for zutara month 2017, day ten, spin the bottle
in which we return to my regularly scheduled glorified shitposting. i wanted to do a silly frat au and this is where we're at guys. also, katara & toph are bros. fight me.
Tomorrow morning is her final in organic chem. People call her curve breaker and she is. Preens with pride every time she gets her quizzes back with full marks while everyone else groans and slumps deeper into their seats. It's not without effort though. The librarians know her by name. A corner table in the third floor stacks is unquestionably hers. Professors wish she wouldn't come to their office hours quite so often. Tomorrow morning is her final in organic chem and she's currently on her third shot of tequila.
"Maybe you should slow down, Sugar Queen," Toph says. Shouts, really, because the bass has been turned up until its vibrations are in their bones.
Katara likes the vibrations. Likes the way tequila burns her throat and leaves her lips tingling like she's just been thoroughly kissed. Likes how when she sways her hips to the music's rhythm boys stare. Likes how she feels wild and carefree and young and vicious.
"Maybe I should have another," she shouts back. Then laughs, too loud and neon bright, at the way Toph looks equal parts resigned and proud. Because this had been Toph's idea.
Whatever Toph's going to say—if it's going to be encouragement or something else—gets lost as an absolutely massive guy who looks way too old to be a frat brother sits down across from them. "The Boulder," he says in a voice that reminds Katara of the announcers of GranGran's wrestling tournaments, "challenges you."
Pale eyes focus on the source of the voice and Toph's lips kick up into her signature smirk. "Got the cash to pony up?"
Like so many of Toph's ideas, this one involved how to con people out of cash, because Toph's nothing if not opportunistic. Tonight the scam is arm wrestling. It's prime for a frat house because Toph is slender and female and blind while her opponents are…well, they don't skip whatever day at the gym, that's for sure. They don't realize that Toph's also strong and clever and fights dirty. So far she's made about two hundred bucks.
"I'm gonna get more to drink!" Katara says. It's fun watching Toph beat guys six times her size in arm wrestling but this buzz needs to keep going.
"If you're not back in ten I'm going to come looking for you," Toph says. She's already got her arm in position and the crowd is starting the countdown. It's nice that she thinks this way. So much of Katara's life she didn't have the kind of female friend who would cover her back and bail her out and punch guys in the nuts for trying to grind on her in the club.
Maybe later she'll tell Toph how much she loves her. Once Toph's had a few shots to celebrate her victories. Before then it'll probably just result in Toph punching her. After then, they'll cling to each other and stumble home to their apartment and put on a shitty action movie while eating ice cream out of the same tub. Do they have ice cream? They need to stop at the corner store just in case because she's feeling mint chocolate chip and last time they bought strawberry swirl.
Somehow she's in the kitchen. There's a bunch of people crowded around the island, watching something in their center like it's important, and she has the sudden thought that maybe they're summoning a demon. Except she's pretty sure—pretty sure—that you wouldn't want to summon a demon in a kitchen.
Tequila bottle's missing but it takes her a minute to realize that. She shuffles through the bottles of hard liquor two more times before it clicks that it really is gone. Turning, she asks, "Where's the tequila?"
"Over here," someone answers. People around the kitchen island shuffle and she goes over because she likes the tequila and she's not afraid of demons. The hard edge of the granite counter top bumps her hip and she looks for the tequila only to see that its bottle is empty. Spinning. Landing on her. "Ohhhhh," the same someone from before goes. Or maybe it's someone different.
"Spin the bottle?" Katara doesn't really require the clarification. Mostly she's stalling because she's pissed that they didn't just tell her the tequila was gone. "What are we? Thirteen?"
No one gives her a real answer. They just laugh and jostle. One girl, coldly beautiful and narrow eyed, says, "You don't have to play." It feels like there's a lot behind that statement. Especially because the people laugh more and jostle more violently. Katara's starting to feel sea sick.
"Well who's bottle is it?" If the other girl hadn't said anything, Katara would've left, but now she feels contrary. Meets the eyes of anyone who's willing to look her way.
Across the island, a guy raises his hand as if to say guilty. The thing is that he's exactly her type. Messy hair, broad shoulders, imperfect smile. A wine red scar covers part of his face but she thinks it just goes with the rest of him. Because he looks like the kind of guy who can weather whatever life throws at him and then throw it right back. It's fucking hot.
Maybe she says that out loud because for the first time everyone goes dead silent. The girl looks pissed. And the guy, well, he's got a blush going on that suggests he's not nearly as mysterious as he'd like to be.
Leaning across the island, she grabs him by the lapels of his leather jacket and pulls him into her. Their lips meet and it should be messier than it it. Teeth and spit. It is for a few seconds but then he cups her jaw in callused hands. Slowly he gentles the kiss. Gentles her. Katara lets him because she likes the way he tastes, like vodka and pomegranate.
Wolf whistles ring out as they pull apart. It's not the tequila that has her lips tingling. Reluctantly she pries her fingers off his jacket and tries not to be as obvious as she must be. It's okay because he's just as reluctant as she is. A thumb touches her lower lip in a brief touch that sets her nerves on fire.
Suddenly she wants to be alone in a dark room with him. She wants to kiss him until they're breathless. She wants to ask his name and his favorite memory from when he was eight. She wants to wake up with him. She wants to throw a snowball in his face and watch him splutter. She wants to tell him that she thinks he might be her soul mate.
"Get lively, Sugar Queen!" Toph bellows. An elbow lands right against her spine, sharp enough to make her yelp, before Toph's hand closes around her wrist and starts pulling her for the back door.
Katara tries to dig her heels in. There's no way she's leaving before she at least finds out his name. "I'm Katara," she tells him as they pass. Toph's dragging her. Literally dragging. "Call me."
Roaring noises come from the direction of the living room. Toph's speed increases. They're out the back door. People spill away from them as they run across the deck. It would probably hurt to resist now so Katara jogs along gamely and tries not to trip in her heels.
"Why are we running?" Katara yells. She's breathless. She's still sea sick. Or maybe just drunk sick.
"The Boulder wasn't happy. I cleaned him out. Five hundred bucks, Sugar Queen. Five. Hundred." It occurs to Katara that there's not actually a way off the deck. By now she knows what that means. Toph lets go of her and vaults the deck railing. "C'mon!"
Groaning, Katara pulls off her heels and vaults the deck railing just as the Boulder bursts onto the deck.