. “I love this song!” She pulls him out of his seat and onto the dance floor, and Zuko feels his cheeks burn when she leans in. “Dance with me,” she breathes, lips ghosting across his cheek. “Please.”

Well, he’s already going to hell. Might as well enjoy this while it lasts.

He places his hands on her hips, thumbing along the bare skin above her waistband. She hums, eyes blazing, and raises her arms above her head, body rolling to the heavy bass. Zuko doesn’t pay attention to the son, keeping his eyes on Katara, who rolls her hips into his and runs her hands up and down her body. Fuck, he thinks, eyes following her movements as she runs her fingers over the sides of her breasts. This girl is going to be the fucking death of me.

She leans in close, and he can smell the vodka on her breath. “Oh tell me babe,” she sings along to the music. “Tell me how you like it babe,” and Zuko wants to die. The blood is rushing to all parts of his body, and she whirls, putting her back to him, and pressing all the way against him. 

He leans down, running his lips along her throat, placing open-mouthed kisses along her skin. She sighs, reaching up with one hand and burying it in his hair, holding him in place as she grinds her hips into him. He groans, gripping her waist and rolling his hips into hers, setting a quick, dirty pace that has her gasping, the hand in his hair tightening pleasantly.

“Fuck,” she whispers, and he grins into her neck. “Keep doing that.”

The pulsing light and the pounding beat sets a good rhythm. He grips her hips, digging his fingers into her skin as he quickens his pace, grinding his hips so that little fireworks of pleasure burst from where they are joined. She gasps, head lolling back to rest on his shoulder, and he meets her ocean blue gaze, eyes lidded and lips parted.

Fuck. "Wanna get out of here?" He rasps, pressing another kiss to her neck. He feels her intake of breath and skims his fingers along the waistband of her shorts, dipping under it to dance along the untouched skin there. She hisses.

"Fuck yes," and whirls around, wrapping her arms around his neck and sealing a brusing kiss to his lips. He groans and pulls her close, her fingers dancing at the skin on the back of his neck, and a part of him almost can't wait, wants to taste her to the pulse of the lights and the pounding of the bass echoing around them.

But he's a gentleman. He much prefers a bed to standing, and judging from the looks she's giving him, she feels the same way. So he grabs her hand and leads her off the dance floor, slapping some money down on the bar to cover his tab, before ushering her out, hailing a cab.

The ride back to his place is short, but Zuko can tell he's giving their driver one hell of a time. Katara's sprawled in his lap, whispering in his ear, and his hands are definitely wandering. The cab driver turns the music up loud several times, but Zuko is too drunk and in love to care.

They stumble out of the cab outside of Zuko's apartment, and he tips the driver generously for what he had to go through. Then he's shuffling Katara through the doors and into the elevator, where he reacquaints himself with her lips. She giggles and presses herself against him, her breath hot and thick. He groans and presses her into the wall, hands slamming on either side of her head, caging her in. One leg wraps around his waist, hitching over his hip, and he groans as she presses herself against the hard length of him, rolling her hips just right. He grabs at the smooth length of her thigh, fingers digging into her rich brown skin, and she moans lowly against his lips.

It's a miracle they make it to his apartment really. He fumbles with his keys, brain fuzzy as Katara presses a swath of kisses into his throat, her hands wandering under his shirt. "Come on," she murmurs, hands slipping inside of his waistband, rising to run over the muscles of his abs, making his breath jump. "Come on." 

"Fuck," he breathes, as soon as they get into his apartment. "Bed. Now."

He grunts, pulls her to him, and kisses her, long and dirty. She moans, grinding into him, and he huffs, hoisting her up so she's pressed against him. She wraps her legs around his waist and he stumbles, not once separating their lips as he makes his way down the hall to the bedroom.

The moonlight softly illuminates his room, and he stumbles, dropping her on the bed. She glows silver, her eyes brightly, eerily blue, and he stands above her, biting his lip as he takes her in. She smiles up at him, reaching out a hand, and whispers, "Come here."

He curses, reaching for the hem of his shirt. She stares at him, eyes roving over his muscles greedily, and he smirks, crawling up onto the bed. Her hands immediately find his skin, tracing lightly over his abs and scratching the vee of his hips. He sucks in a breath.

"Oh fuck," he says. He pulls her up, pressing a quick kiss to her throat before pulling at the hem of her tank top. "Your turn."

She laughs at his impatience, and helps him pull her shirt off. She's got a black lace bra on, and he's already thinking of several different ways he can tear it off of her, but she beats him to it, unclasping it and letting it fall to the mattress.

