A/N: Just a quick little ficlet that popped into my head after I finished my A:TLA rewatch. Just needed to get it out of my system, but any critique is more than welcome! xx Tinged.

She thought he was joking when he said he was going to grow a beard.

It was not unlike Aang to go out one day and return, vibrating with excitement, over some stupid idea. There was the time he had wanted to get a Jade Dragon tattooed on his chest, but once he had sobered down a bit (alcohol being the main reason the idea seemed like a good one at the time), he remembered that tattoos hurt like the dickens. Then he had wanted to adopt an armadillo bear, and had pestered Katara for nearly a week before she finally threatened him with eternal chastity. The fact of the matter was that no matter how old Aang grew, he would always be a child at heart. And now, at twenty years of age, Aang wanted to grow a beard.

Katara had rolled her eyes at Aang's announcement, knowing that he was probably going to get tired of his plan within the week and returned to smooth-face, but, for once, she had underestimated her husband. The next time she saw him, after he was gone for several weeks in the Earth Kingdom, Aang, the Monk, the little boy Katara had pulled from the iceburg, had a small, dark, proud beard on his chin.

She had been running to greet him, full-tilt, and dignity forgotten as the need to be enfolded in his arms overtook her, but once she had gotten a good look at his face, Katara had squeaked in shock and skidded to a halt before she had time to feel his warmth. Aang, bemused, held his arms open wider, as if the problem was that she couldn't fit.

She always could, of course. But that was beside the point.

"Your face!"

"That's a prize wife you got there, Aang." Sokka remarked, as he dismounted next to Aang. "Really sweet. How long has it been since you've been gone? Two weeks? Three?"

"Three and a half." Aang chuckled, his eyes on Katara's face, where the shock was turning to pique. "But who's counting? Nice to see you, sweetie."

Sokka shuddered.

"Aang, what do you have on your face?" It wasn't a question so much as a demand, and as Katara crossed her arms, the bright smile fading to a faint frown, Aang knew he wasn't going to be able to brush this one aside.

A hand rubbed thoughtfully along his chin, feeling the soft bristles of the problematic beard, and the Avatar, Master of the Elements at only 12 years old, took a stab in the dark. "Erm ... a beard?"

"Why is it on your face?"

"Because ... that's where beards normally grow?"

Katara's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I told you I was growing it!" He added defensively, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "Katara, you're acting like someone shot lightening in my face. It's just facial hair! Sokka had one!"

"Don't bring me into this!" Came the immediate protest.

"I'm not married to Sokka!" Katara shot back instantly, prompting the two men to make faces and, in Sokka's case, feign retching. "It looks gross, Aang. I thought the monks were clean-shaven!"

"Their heads were. But you should have seen Gyatso's mustache!" Aang grinned at the memory. "It's just hair, love."

As Katara turned to re-enter the house, Sokka muttered to Aang, "You may be the Avatar, buddy, but there is no spirit or beast who can stop an angry woman. Good luck."

Aang had claimed the Southern Air Temple for his home, following the end of the war, and when he and Katara married, she joined him there. Months were spent restoring the temple to its former glory, and now, on days like these, when he returned from a long journey, or a difficult mission, it was to the warmth of a beautiful home and an ever more beautiful wife.

A beautiful wife who was, strangely, angry with him.

He paused in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning his staff against the wall and turning to watch Katara as she cooked dinner; tossing water to and fro, steam rising from pots and pans, the sound of oil sizzling and crisp vegetables being chopped. She had her back to him, her spine so straight that it looked painful, and there was a decisive, angry air of movement in her actions, though all she was doing was making dinner. Aang stayed silent, knowing that the storm had to break before he could test the waters.

Finally, she turned, spotted him, and some of the tightness around her eyes seemed to soften. "You look tired."

He moved further into the kitchen, tilting his head a little and giving her a warm smile that made her melt, despite herself. "I'm so much better, now that I'm home."

