A Theme in Envy
Summary: Kataang, OneShot. "I had always thought I would marry a Water Tribe man." He contorted the details of his face. She had merely wanted to see if he was the jealous type.
Author's Note: I've always like the idea of a jealous lover. I guess Katara and Aang aren't really an exception.
In the episode, "Ember Island Players" (a poorly named episode, by the way), Aang gets so aggravated by what he sees that he leaves his seat. That was initiation for this.
Aang says later, "It might be because they're from the Fire Nation." Just as an explanation here: I've played off of the elements. Water feels an attraction to earth and fire feels an attraction to air. Like horoscopes, a little.
Happy Reading!
Jealousy is a funny thing, Katara was thinking.
The Avatar had suggested a walk about the town they were staying in. And although it had already gotten rather dark, she agreed and followed him. Arm in arm they watched the city come to life: the lanterns over the fountains, and the various forms of firebending entertainment. Katara leaned into him as they walked, memorizing the smells that surrounded them. Smoke, food, wine, perfume, and grass. Being so close to him filled her with contentment, and the promise still—they would be married in two weeks.
Jealousy is a funny thing, Katara thought again, looking about the overcrowded and fancy Fire Nation city.
Over the years she had traveled with him, Aang had acquired a good-sized fan club. A collection of younger girls, mostly from the Fire Nation, were obsessed with the young Avatar. And as they made their way around the city, Aang's fan girls squawked and gawked and stared longingly at him—smiling, pointing, and some—only the frisky, rambunctious ones—got close enough to smell the same thing Katara could.
How lucky Katara is, they must think, to be the Avatar's girl. To be his one and only. His paramour. How jealous, Katara thought. How resentful—how funny.
They walked in silence, enjoying each other. But the distractions grew. Although they bothered Aang, they bothered Katara much more, and as they sat on a prestigious restaurant patio, she made a point of glaring at every fan they saw and glancing back to see Aang's reaction.
"They can't help it," Aang tried explaining as a young woman walked by their table. Her fingers traced the hem of his collar before she disappeared in the store's entrance with a loud, detached moan. A group was already watching them through the store window, pointing and chattering, swooping over their food to get a closer look.
Katara's expression was both creased and exasperated. She crossed her arms and sighed audibly.
"Please don't be mad." He was whispering across the table to her. "It might be because they're from the Fire Nation. I don't know. I'm sorry. I don't know what to do with them. It's not like I can kick them away."
"If you can't, then I will," Katara spat crossly. "I can't share a single public moment with you without being swapped with mindless, disrespectful little brats! I never asked for this!"
"Neither did I. I'm sorry." When he reached for her hand, she pulled it away. "Katara—Katara, come on. Don't be mad. They're just…little girls. They're just excited. Please don't be mad, Katara."
She grunted angrily and turned her body around in the chair, away from him. The contentment had disappeared.
"Katara." And then a thought struck him, and it became all too obvious why she was so aggravated. He murmured, "Darling, you aren't jealous, are you?"
Her blue eyes flashed icily at him. She flared her fingers out before her when she saw him grinning. The response came out quickly, without thinking. "Why on earth would I be jealous? And of what?!"
"Of all of this attention," he replied coolly.
"Oh, please." She shook her head and attempted to smile, but the effort only resulted in a grimace. "I'm not jealous of your fan girls! What a joke! They're bothersome, if anything." She laughed bitterly, "Aang—please! Me, jealous? Hardly."
"Good. Jealousy is pathetic." He pulled her hand off of the table against her will and kissed it. "My future wife has brains in that lovely head of hers."
Katara heard a nearby woman sigh desperately at his praise. She frowned at the noise and turned to him. She looked at the glass table, where she could see through to her shoes. She said quietly, "And…if I was jealous?"
"If you were?"
"If I was," she began, raising a brow, "would it be any different?"
He straightened himself. "Katara, jealousy is pathetic—I'm telling you. No one with any decency would become jealous of anything. Envy is only for the truly desperate."
She smiled quietly to herself. This admittance automatically dubbed all of his precious admirers as indecent.
Her eyes took on a distant glow. She leaned forward on the table. "Would you like to hear a secret, Aang?"
"Yes—of course I would."
She twirled a strand of hair around her fingers as he watched her intently. The words came out in a slow and steady manner. "I always thought I would marry a Water Tribe man."
The instant effect of this sentence pleased Katara immeasurably. Desperation dripped noticeably from his face. His mouth hung open. She looked beyond him, recollecting, "I would dream about him all the time when I was younger. He had tan skin and deep blue eyes. His voice was dark and full…we had many children. I still remember how muscular he was."
Aang's left eye twitched as she continued, "In my dreams, we lived in the Southern Water Tribe. He was very tall—a good four years older than me. It was such a wondrous dream, Aang. So vivid. We kissed underneath this ice cliff, away from the village." She sighed in the reverie and glanced quickly to see his expression: contorted, confused, and horrified.
"Why are you smiling?" he asked, and it sounded disgusted, and rather hurt. "Why on earth would you tell me about him? What makes you think I would even want to hear it?" He put his hands in his lap. "What was that even for?"
Katara couldn't help it. She started laughing at his expense; it was loud but delicate. A true laugh—the chortle she often gave when things turned out in her favor. "Aang—Aang it's—"
He had stood up. "Why would you even tell me? Why are you dreaming about—"
"Aang—" She tried in vain to catch her breath. "Darling, please sit down. Please. Let me explain."
His brows furrowed crossly. He put his hands on the table in a distracted matter. Suddenly he looked like he had looked six years ago. "This is ridiculous! I can't believe this. I can't believe you would tell me! We're going to be married in two weeks, and here you are dreaming about some other—"
"Aang," she breathed. "Dearest, you aren't jealous, are you?"
The Avatar stood limply, frozen. His face took on a distracted sort of air. He could have answered with the generic, "of course not." He could have claimed, "why would I be jealous?" But he didn't. True to his nature, he answered honestly. He sat down again and clenched his fists. "Of course I'm jealous! Of course I am. You're supposed to be…"
She tilted her head.
"You're supposed to be…"
"What am I supposed to be?"
He turned his face. "You're supposed to be mine," he admitted quietly. Most of the initial shock had left him, Katara thought. But she loved this admittance, and he could tell, because she grinned broadly at him. When he felt her nudge her toes against his knee under the table, he looked up.
"Those dreams were a long time ago," she replied when he fell silent. Her tone was steady and sure. "I was a little girl. I'm yours now, Aang. I promise. I always will be."
His shoulders relaxed with this confession, as if a heavy worry that had sat on his chest was now lifted. He rested back on the wrought iron design of his chair. "Why did you do it?" he asked softly.
She shrugged again and turned her attention to the floor. The ceramic tiles of the patio were crafted to look like flat little lion turtles. "I wanted to see if you're the jealous type," she explained shortly, smiling. "But, I love it."
"So I am?"
"Of course. Of course you are." She met his gaze. She admitted nervously, "I guess I am too."
He lifted his brow. She leaned in so that her affirmation wouldn't be heard across the remaining customers and fan girls. She murmured, "Those girls are pissing me off. No one else should be giving you attention except for me."
She could see him smile broadly at this. He looked so handsome. So pleased. Before she kissed him—before they went back to their temporary lodgings to be alone, before they fell beneath the sheets—she whispered, "You could say I was playing a theme in envy."
This theme was broad and anxious—played over and over again by lovers of every kingdom, of every nation, of every tribe. And yet it was such a delicate and intricate detail, to be envious. To truly feel that something had a belonging. That the heart fits only one.
Jealousy is a funny thing.