The cake was a flat goo of chocolate, swimming in the round pan. It was a disaster. Katara grabbed the recipe out of the trash can, covered in wet dough she threw away. "Ugh," she groaned, wiping the residue on her apron.
She read the list again, eyes darting at her kitchen table, and made mental check marks to confirm each ingredient, each step. It was all there, the recipe was correct. Bake at 325 degrees for 30 minutes.
She gingerly touched the glass of the oven and immediately figured out the problem. It was cool, no sign of warmth. "H-How did this happen?" she asked out loud, like she was speaking personally to the baking gods who failed her.
The oven was never on. Katara was beyond mortified.
She buried her face in her cold hands, ashamed at her lack of baking skills. But before she could properly mourn the death of her cake, Katara jolted to her feet. There was a knock on her door. "No, no, no, no, no, no. He can't be here yet."
Of course he showed up on time. Zuko wasn't the most punctual guy in the world. His professors stopped tallying the amount of times he showed up late to class and considered him early when he was five minutes late. But today, on their one-year anniversary, when Katara's day was the epitome of Murphy's law, he had to show up on time.
The knocking continued, and Katara had no time to clean up her crime scene. She threw the apron off and tossed it under the table.
"Hey! Oh, my God! You're here early," her voice pitched, saying her words so quickly they were barely audible. She quickly shifted in front of the door, keys jangling in her hand. But before she could shut the door, Zuko extended his right arm and pushed his weight onto it. God, he was so strong.
"I smell chocolate," he whispered. He was so close that Katara could feel the heat of his breath. Her eyes remained on the floor. "No, you don't. Let's go," she said, yanking on the door knob for dear life.
But the door remained ajar. It took little effort for Zuko to keep it open, adding just a bit more weight to his arm. He bent his elbow, closing the distance between them, his chest hovering Katara's face. The contact made her squeak. She tilted her face up, gasped for air, and her lips brushed his Adam's apple.
Zuko's knees buckled, losing all sensation in his arms, and his hands grabbed her hips to keep steady. Katara won this battle, shutting the door with ease.
Zuko's eyes narrowed, staring at her, hands still gripping the tiny curves of her waist. "What's going on, babe?" he said softly, a hint of curiosity in his voice. Her face was beet red, eyes dropping back to the floor. "Nothing. I just…" her voice trailed, unable to finish her sentence.
He moved his head, trying to catch her gaze, but she remained fidgety, not wanting to look at him at all.
"It's nothing, okay?" she reassured him, eyes finally locked with his. She flashed him a quick smile. He raised an eyebrow, but his face quickly softened and smiled right back.
Zuko's hands slid off her hips and moved across the small of her back. He drew her in closer, his face lowering to hers, their lips hovering one another. Katara wrapped her arms around his torso, and tiptoed into his kiss.
Katara shut her eyes, her mind drifting off like smoke. Their lips smacked into each other, tongues sliding like two pieces of flint. There was fire, all right. Her hands snaked up his back, hands fisted onto his cotton Henley shirt, dragging him closer.
Zuko broke their kiss, his left arm dropping to his side, and his right arm still wrapped around her body. Katara's eyes snapped open. He gave her a quick smile, his eyes teasing. Before Katara could protest, his lips were on her neck, peppering her kisses. Katara giggled, lifting her shoulders each time his lips tickled her in a particular spot. "Zuko, stop," she teased, taking a few steps back, her hands sliding up and down his sides. He continued giving her small pecks, moving from her neck to her jaw. Katara could feel a grin growing on his lips, and her giggles were fading into quiet moans.
Katara's knees weakened, her body melting into his arm, and her arms dropped to her sides, hands searching for her door to brace. But her fingers caught the air as Zuko swung the door open with his free hand. That trickster!
Zuko spun her around, pushing her back into her apartment. He followed his nose and headed straight into the kitchen.
His eyes went wide and stared at the dining table. The table was no longer brown but covered in a blanket of white, a combination of flour and sugar. There were large bowls piled on top, the inside smeared in dark brown. His nose tipped up, tickled by the scents of vanilla extract and cocoa powder.
"You baked?" he said, stifling a chuckle. He couldn't remember the last time she baked. Has she ever baked anything, he wondered. His heart fluttered with excitement. "Let me get a piece."
He turned around to look at her, eyes bright, grinning from ear to ear.
Katara sat on her couch, hugging her knees, face buried deep underneath her arms. Oh, she could die of embarrassment any time now, she thought. She quickly got up, her feet stomping as she marched into the kitchen. "There's no cake!" she yelled. She opened the oven, took out the pan and slammed it on the counter next to the sink, splattering some batter on her hands.
She let out a frustrated groan. "I wanted to surprise you," she said while washing her hands.
Katara froze, hands dripping wet, when she felt Zuko behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "What did I ever do to deserve such a sweet treat?" he whispered, his tongue flicking the soft spot behind her ear. It was enough to relax her, his breath soothing her frustration away.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and she raised her hands behind her, grasping his black hair. "I just wanted to say…" she said, catching her breath.
Zuko pressed his lips at the back of her neck, his hands lightly tracing Katara's curves, moving ever so slowly down to the top of her thighs. "Say what?" he asked against her neck, his breath sending sparks on her skin.
Katara gasped, her left hand tugging strands of his hair, while her right hand grabbed onto the kitchen counter. "I wanted…" she panted, becoming less coherent. "Say…"
Zuko spun her around, and they both locked eyes, their gaze alight. His left hand was holding her back and the right one buried deep into her soft brown hair.
Katara's lips parted, ready for words to spill, but Zuko swallowed them into his kiss. She tilted her head, deepening the kiss, flicking her tongue to taste him. He pulled her closer, pressing her chest against him, feeling her heart racing. She whimpered against his lips. Her hands grabbed his collar, tugging so tight, stretching the neckline.
They needed to breathe, but neither of them wanted to be the one to break the kiss. Their lips continued to dance, one trying to lead the other.
"I…" Katara sighed, pulling her face back.
Zuko released his hand from her hair, resting it on her hip. He took a step back, giving her room to breathe.
Katara's lips were trembling, wet and swollen. She was still panting, and her eyes looked around for words she already knew wanted to say.
Zuko gently cupped her face, his thumbs caressing the cheeks. A slow smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"I love you."
Katara sighed with relief and buried her face into his chest, wrapping her arms around him. "I love you, too," she mumbled.
Saying those words was so much easier than baking a stupid cake.