The Drabble Scrolls

Summary: Drabbles of all of our favorite Avatar characters: their relationships, histories, and futures. Mostly KatAang and Tokka, but will be flexible. The first scroll? Puberty. Rated for suggestive themes, language, character death.

Author's Note: Hello everyone. I've seen a lot of drabble series here on the site (many entitled "100 Drabbles in 100 Days or some other foolish promise like that), and so I've decided to make my own drabble series...only they won't fill 100 chapters nor will I complete them in 100 days.

At most, as I update everything else, the new drabbles will come on Saturdays or Fridays (and they'll be good drabbles too, nice and long and making sense, not some short little blurb). Most of this IS going to be KatAang, Tokka, and Taang, but like I said, I'm flexible. Unless there really, really is some one out there who wants to see me do Zutara or some other ship, I usually don't steer in that direction.

In any case, please let me know your thoughts of the drabbles (I have a bad habit: I read drabbles, add them to my favorites, and then don't review. This is extremely bad literary critiquing! Don't do the same thing!) Ideas are welcome, and I don't mind flames as long as they are minor and are written with both the author and reader in mind.

Remember to review and comment! Enjoy reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, which does not belong to me.

Growing Old Together

He was just a child a few days ago. I think I was too. I don't know what happened. Fact of the matter is, though, that he's changed, and I've changed...in more ways than I can fully and truly describe.

It's not that I'm blind to it, either. Gran Gran told me that all children have to grow up some time. She did a fine job of explaining it, too. She said a soul can't stay in a child's body forever, that at one point everyone has to grow a little taller, a little wider, a little more different.

Problem is, I got the story Gran Gran watered down for me. "You'll just get a little wider around the hips, Katara...for baring children, you see. They can't fit in a child's hips. Likewise, dearest, your chest will grow. For feeding them." She had traced her hands in the air to form a curvy, wavy shape. "Just like this."

That's not the whole story (as I realized almost a year later), and it's not the only story, either. There's still the male side of the spectrum, which Gran Gran left completely to my imagination. Not that I asked. It wouldn't have been proper or comfortable. Sokka was the only male I paid any attention to besides my father, and I sure didn't want to know what was going on inside of neither coat.

The changes came quickly and didn't stop to consider timing or location. At the Norther Water Tribe, my old coat wouldn't fit anymore, and I had to buy a new one. I even ripped it accidentally while trying to put it on. Before that, when Aang and I would train on what little waterbending we already knew, he would constantly make comments that I would have very well done without.

"Katara, are your legs supposed to be that hairy?" or "Hey Katara, your chest bindings are coming undone from the shoulder again. Want me to tie them for you?" or even "Is it just me, or are you a little...bigger...today?"

It's not that Aang's comments were offensive. Shaving was a chore and I had to make new chest bindings almost every two weeks. It was just the fact that he was noticing. It made me not only self-conscience and shy, but also embarrassed. I felt as though he was giving me a little too much attention, and my face would instantly grow hot.

Then there was the staring.

When I starting thinking about how much attention he was giving me, I decided I would give some attention to him to see how he would like it.

But things went from bad to worse. I couldn't stop noticing, and Aang seemed to be enjoying all of the extra gazes and questions.

When I would comment, "Wow Aang, your voice must have cracked at least eight times today," he would answer, "Must be the weather. Sokka and I are coming down with a cold." When I would ask, "What's that weird lump in your throat?" he would calmly explain, "You know, a frog must have jumped into my mouth when I was sleeping."

I tried everything. I wanted to see him blush, to see him turn the other way and tell me that I wasn't the only one getting older, he was too. But he never did. He always explained everything the way a child would: blame the weather for his voice, continuous training for his new muscles, a frog in his throat for that lame excuse of an Adam's Apple. But, unlike me, he would never blush or grow self-conscience. He would just smile and accept my attention as constant praise.

And then, as if things weren't bad enough, I caught myself staring at him. There was a problem there. Everyone already sort of knew that Aang stared, and the lot of us thought it was cute how he would lose himself in thought (what kind of thought remains a mystery). But when I stared, I couldn't catch myself quick enough. His muscles had grown so lean and agile. His chest had puffed up twice its size from before. His voice, once an annoying, childish tone, now had a deep, oozing ring to it, a beautiful characteristic of a young man. There were other aspects I noticed, too. But even now I can't bring myself to admit to them.

It felt stupid to think about this, but I realized there was no other way around it. I tried very hard to stop noticing, to stop making comments, to stop wondering when all of his changes were going to be complete. But, as luck and fate would have it, I could not. I had fallen into a hobby. Watching, noticing, and thinking. Observing the world as it passed and critiquing its style.

I learned something from the experience, though. If I was watching the world, the world (and Aang) was watching back. I shaved almost every night, tied my chest bindings so that they almost compressed my breathing, and tried to make my behind look smaller by tying my loins looser and training with Aang in waist-deep waters. I paid more attention to my body than ever before: applied aloe lotions from the South Pole when I thought necessary to stop pimples from erupting, ate stewed sea prunes because they "settled the restless body," and even bleached out stubborn facial hairs that came out regardless of the aloe.

The results were merely eye candy, but the situation with Aang grew worse. It may have taken work to look this proper, but, in that specific moment, it was worth it. Aang's questions stopped completely. He didn't stop staring, though. In fact, the only thing that kept me at an uncomfortable distance was his constantly wondering gaze.