Hands stole around her waist, and she sighed, twining her own around his neck and burying her face in his chest. She could feel him kiss the crown of her head, and part of her wanted to reach up and kiss him, with all the passion and love she had been forced to keep to herself for the past month; after a moment, however, she pulled away, gesturing with one hand for Aang to take a seat. "How did it go?"

He settled himself on a cushion, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand as he relaxed for the first time in what felt like years. "You know how the Ba Sing Sei is. Just politics and boring parties. Toph nearly broke a guy's nose because he kept hitting on her."

Katara let out a snort of laughter, and Aang grinned. "But we got what we needed done, and now we can take some time off and relax."And then, in a softer voice, "I've missed you."

She turned to look at him, and her eyes locked with his. "I missed you, too, Aang. I thought ... if you weren't back, soon, I'd have to hunt you down and find you myself."

"Shouldn't be hard to do!" He laughed, suddenly, causing Katara to grin in response. "Zuko had an easy-enough time of doing it!"

"He's expecting a baby, now." Katara remarked, setting food on the table, and she had the pleasure of seeing Aang sit bolt-upright in his seat, shocked and delighted.

"A baby? Sifu Hotman? When? Boy or girl? Is he happy? Is Mai happy? I want to hear everything!"

His wife smiled, taking her seat next to him and helping herself to a big serving of rice. "He's very happy. He made a special trip out to tell me and Suki. They don't know the gender, yet, but Mai wants a boy. Zuko doesn't seem to care about the gender. They're expecting it around the end of summer."

Aang did a little hop in his seat, and Katara was reminded, irresistibly, of the little boy she had pulled from the iceberg. "I can't believe Zuko is going to be a dad! It seems like only yesterday that he was chasing me around the world."

"Throwing fireballs at us ..."

"Sending Combustion Man after us!"

"But I'd take Zuko over his sister any day." Katara finished, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I'd take a dozen Zuko's over Azula."

Aang, who had just raised his glass to his lips, paused and gave her a look, one eyebrow arched. "A dozen Zuko's. I think you'd need Mai's permission, first."

"Gross!" She raised a hand to swat at him, but Aang was too quick for her; he grabbed her around the wrist, and pulled her from her seat into his lap.

"In fact," He said now, and his voice was lower - Katara thought she could even hear the faint trace of a purr in there. "I think you'd need my permission, too."

Before she had time to react, he bent down, and he kissed her.

His lips were smooth, and firm, moulding to hers so effortlessly that it made her head spin. Forgetting that they were at the dinner table, Katara slid her arms around Aang's neck, pressing herself firmly into the solid warmth of his chest. His tongue traced her lower lip, one hand ghosting over her back, feeling each individual notch of her spine. For just a moment, the two of them sat, entwined like snakes, reveling in the end of their long separation.

Finally, Katara pulled away, a smile flitting across her face as she took in Aang's expression: pink-faced, grey eyes dark with lust, mouth parted slightly as he panted. His hands tightened slightly in the fabric of her shirt, and she gave a little chuckle at the sheer want in his eyes. "Did you miss me?" She asked, fingers trailing lightly on the exposed skin of his chest.

His breath caught in his throat and he stuttered out a "Y-yes."

It didn't matter how many times they lay together, or how long they had been married; when Katara beckoned, he came. Always.

Her fingers were tracing nonsensical patterns on his chest, and Aang closed his eyes, head lolling back slightly, the better to control his breathing as Katara explored the skin she so loved to touch. For a moment, the only sound in the kitchen was the slightly ragged pants from the Avatar as his wife touched him.

Finally, she broke the silence.

"Aang?"

"Hmm?"

"Why a beard?"

He opened his eyes and raised his head to look at her. Katara's eyes were on his chest where she was still softly touching him, but there was the faintest furrow on her brow, and the corners of her mouth were tugged downwards, as if in a frown. Gently, he raised his hand, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze.

"Why does it bother you?" He asked gently, and she bit her lip, giving him the urge to lean forwards and kiss it better.

