This story became a little too large to put in a drabble series, so I've removed it from "The Most of Us" to its own little spot.
It goes to thescarynymph, who provided the second prompt in the reviews for "The Most of Us."
The Perils of Eavesdropping, Part I
In retrospect, the situation could have been handled differently. More elegantly, perhaps. If Zuko had just strode through the oak double doors into the kitchen, his chin held high and a small, friendly smile gracing his face, this predicament wouldn't have been a predicament at all. It would just have been a conversation that happened that one time that everyone just forgot about and never spoke of again.
But apparently he had been the Blue Spirit for a bit too long: though he was decked in his full Fire Nation regalia, creaking armor and heavy, garish boots, his approach was utterly silent; even the robes brushing the marble floors of the halls of the palace barely made a whisper.
It was for this reason that neither Suki nor Katara heard him walking swiftly to his next meeting (something about his birthday celebration or whatever). Or perhaps they were just too…involved in their conversation.
"—just too big, Suki."
His feet seemed to stop by themselves, with no consideration, and he found himself turning around and sidling up to one of the double doors to the palace's kitchen, which stood slightly ajar.
"Oh, Katara," Suki was saying, "Surely it can't be that—"
"It is, though. It really is." Katara exhaled, a breathy sigh full of a potent mixture of ecstasy and longing and not a little bit of sadness. "I just don't know what to do about it. Of course Aang is enthusiastic, but it just…won't fit. It can't be done."
This…
This was not happening. He was not listening to this. He was not purposefully edging along the wall to keep out of sight, not scooting closer to the gap in the door to hear every. Single. Word.
"Have you talked to him about it?" Suki's concern made Zuko wonder about Sokka, and then made Zuko wonder if taking a hot poker to various parts of his brain would make him forget forever the mental image of Sokka's—
"You know Aang," Katara said, and Zuko heard the rustling of fabric. He imagined her smoothing her skirt down with nervous hands. Were hers sweaty like his? "He's an optimist. He thinks that everything will work out in the end, but to be honest…"
Zuko pressed his face against the door.
"He just doesn't know how to handle it."
Zuko choked on his own spit.
"Did you hear that?" he heard Suki ask suddenly, and (much later) he swore he had never moved so fast in his life. He threw himself out of the way, against the wall, just as the door burst open. He stopped it with a deft hand, his nose a hair's breadth away from being crushed by the ornate wood.
"Hm," said Katara.
The sound of shuffling feet, then Suki saying, "That was weird." He heard another rustle, like Suki was shrugging. "Anyway, maybe you should talk to Iroh about it. He might have some pretty good ideas about what to do in this situation."
"Good idea. I'm sure he's had enough experience with this type of thing to give some pretty awesome advice."
"Maybe even a few pointers?" Suki said, giggling.
The door closed with a small snap as Katara's laugh echoed through the expansive corridor, while the ruler of the Fire Nation, leaning weakly against the walls of his palace, willed his legs to become something more than two puddles of water on the floor.
