Disclaimer: Don't own it!
A/N: Um… it's an AU. And watch out for curse words. There are quite a few. Long ass note at the end, if you're interested. TL;DR: I don't know where this came from and concrit is welcome.
Pumping and Thumping
As they speed through the finish, the flags go down.
The fans get up and they get out of town.
The arena is empty except for one man,
Still driving and striving as fast as he can.
He was rifling through some papers left out on the desk. An oil can sat on the far corner, and a wrench balanced on the edge. Nothing seemed to have its own place. Bills mixed with engine mods; post-it notes plastered to every margin. Blank sheets of drafting paper were folded up with crumpled, half-finished ideas for a more streamlined exhaust system.
Zuko sighed. This was turning out to be one of his worst plans ever. But he was desperate. If he ever had a chance of going home again, he had to win the cup. In order to win the cup, he had to figure out how to beat everyone else. And sometimes, figuring that out required a little bit of espionage.
That's why he was shuffling through the odds and ends of a garage that didn't belong to his uncle. And that's why he found his face pressed roughly against the papers on the desk.
"Hands where I can see 'em, buster."
A woman. The leather-wrapped hand gripping his neck was a woman's hand. He could get out of this; he could beat her. He just had to think this through, which has always been a little difficult for him.
Slowly, Zuko flattened out his hands on the desktop.
"No funny business, either." Something cold and metal jabbed his kidney. "I'm not afraid to hurt you."
"Good."
The hand on his neck pushed forward, choking him.
"I mean it. I'll do anything to protect my family." The metal thing poked him harder, too. "Now you better have a damn good reason for sneaking in here, because you sure as hell don't work for S-Dub."
Zuko coughed and wheezed as she loosened her grip again. He wasn't going to tell this bitch anything. No way. He was too close to getting everything back.
"Fuck you."
She hit him with the metal thing. The wrench, he realized. The thing about getting hit in the back was that the force seemed to reverberate throughout his entire torso. And this woman packed a hell of a wallop.
"Who are you?" she growled into his ear.
His verbal response was to return the growl. His nonverbal response was a shiver that ran like melted ice from the nape of his neck down to his tailbone, curling in the pit of his stomach. The second impact of the wrench chased that feeling away quickly enough. This time a few drops of blood coughed their out of his mouth, catching in the fabric of his balaclava. He must have bit his cheek.
"Shit, do you have hit the same spot?"
Her elbow hit him. It hurt more as the wrench. Pokier.
"Yes," she hissed. "Now you better answer me. Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing here?"
"Nasty words for a little girl."
Twice this go around. One for each kidney. He blinked, trying to get his vision to clear.
Think! He had to fucking think! No way he's going to get beat by some brat. Now how could he get out of this? He swallowed thickly, pushing back the nausea the taste of blood brought. He couldn't move what she could see. That meant no punching or head butting, but his legs were under the desk. And the chair had wheels.
There were moments in Zuko's life where he honestly believed he should have the shit beaten out of him. This was one of those moments. Spirits, he could be an idiot.
When he heard her snarl at him again, he shoved the chair back as hard as he could. It didn't roll so much as twist and trip over itself as one of the six wheels jammed. But he could work with that. The woman had the breath knocked out of her, and he was free.
Now it was his turn.
Zuko pushed the pain radiating from his lower back behind the need to restrain the woman who'd trapped him. He slapped the wrench away from her hand as she struggled to push the heavy chair off of her. Zuko stood, holding back a groan. He stumbled to the chair, and he grabbed her wrists. He loomed over her, straddling the toppled chair.
The part of him that had shivered noted that she was actually quite a looker, with her dark skin, dark hair and bright eyes. The rest of him realized that this was Katara Tikaani. This was the driver he'd shoved into the wall three days earlier. This was the driver who had come out of nowhere last season and stole the circuit cup from him. And this year she had a teammate gearing up to take the cup from his fingertips yet again.
"You!" He hissed at her.
Despite gravity being against her, she mustered up a globule of spit that struck him on the cheek.
"Let me go!"
"Like hell. You'll pop my spleen!."
"You'd deserve it."
He scoffed, gripping her wrists tighter. She winced.
"What kind of asshole sneaks into someone else's garage anyway? What were you looking for?"
"I don't think you're in the position to be asking questions anymore, Tikaani."
She grated out more offensive names for him. Zuko was pretty sure she hadn't figured out who he was yet. Thank the spirits for small miracles. Now he just had to figure out what to do next. Think things through, that's what he needed to do.
First things first: How to incapacitate his captive. He wasn't really a fan of hitting women, but he was pretty desperate right now. And she'd hit him enough to deserve a little something in return. He could see Uncle's disapproving frown as the thought crossed his mind. But he was desperate.
He awkwardly tried to maneuver himself off the legs of the chair. As he swung his leg around, Tikaani kicked the chair. it hit him in the back of the knee, and he fell to the floor, letting her wrists go. She was up in a flash, grappling for his arms, his shirt, his balaclava, anything she could reach. Zuko batted the first few attempts away, but she managed to hit his back again. Everything seemed a little starrier after that. They wound up tangled together on the floor. She was sitting on his back, twisting an arm painfully while pressing down on his neck again. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move. Hell, it hurt to exist right now.
"I'll ask you one more time, or I really will pop your spleen. Who are you and what are you doing here?"
Zuko coughed and sputtered. He couldn't really muster much more. His mouth tasted too coppery, and it felt like he'd swallowed a lug nut. Not enough air. Fuck her.
She leaned forward, pressing more of her weight on his arm and the back of his neck. He groaned out what little air he had left. Her knees seemed to dig into just the wrong spots on his back, and his thoughts became spotty like his vision. He could see her hair slipping to the ground and feel her breath on his ear through his wooly mask.