Is he drooling? He thinks he might be drooling.

She rolls her eyes. "Get over here," she hisses, and reaches for his hand. He startles, and they fall to the bed, his hand on her breasts and her licking a sloppy path up his neck. He rolls her breast in his hand, flicking her nipple, and she moans.

"Fuck, I love your hands," she says, and he grins, lowering his head to her chest. Her eyes follow his movements, dark and lidded, and her mouth parts. He kisses her breast, laving his tongue across her nipple, and she keens, her body arching into his.

Zuko might be in heaven. He loves boys and girls equally, but breasts? He's got a big thing for breasts.

He abandons her breast, giving her one more kiss before traveling down, flicking the button of her shorts open and running his teeth across her skin. She moans, hands flying down to his hair, and she runs her fingers through the raven soft strands.

"What do you want?" Zuko murmurs, and she arches her hips, helping him drag the shorts off. He thumbs her through her panties, already damp, and the heady smell of girl invades his senses. "Tell me what you like."

"Fuck."

He laughs. "Well yes," he says. "That's the main event."

She cries out as he lowers his face, placing a kiss over her mound through her underwear. "What do you want, Katara?" He whispers, gently pulling her underwear to the side. "Mouth, or hands?"

"Oh spirits I hate you."

He chuckles, and breaths hot air over her, making her keen. "No you don't. But you gotta choose."

She raises her head weakly, glaring at him with all the strength she can muster. "Are you always this mouthy when you fuck- fuck-" she breaks off with a low moan, dropping her head back as he runs his fingers down her moist slit. He smirks, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh.

"Fingers it is," he says. He taps her hips, and she instinctively raises her body, giving him the chance to tug her lace thong off. He throws it over his shoulder, and now she's bare before him. 

She cries out, and he pushes her legs out to the side, pinning them with his body. He can smell her arousal, thick and heady, and it makes his blood rush south. He presses his mouth against her inner thigh and parts her folds, making her suck in a breath. He grins, breathing heavily down on her, and finds her clit almost immediately. She moans, and he rubs it with his thumb, slicking his fingers up with her. He raises his head, looks up to her to find her eyes pinned on him, one hand cupping her breast and tweaking her nipple. The sight of it is so hot, and Zuko feels his pants tightening even further. She bites her lip and grins.

He runs his fingers along her slit, and her breath hitches as he holds her open. A moan slips through her lips as he rubs her clit with his thumb, and he slides a finger into her. She cries out, and he pumps his finger a few times before pulling away. She groans, bereft and needy, and tries to follow his hand. He takes, holding her hips down with one hand, and kisses her thigh. "Patience, Katara," he tells her, licking his finger, making her pant. "Is a virtue."

"Not my strong suit," she gasps, reaching for his head and pushing him down. "Please, hurry up. I can't take it anymore." 

He relents and bends his head back down, lowering his face to her folds. Her breath hitches and he puts his mouth to her, finding her clit with his tongue and teeth, making her wail. She's so wet for him that it's easy to slip one finger in her, and she clamps down on him, making him moan. She's so tight. She's gonna feel amazing on his dick.

He keeps his attention on her clit until she's crying out, tensing around his fingers. She comes hard and fast, clamping down on him, and the sight of her, skin flushed and eyes closed, mouth open in bliss, is almost enough for Zuko too. But he'd rather be coming inside her.

She comes down from her high, flopping onto her back, chest heaving. Zuko pulls out from her and she moans, eyes clamping shut. He grins, wiping his mouth, and crawls back up her body, undoing his pants to relieve the pressure.

She opens her eyes when he comes back, pulling him down for a messy clash of lips and teeth. "Fuck," she breathes into his mouth, and reaches down, shoving his pants down over his hips and delving inside his boxers to grip him firmly.

He buries his face in her shoulder. "Wow. You're the fucking best." 

She laughs. "I'm sure you say that to all the girls who give you hand jobs."

He chuckles, but finds it hard to focus when her hands are stroking him just right. He manages to choke out a "guys too," before he moans, dropping his head back down.

Her hands are sure on him, and she shoves him off her, settling him on his back. She hovers over him, and he reaches out cupping her breasts and thumbing over her nipples. She moans, arching her back and throwing her head back, and he sits up, kissing along her throat and jaw.

“Mhmm,” she mumbles, running her fingers down his chest. “You feel good.”

He smirks. “Wait until I’m inside you.”

