Hey readers. :D A fic for thee. I'm so sorry for abandoning you guys.

NOTES: Aang is 16 and has broken up with Katara, and Mai and Zuko are no longer together either.

Zuko POV.

Summary: Something changes in Zuko and Aang's dynamic. Zuko doesn't know whether he loves or hates the way his feelings for the Avatar strengthen.

Basically fluffy short chapters, each in different styles, culminating in a lemon, hopefully. Although depending on reviews, I may upload the lemon separately so that the rating can remain at T.

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"Leave your hair down."

Zuko starts, dropping his brush with a soft clink. He sees Aang in the mirror and swivels slowly around. He draws his embroidered jacket across his chest, feeling so exposed.

"You're not done dressing yet, Zuko?"

He turns to see that that strange (delectable) smirk is back. Zuko can't decide whether he loves it or hates it or both.

"Neither are you," he points out dryly. Not that he hadn't noticed Aang's lack of clothing on his upper body earlier. The flat planes of his stomach, the tantalizing swoop of the blue arrow…don't drool or anything.

Aang grins lazily. "Mmm, yeah." He saunters over to the mirror and folds his lanky body into the chair just behind Zuko. Aang's legs brush the back of Zuko's knees. Even this most insignificant touch sets Zuko afire. And then, with no ceremony, Aang's long fingers pull the headpiece out of his hair and set it on the table. His hair cascades down his forehead, irritating his eyes but conveniently hiding a bit of his flushed cheeks.

"Better. Now you look like Zuko, and not the Firelord."

Zuko chooses not to respond, not trusting himself to give a coherent answer. He waits a few seconds before sighing, "We should get going."

"We should. But not when you're wearing that," he laughs and stands.

It is clear by their side-by-side reflections that Aang has changed a lot in the past three years. At 16, he is still growing into his new height, but possesses a kind of (magnetic) awkward grace. He is a head taller than Zuko, yet retains his lithe figure. His vibrant energy has cooled. He has become far more reserved, tactical, and as political-minded as could be expected of one of his age. And oh, his newfound charisma. The charming Avatar Aang, indeed.

However, he retains the simple joyousness and playful nature of his younger self—it just takes a little more to bring it out now. Zuko hopes that tonight's festivities will do so. Aang captivates him now more than ever, but sometimes he misses the Avatar he fell in love with four years ago.

He snaps out of his mild reverie just in time to feel Aang's hands on his shoulders. They slip down his throat—he can find no words. Tingling against the skin of his chest—his shallow breaths shudder. The slender fingers pause over his heart—it stops. And then the painfully delicious contact is gone.

Aang tugs on the ridiculous ornate lapels of his jacket. "You gonna take this silly thing off now? Or do I have to help you some more?"

Zuko is bewildered. He makes a little motion with his head. It could be a nod or a shake.

Aang shoots him an equally puzzled look. "What's wrong?" When Zuko just shakes his head and makes another vague motion, this time tugging at the sides of his jacket, Aang sighs. In one swift motion, his hands slip across Zuko's shoulders and the jacket falls to the ground. Then he tugs a still-dazed Zuko to his wardrobe.

"Wear this." He shoves a more casual shirt at Zuko and grabs a similar one for himself. "Hope you don't mind," he apologizes.

"...Whatever," Zuko responds gruffly. "Could you, uh, turn…?"

Aang just raises an eyebrow at him and then that smirk reappears. "You're sort of shirtless right now."

"Oh. Right." Zuko fumbles with the shirt for a second. His head comes out the arm hole.

"The Firelord isn't used to dressing himself on his own, huh?"

"No! I mean-I do. Sometimes."

"Need some help?"

Zuko glares playfully at him. He doesn't blame Aang for chuckling as he ducks into the shirt and straightens it, fabric and dignity ruffled. "No, I don't," he declares.

As Aang turns (he can almost hear that smirk) he half-wishes he had accepted the offer. Maybe it was pathetic, but he would take what he could get. A little touch here, a genuine compliment there-it could keep him going for days.

And maybe it was a trick of the firelight, or a trick of his longing heart, but he saw something different today in those stormy gray eyes.

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Maybe I'm being overly ambitious…but…five reviews for next chapter, please? I'm very needy. ;u;

I have the next three or four already typed up, so you readers won't have to wait for long if I get my five. Comments, crits, amusing flames? And yes, I do accept anonymous reviews.

Now stop reading this mindless prattle and click that button.