"It's just ... it's so stupid, I know that, but it makes me realize ... it makes me realize that we're growing up, Aang." She stopped tracing his chest, and instead clasped his hand between hers. "And when I think about that ... about the future ... I just, I get scared. It's dumb, I know that, but -"

She broke off as he finally gave into temptation, kissing her softly, a hand brushing through her long, chocolate-brown hair before cupping the back of her head in his hand. When they broke apart, it was Katara who was flushed pink, and Katara who was breathing heavily as she strove to control her desire.

"It's not stupid, love." Aang said, and he shook his head as Katara opened her mouth to argue. "It's not stupid in the least. I get scared of the future, too. I get scared of a day when I might have to be without you."

And without another word, he kissed her again.

She moaned, a barely audible sound, and her lips parted, tongue darting out to taste him. Hands were tangling in fabric, teeth were grazing against the skin of necks and throats before Aang knocked over a dish, bringing them both back to their immediate surroundings.

"Will it spoil?" He asked, a little breathlessly, a hand sliding under Katara's shirt, teasing the skin of her waist.

"N-no -" She barely had time to stammer out an answer before Aang rose to his feet, picking her, effortlessly, up in his arms and striding down the hall to their bedroom. He had reached his full height, now; powerfully built, six feet and change tall, he cut an impressive figure no matter where he went, but there was no thrill quite like the one Katara received when Aang held her so easily in his arms.

Just like she was air.

He gave the door to their bedroom a gentle nudge with his knee and strode inside, forgoing the need to turn a light on, and instead setting Katara, gently, on the bed, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that sent sparks up and down her spine. Limbs twined once more together, and Katara tugged on Aang's robes impatiently, pulling him down on top of her. He resisted the urge to strip her down and take her - it had been so long since they last made love - and instead busied himself by sliding his palm along the taut skin of her stomach, rucking the fabric of her shirt higher and higher. His mouth moved from her own to the soft skin of her throat, placing hot, needy kisses on the skin that smelled like the ocean and cinnamon, all mixed in together. Katara whimpered, her hands tugging a little harder on the shoulder-knot that kept Aang's coverings in place, pulling it away after a moment with a soft sound of triumph. Aang ducked his head so that she could pull it up over his shoulders, and then she resumed her caresses with enthusiasm, sliding her own palms along the hard muscles of his chest, delighting in the way they jumped under her touch.

Aang had contented himself enough with touching without seeing. His hands reached for the hem of her own shirt, and he gave it a sharp tug, smiling in satisfaction when he heard it tear. Before Katara could stop him, he had seized it in hand and tore it cleanly down the middle, pulling the ruined fabric away from her body like he was unwrapping a present.

"Aang!" Katara cried, sitting up, unknowingly giving Aang a better angle to work at her under dressings. "That was my favourite shirt!"

"I'll buy you another one." Aang said thickly, cupping one of her breasts in his hand, causing Katara to give another low moan. "Just not now," He added, pulling away the last barrier between his hands and his wife's glorious skin. "Maybe next week."

The dressings fell away, and Aang lowered his mouth to trace his tongue over one pert nipple, and then the next. Her back arched as he tugged on one gently with his teeth, his free hand buried in the space between her legs, undoing the wrappings there, trailing his hand up her thigh and across her ribs. Katara was no less occupied: one hand reached around, running along the bunched muscles of Aang's back, fingers ghosting over the scar from his fight with Azula so long ago, before tracing the tattoo that ran so cleaning down his back. As Aang's mouth was occupied, Katara settled for dropping kisses on his shoulder and his jaw-line before brushing her nose along his cheek, feeling the soft bristles of his beard that reminded her, strangely, of Appa. The thought nearly made her laugh aloud.

"What's so funny?" Aang asked, bemusedly, raising his head slightly to look Katara in the eye. Smiling, Katara cupped his face in her hand, thumb brushing along his chin, marvelling at the softness of the hair there.

"I was just wondering why I was so annoyed with this thing in the first place."

