Frivolous and plotless, but a blast to write. One more chapter to follow. Set somewhere within the second season.
"Aang?"
The young airbender looked up from where he had been teasing Momo with a bit of tufted grass. Katara stood before him, looking hesitant. She held a comb in one hand, and her hair looked. . . odd.
"Is something the matter, Katara?" Aang asked. He tilted his head, trying to figure out why her hair looked so strange.
". . . Not exactly. I just. . . needed a favor."
"Sure. What is it?"
"Well, it's. . . this." The girl turned her back toward him, and Aang could finally see what was wrong with her hair. It was horribly tangled. Knots of hair criss-crossed each other and wove around other strands. Bits of it straggled out to either side, and one strand in the center was twisted into a sort of dreadlock.
"Whoa. What happened?" Katara turned her head slightly, and Aang saw her cheek color.
"Well, I was washing my hair and I thought it might be faster if I did it with waterbending." She turned back toward him, rubbing at her neck in embarrassment. "It wasn't. Anyway, this happened, and now I can't get it untangled. I thought maybe it might be easier if someone could actually see the tangles."
"I'd be glad to help, Katara, but, well, why me? I mean, I don't even have any hair. I'm not exactly an expert."
"I know, but I'm not letting Sokka anywhere near my hair. Not since the sea cucumber incident." She shuddered.
"Why? What happened during the - " Katara glared. ". . . Never mind."
"And Toph barely remembers that she has hair, let alone remembers to brush it. Just, please, help me out, Aang?"
"Sure, Katara. I'll do my best."
"Thanks." Katara handed him the comb, then turned and knelt with her back to him, sitting back on her heels.
Aang stared at the tangled mess, wondering where to start. He was glad, actually, that she hadn't taken his protest seriously and gone to someone else. He had wanted to get his hands on her hair ever since it had come out of its braid during her fight with Master Pakku.
He had never really thought about hair before; it wasn't really a factor living with the monks. But ever since the North Pole, he found himself thinking about hair more and more. Katara's hair, specifically. What would it feel like? Was it coarse or soft? Would it slip through his fingers like silk, or catch on the rough bits and calluses of his hands? Was it naturally wavy, or did that just come of having it in a braid all the time? What did it smell like? Like the rest of Katara, or did it have its own unique scent? Would it be warm, from the heat of her skin, or cool, from the water she had washed it with and the air flowing over it?
Gingerly, he reached out and touched a hand to Katara's hair. It was soft, even with the tangles in it. Aang had to stop himself from digging his fingers deeper into it. Cautiously, he began to pick the comb through the snarls, delicately picking apart the knots a few strands at a time. Unable to help himself, he ran his fingers through her hair, following the comb as it slowly untangled each knot. He hoped that Katara couldn't tell what he was doing.
"You know," she said suddenly, breaking into his thoughts, "you can pull a little harder than that. It's not going to hurt."
". . . Right," he said, but didn't change the pressure. It was working fine the way he was going, and despite what she said, he wanted to make sure that he wasn't going to hurt her. After all, she might never let him do this again. Would she let him do this again?
He liked it. He always liked being near her, but this seemed a little different. A little more. . . intimate than they usually were. He wasn't sure why it felt that way. He had been closer than this to her on several occasions. They had hugged often, and there was that time in the Cave of Two Lovers, where they'd almost. . .
Aang felt his cheeks flush, and he shook his head slightly to clear that particular thought away. This was not the time to be thinking about almost kissing Katara. It made him want to lean forward and wrap his arms around her, and perhaps finish what they had started.
Aang stilled his hands for a moment, taking a deep, calming breath. Then he returned to his work, carefully straightening each tangle. His mind wandered again to what made those embraces different from this.
Well, for one thing, he thought, those hugs had mostly been for comfort, or relief at seeing the other person was all right. And while he had enjoyed them, there was almost always another strong emotion taking precedence. Right now, all there was was the feeling of her hair between his fingers, the feeling of her body heat against his hands.
For another, Katara was almost always the one to initiate those hugs. He had hugged her back, of course, but it always sort of felt as if he was just allowing her to hug him, rather than actively participating. Now, he was the one doing something, while Katara sat quietly.
And kneeling there with her back exposed, her hands resting in her lap, completely trusting, she seemed a little vulnerable, a word he was not used to associating with Katara. She had such a strong personality, it was easy to forget that she was just two years older than he was. She seemed so . . . mature most of the time, so self-possessed, that it often made him feel like a little kid next to her. Not that what he was feeling right now was very child-like.
He knew what he felt for her, had known for a while. It had kind of crept up on him, and he hadn't known what to call it for a long time. He had always felt something special for her, ever since that first moment when he had woken and looked up into her blue eyes. The scene had expanded in his memory until it lasted for several minutes longer than had actually been the case.
