It's so god awfully hot in LA. Really, she should have known better. It would have been a much better idea to stay back east, where it was still lovely and cool and cold this time of year. But one does not simply urn down an offer from Toph Bei Fong. Especially when it involves an all-expenses paid trip and a two week stay at her summer home along the beach. Katara isn't nearly that stupid. She just wishes Toph didn't have a thing for raging house parties, the kind that didn't stop until the drinks ran dry and the cops were at the door.
Well…maybe she had a problem with it an hour ago, but she's just met the most infuriatingly handsome boy and the perils of partying are suddenly not very important. The guy is Japanese and his eyes are the wildest shade of yellow gold. Katara is half-convinced he's wearing contacts, but it's not humanly possible to create an eye color so enchanting. If she didn't know any better, she would have thought someone had spiked her cherry coke. The boy introduces himself as Zuko and Katara thinks that if she didn't want to punch him she might actually be in danger of wanting to kiss him. It looks like the first option will be occurring first.
"Your style is no match for mine." he says as they circle each other.
She's not quite sure how it happened (she was seriously convinced someone had spiked both their drinks), but they went from trading barbs to challenging each other to impromptu sparring matches on Toph's deck before a single hour was out.
"Style is hardly the deciding factor in a fight," she tells him as she slips off her heels and shrugs off her shawl, "I will be winning, though."
Zuko slides off his jacket, rolls the sleeves of his dress shirt up (apparently he'd been under the impression that Toph was throwing a civilized (re: upper-crust) party and had dressed accordingly).
"You keep telling yourself that, Katara," he says, "If that's how you cope with losing."
She growls at him, shifts away as he lunges. Zuko whirls into a spinning back kick. She slides back, slaps his leg down and delivers a rapid barrage of punches to his rib-cage. The first few catch their mark, but Zuko quickly brings his arms up and they trade blows. It's turning into a slug-fest (Katara's not stupid enough to think that she can win in a straight up boxing style blow out) and she retreats. She's been in a few tournaments, a dozen organized matches, but this is the first unsupervised fight she's ever been in. There is no way she's about to lose it.
Zuko drives her toward the balcony and she dances away, twirling as though they really are just normal twenty-something's dancing drunkenly on a random balcony (this is when she wonders why she can't ever meet a normal boy). Katara remains fluid and ready; he's in a solid and unwavering back stance. She kicks, he slides away and throws her a few punches as a parting gift. It's as though they are perfect opposites, dancing in parallel dimensions. He is the sun and she is the moon and when they meet the entire world is eclipsed by their strength and energy and life.
Katara realizes she can't win this fight (but neither can he) and so she throws the rule book out the window and tackles him. Surprise colors Zuko's features, but his arms are ready and he twirls her around like this is some terrible chick-flick musical and not actually real life. It's so embarrassing that for a moment she wants to die from the shame of being involved in something so cliché—only she's too busy being entrances by his eyes and wondering what it might be like to kiss him. It's an opportunity too great to resist.
His lips touch hers and then it's the tranquil ocean of her libido explodes…well like…a bomb (she'll come to discover that kissing Zuko is severely damaging to any wit she has fought Sokka tooth and nail for, not to mention a menace to her iron-clad sense of propriety and general IQ level). It doesn't matter that she's reeling from a nasty break because Jet is the last thing on her mind; Zuko is here in the flesh and blood and very much attractive, thank you very much. It doesn't help that he can kiss like it's nobody's business.
"Alright you two; break it the hell up," Toph announces from the balcony doors, "If you're not going to continue with the grudge match—then cut the mush and take it to a bedroom!"
This is when Katara notices that a crowd has gathered (her brother included, why is this moment even happening?) and she flushes a mortified shade of red. Zuko's face in unreadable, but his are amused. The crowd begins chanting, something along the lines of fight-fight-fight-fight and Toph won't stop with that terrible shit-eating grin.
"I'm afraid fighting will have to wait," Zuko says, his grip tightening around her waist, "I believe I have an appointment in Katara's bedroom, if you'll excuse us."
Oh spirits, she thinks, I'm never going to live this down.