She smiles, kissing him hard, her fingers digging into his skin. He breathes her in, tasting the desperation on her tongue, and moans when her hands find him, stroking the length of him. She pulls away from his mouth, and he chases her, but she shoves him down. He glances down at her, where she hovers over him, eyes glinting with mischief.

“You had your fun,” she murmurs. “Now it’s my turn.”

He protests, wanting nothing more to bury himself in her, but swallows down the groan that threatens to explode when she puts her mouth on him. He sighs, feeling her take him deeper, and cries out when she laves her tongue around the head, flicking against it the same way he did to her. He digs his fingers into her hair, gazes into her blue blue eyes, and she takes him deeper into her mouth, wrapping her hands around the rest of him. Fuck, he thinks hazily. The protest retires to an early grave.

He pulls her off after a moment, and she whines. He smiles, kissing her hard, tasting himself on her lips. “Come on,” he whispers. “I can’t wait.”

She huffs against his mouth. “Condoms?”

“Nightstand, top drawer.”

She fumbles around, searching through his drawer, and he busies himself with her again, kissing along her chest and sliding his fingers through her folds. She tenses against him, mewling softly, but continues her search, until she pushes him back and procures the thin foil, ripping it with her teeth. He almost laughs at her impatience, but then her hands are on him again, and he can’t think straight.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he gasps, and she grins. She bends down, kissing him hard, and lines him up with her, sinking down slowly. They moan together, and Zuko feels like he could combust right there, but he doesn't stop her. He grabs at her hips, digging little crescent moons into her skin, and groans. She keeps sinking, until she’s flush against his hips, and there’s a mind numbing heat surrounding him. He gasps, looking up at her, nodding quickly when she's bottomed out. She’s biting her lip, eyes heavy with desire, and he reaches up, pulling her down. 

The room is silent for the briefest of moments, just the steady rhythm of their breathing, the pounding of Zuko's heart echoing in his ears. Katara is pressed against him, her mouth moving in tandem with his and Zuko wants her pressed against him forever. Even more so.

She begins slowly, at first grinding her hips purposefully against him in a way that makes him want to scream. His hands are everywhere, thumbing along her hips and breasts, settling on her ass and helping her move. He grits his teeth as she ruts against him, and he feels a tightness settling in his stomach. 

She picks up the pace, slamming down and gyrating her hips against his, making his back arch off the mattress. He pants, the lust sinking into his bones, and he snaps his hips up in response, reaching for her breasts, thumbing at her nipples. She's the most alluring sight he's ever seen, a dark beauty dancing above him, and Zuko could die in these next few moments and he'd die happy .

She pants above him, a sweaty sheen painting her breasts and shoulders. She slips, hands falling against his, and she grunts, bracing herself against his headboard. She fucks him with renewed vigor, biting her lip to prevent the moans slipping from her lips. He frowns. Can't have that. He slides a hand from her breasts down to her clit, rubbing small circles around the sensitive bud in a way that'll drive her crazy.

"I want to hear you," he murmurs, flicking against her clit, and she releases her lip, a moan tumbling out. It's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.

He can tell when she tires when he feels the trembling in her legs, the way she pants as she draws near her orgasm. He’s close too, can feel it in the tightness in his core, the pleasure mounting, and the blood boiling in his veins. He sits up, settling one arm across her back. Her eyes widen as he flips them, a yelp tearing its way out of her lips as she settles on the bed. His eyes glint, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to her lips. “My turn.”

He thrusts, hard and fast. She cries out, arms reaching for him, and he leans in, letting her wrap her arms around his back, digs her nails in his skin. He pants, reaching down and circling her clit with his hand, and she keens. “Come on, Katara,” he whispers, running his lips down her neck, biting at the suede hugging her throat. He peppers kisses along the choker, sucking at her skin until he's sure bruises blossom in his wake. “Come for me, come on.”

He keeps up the filthy montage in her ear, praising her, telling her she’s amazing, and so good, and that she makes him feel good. He’s close to finishing himself, his hips stuttering against hers as he slams into her. He groans, low in her ear, and bites down. His fingers are rubbing madness into her clit, and he can feel the moment she comes, the way she clamps down on him, the way her entire body tenses and she cries out. It’s enough to send him over the edge, and he comes with a long moan, drawn out in the crook of her neck.

Katara goes limp, and he pulls out, tying off the condom and throwing it to the floor. He can deal with that later, but right now, he’s got a cute girl in his bed, and he wants nothing more than to cuddle and sleep. If she’s up for it.

She lies there, chest heaving, and he lowers himself down next to her, finding her hand. “You okay?” he asks. “Can I get you anything?”