His eyes had blinked open, meeting hers, and she had smiled a warm smile meant just for him. His heart had fluttered inside his chest at the sight.
Come closer, he had said, his long-silent voice hoarse.
Yes? she'd asked eagerly, leaning nearer. What is it? Their eyes had locked for what seemed an eternity, and everything else had fallen away.
Well, that was probably not quite how it had gone, but it was how Aang preferred to remember it. He knew he had felt something then, even if he had immediately asked her about penguin-sledding. On the ride back to their village, he'd found that somehow he just could not stop looking at her. Something in her eyes, her voice, her smile, had fascinated him. He remembered her asking him why he had been staring, and he wasn't really sure, himself. He hadn't even realized that he had been staring until she'd pointed it out.
It had taken him a long time to figure out what he felt for her, and he could not recall ever having a specific moment where he had thought, Aha! I understand now! I love her! It had merely been a slowly growing certainty, until he could not remember ever not loving her.
She was just so. . . Aang didn't have the words to describe it. She wasn't perfect. She had a fierce temper, and while she did not get angry often, she could hold a grudge. She was stubborn, too. She was always so sure that she was right, even if she wasn't, that it was difficult to change her mind about anything. She was kind of bossy, and liked things to be done in a certain way, and often got annoyed if they weren't. She didn't always think things through, either. She tended to rush off into danger without considering all of the possibilities, and while she usually had the best of intentions, she did not always get the best of results.
But she was also kind. Compassionate. She had an almost uncanny ability to empathize with others, and, with only a few exceptions, tried to see the best in people. She did her best to help anyone in need, even if they did not particularly want her help. She was brave, standing up for what she knew was right and not letting her fear get in the way, and she was clever, seeing solutions that others might not. She was honorable, patient, and caring. She seemed to feel it was her responsibility to look after everyone, even though they were all around the same age. Aang thought that might have something to do with losing her mother so young, and having to take care of her father and brother. Aang didn't know her father, but he got the feeling that he was not at all good at the minutiae of everyday life, especially if Sokka was anything to go by.
Her stubborness could sometimes be a good thing, too. She didn't give up, even when things looked bleak, and her eyes always seemed to be focused on the light at the end of the tunnel. It was something that Aang himself had often had trouble seeing.
And she was talented. Probably the best waterbender he had ever seen, besides Master Pakku, and he thought that with a few more years experience she might even be able to surpass him. Master Pakku was very, very good at what he did, but he was also a bit rigid. He had his waterbending forms down and they worked well, so he felt no need to change them. But Katara was beginning to create her own waterbending forms, using her body and her element in ways he had never seen before, even back a hundred years ago. She practiced every bit as hard as he did, going over and over the stances and movements until they were exactly right.
Aang sighed. The trouble was, he wasn't sure how she felt about him. He knew she was fond of him. He had heard her occasionally refer to him as her best friend. He loved that. He'd had many friends from all over the world when he'd traveled with the monks, but had never thought to consider them a best friend. He was never around long enough for that. Monk Gyatso was probably the closest he'd had to a best friend, and that wasn't quite the same either. The monk had really been more like a father to him, albeit a rather playful and unconventional one. Aang had looked up to him with great respect. Not that he didn't respect Katara, but he felt. . . equal to her, in a way he hadn't with Gyatso.
There were times with Katara that he thought she might feel something other than friendship for him. He had caught certain looks from her. Not just looks, but looks, that made his cheeks flush and his heart beat a little harder in his chest. Though that may have been just his own wishful thinking. Still, she often seemed to go out of her way to be close to him, especially lately. Sometimes she sat so near him that their shoulders brushed, and Aang would hold his breath, hoping that she would not realize it and move away. She often sought him out to talk when things were peaceful. And there was that time in the cave. Kissing had been her idea, not his, and though it hadn't actually happened, it might have, had she not been distracted at the last moment by those glowing crystals.
But she never said anything, and except for that one time never made a move toward a. . . different sort of relationship. Aang was hesitant to bring it up himself. The few times he had tried to tell her how he felt, he had been interrupted. And things were. . . nice right now. They hadn't had an argument in a long time, and there were those extra touches lately. He was happy, and he didn't want to mess things up. Not yet.
It got easier and easier as he combed through each snarl, until her hair was smooth as well as soft. Aang's hands continued to follow the path of the comb, his fingers digging in just a little. Her hair was only slightly damp, and warm underneath, where it touched her skin. He found himself leaning towards her, breathing in the scent of her hair. She must have put something in it, because it smelled very faintly of flowers. He leaned a little closer, trying to pinpoint the exact scent. Suddenly, Aang caught himself with his nose almost touching the top of her head. He rocked back on his heels, his face flushing.
What am I doing? he thought. He'd just said that he hadn't wanted to mess things up, and this was definitely heading into 'different relationship' territory. His heart pounded, and he was glad that Katara was facing the other way, so she couldn't see how red his face was.