Instead of looking at my legs or shoulders (mere child's play in comparison), he began glancing upon my face and eyes. When I demonstrated a waterbending move for him, his attention wasn't on the water, but on the hips that dangled from my waist, and the breasts that had grown out of thin air right over my ribs.

This didn't make me blush. This made me furious. And, some time after our faltering departure from Ba Sing Sei, I erupted.

We were waterbending in a distant cove while Toph slept and Sokka gathered fruits from the market. I had been quite joyful that day: Aang was feeling better than ever and his staring had greatly decreased after Azula's deadly blow.

"Master Pakku told me that your form begins from your mind, falls out into your body, and allows you to do whatever you please with the water," I told him, demonstrating a move that he had yet to learn.

"Sounds easy enough," he said back, gazing at the clouds above us. "It looks like it'll rain today."

The water that I was levitating right above my head dropped like dead weight. "You don't seem very interested," I stated, a little louder than I had intended. I gathered my hair in both hands and squeezed the water out of it. "Something wrong?"

Aang's eyes darted from the sky above to the girl in front of him. The stare began.

"Aang?" I asked in annoyance. "Aang, what is it?"

He blinked, and I could see him turn bright red under my own gaze, before he shifted his weight and returned his stare to the sky. "Nothing."

"Oh?" I inquired, grabbing my kimono and burying my shoulders into it. "This happens every time we train, Aang. You start staring, I ask you what's wrong, and then you say nothing! What is it this time?" I was furious now, out of embarrassment and confusion. "Aang, what are you staring at? If you're going to make a comment, just go ahead and spit it out. I'm sick of acting like entertainment for you! If you're just going to...to...look at me, then...then..."

I looked down, hiding my eyes. I didn't know why, but they were tearing up. "Then maybe...we shouldn't train anymore." And I began heading for the banks of the river.

He touched my shoulder. I still remember the way he did it, too. Grasped me like I was some little kid, looked straight into my eyes, and pointed to his chest. "You didn't like it when I told you what I thought, Katara. And that's why I stopped."

I didn't know he had noticed my irritation at his comments before. I didn't know anyone had noticed.

"You want to know what I think now?" he asked me, his eyes still locked on mine. His voice cracked when he cleared his throat. "I think you're afraid of growing up and you're trying to hide it. I think even though you're burying everything, it's showing though. I think you think your body is weird and gross...but it's not."

For the first time since his speech began, he looked down at the water. Even his tone softened. "It's not as bad as you make it out to be, Katara. In fact...it's...it's..." He trailed off. At the end of his silence, he looked back up to me, and grinned. "It's beautiful."

I was quiet. I think I stopped breathing at that point, too. The world spun and melted into the banks of the river and the arrows gracing Aang's arms and legs.

That's why he was staring. That's why he had said anything in the first place.

I looked down at my feet, ashamed and angry at myself for acting like I had. For refusing to accept the changes and for hating Aang's previous comments. But had he actually called me beautiful to my face?

All I could say was, "You were doing the same, Aang. You..."

He pulled his head down to meet my gaze. "Katara, we're both going to grow up someday." His smile was wide and warm. It made me wonder how he could possibly know what had been bothering me. "But that doesn't mean we have to do it alone."

"Do you even hear yourself when you talk?" I asked loudly, shoving his hand off of my shoulder. "What are we supposed to do then, Aang? Talk about what's going on? That's weird. Actually, that's not weird, Aang, that's just creepy. We can't tell each other everything."

And suddenly we were laughing. It wasn't an average laugh, either. It was a fit. Tears rolled from our cheeks as we thought about what I had said. Aang slapped his knees at least four times, and I was bent double with laughter.

"Hey Katara," he said, still giggling. "I'm getting some hair in really weird places." He pointed to his head. "Every time I shave it off, it just grows back!"

We laughed until we could no longer breathe. When the sun settled into the milky river, we had already put our clothes back on and were headed for the shore.

"Katara," he said before we could come too close to camp. "I'm sorry if...if I was..."

"No, it's my own fault." I murmured. "Aang...I guess I was being too self-conscience. You couldn't have been staring for that long." I paused, looking at him from head to foot. "Besides," I added quietly, "I think I've found myself doing the same thing."

We returned to camp that night without new waterbending experiences, but with red faces and racing heartbeats. Toph smiled in our general direction as if she knew something was going on.

"Some one sounds happy," she exclaimed, as if we didn't know. "There must be something laced in that river water."

Aang and I exchanged nervous glances before we sat down to eat.

What Gran Gran had told me years before was true, but she could have explained it in simpler terms, as I realized that night. I can imagine what she could have said, had she not been so paranoid about under-explanations. "Katara, it's easy," I imagine her saying. "You go through a few spurts, look a little different, and then you die." In my mind, I see my younger self growing depressed, until imaginary Gran Gran adds, "And if you're lucky, dearest, you'll find someone who will grow older with you forever." My younger self claps and dreams of a tall, handsome young man.

A young man making foolish comments at the wrong time, but with a heart as wide as the world, and with eyes benevolent and graceful, that stare for too long and have the power to send unreasonable amounts of heat to my face.

Maybe growing older together won't be so bad after all.