She shakes her head. “I’m great. That was... great,” she trails off, eyes meeting his, and he’s got the sudden urge to kiss her. So he does, leaning in and cupping her cheek, taking her bruised bottom lip between his. The kiss is soft and slow, and she leans in, gripping his wrist, fingers dancing across his skin.

She pulls away. “Can you stay?” Zuko asks. She blinks, looking at him curiously. 

“Really?”

He nods. “It’s late, and I don’t want you to have to deal with after midnight traffic,” he says. “Plus, I’m a major cuddler. Don’t deny me that.”

She laughs, which makes Zuko’s heart flutter. “Alright,” she says, and Zuko crows. “I’ll stay. Now point me to the bathroom.”

He directs her to the bathroom, and she leaves in a whirlwind of chestnut hair and wild blue eyes. Zuko catches his breath as she shuts the door, then dives for his dresser, pulling out a worn t-shirt for her and new boxers for him. While he’s at it, he straightens the sheets, pulling off the soiled top sheet, and fluffs out the comforter.

Jet’s gonna kill him once he finds out. 

Katara wanders back out from the bathroom, and Zuko takes a minute to look at her, the way her hair falls over her breasts, her toned, brown stomach, the love bites peppering her shoulder. He’s grinning stupidly by the time she walks over to him, and doesn’t hesitate to kiss her, swallowing her little yelp of surprise. Her arms come up and cage him in, and Zuko swears, swears he’s not falling in love.

He’s definitely lying to himself, but that’s something he can worry about tomorrow. Right now, all he wants to do is fall into bed with this beautiful girl and cuddle.

He runs to the bathroom, brushing his teeth in record time, before making his way back to the bedroom. Katara has settled under his covers, wearing his shirt, and it looks so good on her, like it was meant for her. In fact, the entire scene, Katara, with his shirt hanging off her shoulder, lying in his bed, tugs at Zuko’s heart. He could get used to this.

He slides into bed with her, tucking her under his chin and wrapping an arm around her stomach. She sighs, settling down, and he nuzzles into her hair. “Do you have class tomorrow?” he asks sleepily. She shakes her head. 

“Not until three.”

He yawns. “Okay. I have class early in the morning, but I’m done by noon, if you’d like to grab lunch.”

“Are you asking me out?” She’s got the nerve to sound surprised. That little minx- how does she not know he’s basically in love with her at this point? He’s got to step up his game.

“No, I’m asking the ghost in the corner if they’d like to get lunch.”

He can feel her frown. “Oh. Well, that ghost is definitely traumatized now, after that show we put on. Hope you’re happy.”

Fuck . Zuko’s a goner.

He laughs. “I’m sure he’ll survive. So lunch?”

She chuckles. “Fine,” she says. “But I need to get to my apartment tomorrow. Before lunch.”

“Great. Make sure you leave your number before you go.”

She does him one better, and steals his phone, putting her contact in. He follows the tap-tap of her fingers writing out the letters of her name on his phone, and commits her number to memory, just as he does the memory of her lidded eyes, her mouth open in a moan when she comes. She looks over at him, blushing, her face a beautiful, beautiful red, and he smiles, leaning down to pull aside the collar of her shirt to kiss her throat. Her breath hitches, and she drops his phone onto the nightstand, letting Zuko pull her down to the mattress.

"I call the big spoon," he tells her, and she laughs, rolling onto her side. Zuko wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close, and pushes her hair to the side, kissing her neck. "I'm glad you're staying," he says. His arm tightens around her. "Tonight was amazing."

She mumbles in affirmation, shifting under the covers. Zuko smiles, kisses her hair, and tucks himself into her side, fingers sneaking under his shirt so he can run then down her bare back. Sleep comes quickly to claim Zuko, and he holds Katara close, breathing in her warmth, and does not regret the night at all.

~0~

The next morning is a different story. Zuko is hurt- very hurt. He takes two advils and chugs an entire bottle of water before he feels somewhat human. He groans. Alcohol.

But his eyes fall to Katara’s sleeping form still nestled under the covers, and he grins, in spite of himself. He bends down, kissing her forehead, and she mumbles, but doesn’t wake.

He slips his phone out and opens up a text. 

Zuko: Last night was amazing. Can’t wait to see you later.

He’s forced to leave before she wakes. Class is boring, but halfway through, his phone buzzes, startling him from boredom. He opens his phone, reading the text, and feels his heart flutter.

Katara: Looking forward to it <3

And that’s enough to get him through class.