A delighted grin spread across her husband's face, and he kissed her, coaxing her mouth open before he moved further down the length of her body, pausing to kiss the expanse of skin, dipping his tongue into her navel before moving on. His fingers hooked around the edge of her pants, and when she lifted her hips, he took that as his permission to remove the last trace of clothing from her. The scent of her arousal caused his own sex to twitch with desire, but he started slowly, tracing kisses from her knees, up to the inside of her thighs, and higher still. The soft hair of his beard scratched gently against the tender skin of her legs, and Katara shuddered as Aang's mouth climbed higher and higher, nuzzling softly in the apex between her legs before, finally, reaching out and tasting her.

Her hips bucked slightly as he explored her wetness with his tongue, the soft bristles on his chin teasing the swollen skin of her sex, and as his tongue traced the slit, pulling the taste from her, getting drunk off of her, teasing the little bundle of nerves so that Katara gasped and moaned, hands jumping to his head, struggling to keep some level of composure. His tongue penetrated her, causing Katara to cry out, one hand twisting in the fabric of their bed, as Aang brought her to completion in seconds.

Her chest heaved as Katara struggled for breath, as Aang, smiling in satisfaction, rolled over to the side, hand gently running up the curve of her hip. "So. Do you like the beard, sweetie?"

She turned to look at him, and the look in her eye would have been enough to intimidate Fire Lord Ozai. "Let me show you how much I did," She purred, and before Aang could react, she pushed him onto his back.

She started much as he had, with soft, open-mouth kisses that trailed from his throat to his chest, and lower still. She paused to nip at his own hardened nipple before moving on, tracing the defined muscles of his stomach with her tongue, before running her tongue along the tattoo of his left leg, causing Aang to whimper. He rolled his hips, desperate for friction, but Katara held him steady with one hand, taking her time, reacquainting herself with all the old, secret places of Aang's body, places that no one but herself had explored.

As she placed soft kisses along the hollow of his hip, Aang couldn't hold himself any more. "Katara," He whimpered again, hands tangling in her hair. "Katara, please ..."

"Please what, sweetie?" Her tongue darted out, just barely brushing against the tip of his erection, and Aang made a sound halfway between a moan and a strangled cry.

"P-please, Katara, touch me ... touch me ..."

Smirking, she did just that.

Her lips skimmed the length of him before she tasted the tip of him, causing Aang to moan, hips jerking up. A hand gripped the base of him as she enveloped him in her mouth; the wet warmth was almost too much to bear for Aang, as his eyes rolled back in his head and his fingers carded through Katara's hair, gripping as tight as he dared as she pleasured him. Her tongue ran along the seam of his penis; she sucked, lightly at first, then a little harder, before giving pause, and she hummed, every now and then, so that he never grew too comfortable with her ministrations.

His release was imminent: he could feel it in the tightening of his muscles, in the pit of his stomach, and without a second's pause, Aang seized Katara about the waist, reversing their positions before driving deeply into her, muffling her cry of pleasure with his kiss. She spread her legs, taking him in as deep as he could go, tearing her lips from his to dot kisses along the hollow of his throat.

By the third thrust, Katara was rocking her hips up to meet his, wrapping her legs around his waist and pressing him in, ripping a moan from Aang. Sweat was gathering on their flushed skin, and Katara reached up, flicking her tongue against his temple to taste the moisture gathered there. Without breaking stride, Aang slide a hand up to her breast and rolled the taut nipple between his fingers before flicking his tongue over the nub. He was moving steadily, now, plunging into her with long, deep strokes.

Their eyes met, the grey and the blue, and Aang leaned forwards, his lips brushing against hers. "I love you, Katara," he breathed. "So much."

They came undone, cries of pleasure reverberating around the room, and Aang collapsed on his side, panting, sated, pleased, gathering Katara into his arms, feeling her heartbeat against his chest.

For a little while, there was silence.

Then: "Alright, fine. I like the beard."