Just in the mood for some Zutara feels tonight… plus, I miss Christmas.

Prompt: Elevator

POV: Katara

Modern AU

You know that certain something that you eat or see or do that just completely soothes you? You know, something that really tells you that you're home? Well, nothing says home to me like a nice cup of hot chocolate and a good book. On winter days like these, all I do is sit at my desk imagining myself in front of my fireplace with a copy of Little Women and my penguin mug, sipping away at my Gran-Gran's recipe for peppermint cocoa.

You see, this is what was on my mind as I walked briskly to the elevator after a long day of answering phone calls from people who had experienced a power outage due to the recent blizzard. There wasn't a single person who hadn't called in to complain. I was given a variety of colorful nicknames such as "bureaucratic felon" and "heartless sadist". Some pet names were sprinkled with profanities. I usually consider myself mild-mannered, which makes me almost perfect for my job, but I don't enjoy a minute.

But none of that mattered now because I was finally heading home after eight long hours of endless droning to snuggle into my favorite quilt and be serenaded by a Bing Crosby Christmas CD.

At least, that's what I thought I was going to be doing. Instead, I'm stuck here in the elevator with no light, no heat, and nobody to hear my sobs but the equally trapped person next to me.

"Calm down," he says to me. It's not a comforting "calm down"; it's more of a "shut-up-you're-being-stupid" calm down. But I am not being stupid. I'm being what a normal human is when her plans are dashed to smithereens after a horrible day at work: miserable and angry and pathetic.

"You do realize we're stuck in an elevator, right?" I snap at him in the dark.

"You don't say." I can practically hear him role his eyes.

"There's a whole ride at Disney world that's dedicated to this specific catastrophe, you know." I huddle myself in the corner, trying to absorb any heat that my coat will offer. "Except they don't say how to reverse it. I swear I'm in the Twilight Zone."

"Quiet down. I'm trying to call for help."

"The phone lines are probably down, too. All the power is shut off. The wifi won't be up, either."

"Fascinating."

"How are you not freaked out?! We. Are stuck. In an ELEVATOR. In the freezing winter. With no heat. No light. And no cell service."

"What's your big rush? Got a fancy dinner date or something?" It might be my imagination—or the cold chapping my brain—but I detect amusement in his voice.

"Yes, with a comfy armchair and Bing Crosby."

I sit down on the thin carpet and I feel the stranger do the same. The darkness is silent for a few moments, just enough time for fear to set it. Could this be like that awful prank on YouTube where the lights go out in the elevator and they flicker back on for a split second so you can see some half-dead child in there with you? Am I on camera? Or is this real? What if I'm going to be stuck here forever? What if I have to eat the guy here with me just to survive? Or worse… will he have to eat me?

I scoot to the farthest corner of the tin prison, trying my best to keep an eye on the cannibal across from me. My thoughts pause for a moment for me to recognize that he is humming Bing Crosby's White Christmas.

As depressed as I am that I'm not at home listening to the real deal, I have to admit that this guy doesn't have a bad voice. I chime in after a few notes. My voice cracks a few times, but it sounds kind of nice.

"Look, if you really want some light, then here."

A rectangle of flickering light cast soft shadows in the small space. I look down and see that—of all things—my mystery companion has a lighter app. The blue and yellow flame wavers a little to simulate fire, and I have to laugh. He chuckles, too, but only a little. He seems broody and serious, but he's probably not someone who is so evil that he would eat another human being for his own selfish good. Unlike me, if I'm stuck here long enough.

"You know, you have a nice voice." I say, looking at the fake fire.

"No I don't. My sister says it can shatter glass."

"Then your sister must not listen to music. It's nice. Really."

"Thank you."

After a few moments of silence, I muster the courage to look up at my companion's face. Half of it is still shaded by the elevator's shadows, but from what I can see he has yellow-gold eyes—an uncommon but not unpleasant color, I conclude. His skin is pale aside from the pink glow coaxed up from the cold. His hair is straight and long, his longest bang reaching the middle of his nose. His coat is a dark maroon-red, like the color of bricks. He's actually really handsome, in a gruff, reserved sort of way.

I see his one illuminated eye searching my face, probably wondering if I'm truly horrified by the current situation. I am, but not as much as I would have been if he wasn't here with me. When I spot him looking at me, his gaze darts away. An awkward silence settles in the room.

