Oh, my dear goodness. Bellatrix, Lily - I blame you for this.
Okay, so yes, I was introduced to ATLA by two horrible (wonderful) friends, and they have converted me to a fellow obsessor, and - well - I adore Katara and Aang. Because first of all, I'm obsessed with canon, and second, they're ADORABLE. I was basically squealing every time I saw scenes with them. So if you're a Zutara fan, read no further (ha).
Yup. Anyway. Fairly self-explanatory.
-Luna
Aang was nervous.
More than nervous – he was terrified. He'd never been this scared of anything in his life.
Not scared so much of what could happen to him physically, no. Yes – the Fire Lord could deal out serious destruction. The world was proof of that. He could be hurt. He could – he forced himself to think it – he could die.
But even that wasn't so much the source of his nervousness as the idea of failing. Failing the world, failing the Avatar, failing Katara.
Failing again.
Almost unconsciously, his hand drifted up to touch his scalp. It gave him a little more confidence, actually, to feel the smoothness – he hadn't felt right, covered in hair and a headband. He traced the lines of his arrow tattoo, marks so light upon his head that no one else could have felt them, and yet so familiar to him now. He was glad he didn't have to disguise himself anymore.
I may be outmatched by you, Fire Lord Ozai, he thought defiantly, but I'll be facing you as myself.
Katara and Sokka's father was talking, outlining the battle plans; Aang tuned him out. It wouldn't matter for him, anyway – he had his own destiny to contend with. All his energy was focused on Katara's face. Memorizing it, just in case.
She was the only one he hadn't yet said goodbye to – and – and –
He didn't know how he would handle it.
Suddenly, the others had all left – he'd barely noticed it. The world narrowed down to just him and Katara. Their eyes met, and he felt the familiar rush of his blood pounding faster through his veins.
Then they both spoke at once.
"Aang, I" –
"Katara, I" –
Aang would have laughed, if the situation hadn't been so serious. Instead, he looked away, out at the water, before meeting her eyes again. "You go first."
Her smile was slight, but beautiful all the same. "We've been through so many things together," she murmured, "and I've seen you grow up so much." His heart gave a little jump – so maybe she didn't see him as just a little brother – could it be? "You're not that little goofy kid I found in the iceberg anymore." Aang felt his cheeks grow warm; his pulse beat faster and he was glad Toph wasn't here to call him on it. "I guess" – Katara hesitated; her eyes were soft and Aang wanted to melt under their gaze – "what I'm trying to say is – I'm really proud of you."
He looked down at his feet for a moment, trying to get his blush under control. His whole body felt warm and even more buoyant than usual. He wanted to snap open his glider and soar into the air, do a few loop-the-loops and yell with sheer elation – and then he realized.
"Everything is going to be different after today, isn't it?" He inhaled shakily, wanting her to say yes and no at the same time.
"Yes," she agreed, "it is." There was an edge of fear in her eyes; he could see it, but he could tell that she was trying hard to be brave for his sake. Still – suddenly he let all his fears come rushing out.
"What if . . ." It was hard to say. "What if I don't come back?"
She was talking now, but he tuned her out – all she would say were reassurances that meant little; things he'd already heard and wasn't sure if he believed. When he went into battle today – that wasn't what he wanted to take with him. He wanted something solid. Something real.
And then he moved without really realizing what he was doing – his body acted without the permission of his mind, he just knew that if he died today, he couldn't die without her knowing – and as though from the outside he watched his hand reaching out, pulling her closer –
And then he jammed his lips against hers.
She was stiff at first, surprised – but then she responded; her mouth grew softer against his, he could have sworn she was leaning into him, if just for a moment – and oh, it was better than leaping, better than flying, better than anything he'd ever felt before in his life –
And then the reality of the invasion crashed down on him again. He had to go. And he couldn't give her the chance to talk, couldn't let her say anything to him that might possibly hold him back, that might prevent him from doing what he had to do. All he knew was that, no matter what, this was the moment he wanted to take with him.
So he pulled away, took one last look at her face – so beautiful, so unbelievably perfect – and then he set his jaw, snapped open his glider, and soared off into the sky.