"Tell me."
That part of him shivered again. It shuddered and coiled and wound him up in knots, and it was so many sorts of wrong-but-right that his mind couldn't really process what was going on.
Suddenly, the pressure on his neck was released. Zuko was too happy wheezing in blessed oxygen to realize that she had ripped away his anonymity. She leaned back again. That part relished the feeling of her weight shifting back towards his hips. His mind was tied in so many knots, and really he could barely give a shit that Tikaani now knew who she'd been fighting the last twenty minutes.
"Oh, fuck," she breathed. Zuko agreed with the sentiment. He was really in a pickle right now. Somehow he managed to lose the upper hand and any sort of position to regain it. Plus, now she knew who to press charges against. 'Oh, fuck,' was right. But with her back there, Zuko realized two things. One, if he could twist his right leg a little, he could gain the leverage he needed to throw her off. Two, Katara Tikaani's ass was a piece of art. Zuko did his level best to ignore that second fact. After all, it only seemed to prove that he'd inherited Uncle's wandering eye at a poor time.
He wriggled his leg, but she didn't noticed. He shoved up with his free arm and knee, and she noticed it. She didn't let go of his left wrist though. She dragged him down as she fell. They landed with an 'oof!' and the sharp thud. This loosened her hand, but he didn't move right away. Her chest was smushed into his shoulder blades, and suddenly that part of him became most all of him. Even if right now was really not the time.
He blinked several times, his thoughts finally returning to some semblance of order. Zuko rolled onto his knees.
Tikaani stared at him through dazed eyes. He guessed she hit her head. Not too hard if she was still awake. Not coherent, but conscious.
He tore his dirty mind away from wondering if her eyes clouded up like that after a good lay and retrieved his balaclava, shoving it back over her face.
"Huojiao? Zuko?" She murmured.
"No," he replied, roughening his voice. "Just a dream."
She snorted. "Weird dream. 'M gonna sleep now."
Zuko steadfastly shut that door again. Really, he needed to get a handle on where his mind wandered off to. The woman was probably concussed, and here he was imagining her naked, rumpled and thoroughly satiated. Not the time. Not to mention the fact that he could be bleeding internally because this same woman went to town on him with a wrench. A fucking wrench. Now was really not the time.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Zuko stood up slowly. What a fucking waste. Why did he think he'd find some sort of secret in the poorly drawn notes and specs left in Southern Wolf Racing's garage? The answer to their dominance in the circuit the last few years wasn't the equipment. It had much more to do with the fearless woman passed out on the floor, but that's not something you can really steal. His only hope was that she really was concussed. That would force her out of the next few races. One less person to pass.
The thought didn't sit well with him. Cursing to himself, Zuko grabbed a folder from the desk and pulled himself out of the garage. At least he'd have something to show for all this trouble. Even if it wasn't particularly useful.
The keys were still in the lock, so he managed to tie up one loose end. If he was lucky, she wouldn't remember enough to call the police. But he was never lucky, so he wasn't crossing his fingers.
The drive home passed in a pained blur. Zuko was pretty sure he might have blacked out for a bit before he even started his car. The pressure of the seat hurt the bruises forming on his back. Punching the clutch in at every red light made his vision go white around the edges.
Uncle was asleep on the sofa when he got back to his apartment. The old man cracked his jaw yawning when Zuko slammed the front door shut and sagged against it.
"A successful venture, nephew?" Zuko could hear the barely veiled disappointment. He flipped him off and then stumbled down the hall to flop on his bed. He didn't even bother to take off the balaclava before passing out.
The sun has gone down and the moon has come up,
And long ago somebody left with the cup.
But he's driving and striving and hugging the turns.
And thinking of someone for whom he still burns.
A/N: Soooo, in short, I'm not sure where this came from. Possibly the combination of driving 50 miles a day and listening to too much CAKE (is there such a thing as too much CAKE?). I dunno. What I do know is the image of Zuko racing cars popped in my mind, and then he decided to bring the rest of the AU with him.
I don't know much about the AU. I know Aang, Katara and Zuko are drivers. I know Sokka and Suki are badass mechanics. I know Zuko was kicked out of his Fortune-500-company-owning family and lives with Iroh, and Iroh is in charge of the team/company that Zuko races for. I know Sokka came up with the ridiculous nickname of "S-Dub" for his family's racing team/company (Southern Wolf Racing. SW. S-Dub.). I know Tikaani is Inuit for "wolf" (or so the Internet tells me). I know Katara is a badass and drives a sweet motorcycle, hence the leather gloves. I know "huo" and "jiao" are Chinese for "fire" and "bird," respectively.
Is there bending? I don't know. What's Toph doing with her badassery? I don't know. Does Katara wake up and call the cops? I don't know. Probably.
Things I like about this: 1) LONGEST THING I'VE EVER WRITTEN THAT WON'T BE GIVEN SOME SORT OF GRADE. 2) It's not all dialogue and doesn't rely on dialogue to tell the story. 3) Zuko POV. And not awkward/dorky/adorable Zuko POV, but some strange mix of season one and season two Zuko. 4) Accidentally wrote allusions to various canon Zutara scenes.
Things I don't like: 1) Why the hell did Katara decide that beating the shit out of Zuko was the best plan of action? 2) Not enough Iroh. 3) I had an idea of what Katara would do if she found Zuko snooping, and it involved her dragging him to a sleazy diner on her motorcycle and forcing him to both spill his guts to her and pay for her waffles. And then she brought the wrench down.
I dunno. Now that you know what I think, lemme know what you think. R&R, plz