I rub my hands together and blow hard into them. It brings fleeting relief. I take off my beanie and roll my fingers around in it, trying to keep some warmth in them.

"Don't do that. Almost fifty-percent of your body heat is lost through your head. Keep your hat on." My companion says plainly.

"I have lots of hair. I'm sure my head is fine. My hands, however, need more attention."

"Then just put them in your pockets."

"My coat doesn't have pockets."

I see my companion's eye open wider in surprise. "How could it not have pockets? It's a coat."

I pluck at the seams of my navy-blue pea-coat. "Fashion isn't about utility. It's about looking good. When I bought it, I thought these pockets were real. Turns out they're just extra fabric put on to make it look like there are pockets there." I poke the fabric to show him it's fake. "See?"

"Here."

Two gloves land on my lap. My eyes widen. "Oh, are you sure?" I don't really wait for an answer, though. I slip them on and soak in the soothing warmth my companion left behind in the fingers.

"Go ahead. I have pockets, so it seemed unfair for you not to have them."

I look harder at my companion's face. There's something red on the side of his nose that's half-covered by darkness. "There's something next to your eye."

"No there's not." His voice is gruff again.

"No, really, there is. Right…" I lean forward without thinking and try to brush the red substance off his face. But when my finger comes in contact with his skin, it doesn't rub off.

I gasp.

"Don't freak out." His voice sounds like it's pleading. His other eye glimmers, begging me not to ask any questions. But so many well up inside me that I have to get them out.

"Does it hurt? What happened? Where did you get this?" My hand moves his hair away and pulls him slightly towards the light. A red scar snares half his face, reaching from the inside of his nose across to his ear and extending down to his cheekbone. It's hard and rough with purple creases here and there to show crinkled skin. His eye is permanently squinted. He barely has a second eyebrow. As awful as it sounds, it looks scary in the dark.

He jerks back, suddenly very fidgety and guarded. "I got it a long time ago. Kitchen fire. It's no big deal."

I can tell by his chilly reaction that it's more of a "deal" than he wants me to believe, but I try to change the subject.

"So… what are your plans for the holidays? Are you going to see your family somewhere?"

"No."

"…Oh."

He doesn't respond, and I don't prompt him. This guy apparently has some big family issues. I'm not really sure what else to say. I'm afraid that any further conversation would pry out some unhappy childhood backstory that would end with him not talking at all. Then this situation would REALLY be bad.

"What about you?"

I beam, partly in relief and partly in enthusiasm. "Oh, I'm so excited. I'm going to Alaska to see my dad and my brother, and then I'm going to Northern Canada to see my Gran-Gran and step-grandfather. We'll go ice fishing and skating and sledding, just like when we were kids. And on Christmas morning, I'll get a special ornament from my grandmother, like I do every year, so I can hang it on my tree back home. We always have the most fun times together."

I close my eyes and breathe in. I can almost smell the spicy cranberry smell in the air and feel the rising excitement in my stomach from sliding down a steep him on a wooden plank.

Silence hangs in the air.

"Zuko."

I turn and look at my companion. I can see both sides of his face now. "What?"

"My name is Zuko."

A smile creeps up onto my lips. "I'm Katara."

I extend a hand and he hesitantly shakes it. His handshake is firm, a single pump. His fingers are long and thin, and they look extremely soft. For a second, I don't want to let go.

My companion (now named Zuko) picks up his phone and punches in his pin. He scrolls through a few things, then taps the screen. The elevator fills with the soothing sound of Bing Crosby's voice. My smile grows. I look up at Zuko and see he, too, is smiling. It's actually really cute.

"I'm a big Bing Crosby fan. I have three of his albums on here." He looks down like he's revealed a deep embarrassing secret, and I can't help but laugh.

"I do, too, but my phone is in the car. It distracts me from my work, so I normally don't bring it."

I bob my head from side to side, swaying with the tune. Zuko joins me. We sing along with the round, mellow voice we both adore, gliding up and down the scales with him in almost perfect unison. After a whole album rolls by, Zuko stops the music. "Sorry, but it's about to die."

I nod and lie down on the floor. "You know what's strange?"

"What?" Zuko peers into my face.

"Promise you won't tell anyone?"

"Cross my heart."

"I've never had a mistletoe kiss."

Zuko raises his eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really." I turn my head to face him. "I've had three boyfriends within the past ten years, and none of them were ever around Christmas time. It's like Christmas is cursed or something."

"Only three? In ten years?"

"I'm not a big dating person. Too much pressure." I try to sound nonchalant, but it's a tough subject for me.

"Why not? You're pretty enough and you seem like fun when you're not freaking out."

I blush a little at the slight compliment, but look down in sadness. "I was engaged for a year and a half before the guy dumped me. He had to go traveling everywhere for his job and, well… I want to be able to call only one place home, you know?"

Zuko nods in understanding. Quiet permeates the air once again. I dread the silence.

"They're not that great." Zuko shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Mistletoe kisses. I guess it depends on who you're with."

"Yeah, but… I don't know, I've always wanted one. All those lovey-dovey Christmas songs singing about mistletoe kisses describe it like it's a mandatory Christmas ritual. I've never even had a boyfriend around at Christmas time."

Zuko looks up at the ceiling thoughtfully. I look up, too. To my startling surprise I wish that there is mistletoe up there right now. After all, Zuko isn't the worst guy in the world to be trapped in an elevator with, and when in Rome you try new things.

"Ever kiss a guy in an elevator?"

My head twists in surprise. Zuko is still looking at the ceiling, his eyes fixed on some invisible thing. Maybe there is mistletoe up there. I double check.

Nothing. Dang it.

"I'm not prompting you or anything. I just want to know." Zuko looks back at me, straight-faced.

For some reason, I have trouble holding his gaze. I sit up and look at the floor. "No, I haven't. I'm not a very adventurous person."

"Adventurous?"

"Yeah. You know, daring. Impulsive."

"It's not like you're making out or anything."

"I know that, but I just haven't been in an elevator long enough to want to kiss someone, that's all." I shift uncomfortably. I'm not sure if he's flirting with me, or just chatting to pass the time.

"Well, we've been in here for a good two hours. Do you consider that long enough?" His voice is hard to decipher and it gives me chills.

"…I suppose."

I feel his hand cup my cheek. My eyes gravitate towards his gaze. It's powerful, that look in his eyes. I'm not sure if it's something dangerous or explosive or a combination of the two, but it's exciting. I'm suddenly anxious. Is my hair mangled? Are my lips too chapped? My face is probably beat red by now.

The lighter is still flickering as he draws me closer. His eyes-lidded and his lips are merely inches from mine. His body warmth is a welcome change from the cold steel walls.

I close my eyes, ready for the impact.

"Good to know."

I'm suddenly cold again. He is drawing back away from me, a look I can't quite identify on his face. I'm trying to decide whether I'm angry, hurt, or thankful when the elevator shakes.

He lurches forward as the elevator throws me back. We're moving down again, the lights still off. But this time, we're not two strangers standing awkwardly in opposite corners of the room waiting for the ground floor to appear. Now we are friends, or maybe even more than friends, who have just experienced their first kiss together by accident.

His lips are soft despite the nippy air, and his nose gently nudges mine. My eyes instinctively close and his hand makes its way to the back of my head.

Whether the ride is three hours or three seconds I can't tell you. All I know is that the lights flicker on and it ends all too soon. I push him off seconds before the doors open and we see the lobby, decked out in Christmas green and red, with two firefighters, three medics, and a couple of policemen running for the door.

The next few minutes are a blur. I'm put in a neck brace, even though I'm perfectly fine (actually a little better than that), and they take my blood pressure and things like that. I answer their questions in a dazed state of euphoria. As soon as the collar is off, I scan the crowd for Zuko.

I spot him standing in the doorway leading outside, his eyes already boring into me. He gives me a nod and half of a smile, then disappears through the revolving glass doors.

For a minute, I wonder if I dreamed this whole thing. Perhaps I fell asleep after reading some romance novels and I'm really sitting by the fire in my PJs right now. But as I look down at my hands and see his leather gloves, I tend to think not.

Did you guys like it? Please let me know! I love comments :)

Can you also comment some prompts you want to see me write about? Can't say I'll get to them, but I'm always ready and willing for inspiration!

Until then, Keep Calm, Leaf On

~JasmineDragon818