Waking up next to Zuko would be lovely, Katara thinks, if it were remotely possible. But it's not. Maybe it's some mystical ninja training he was subjected to as a child, maybe there's something in the water that mutated him; she has no idea. Whatever the reason, Katara is well and truly positive that Zuko's head would explode if he tried to wake after the sun.
This is very frustrating for the night-owl, late-waker that she is (who in their right mind wakes before six anyway? Seriously?). There is, however, an upside. Zuko, who is surprisingly sweet and adorable despite the Asian bad-boy image, has a thing for bringing girls breakfast in bed. It's very flattering and wonderful and amazing and she's not sure how she'll go back to waking up alone when this break is over. It's not something she wants to think about. Instead, Katara focuses on the sound of her (really, in the last few days, it's unofficially become Zuko's as well) bedroom door opening, a sound so faint that she almost didn't hear it (no, she is not already awake and waiting for him. Complete coincidence. Seriously). She doesn't hear him cross the carpet, but she feels his rough, calloused hands ghost across her back and up her arms, lifting away a tangle of curls and pressing a kiss to the base of her neck. His lips press against her shoulder, right beneath her ear, her cheek. She shivers, more than half-awake and way more than half-aroused. Katara opens her eyes just as he kisses her lips, soft and quick and sweet and then the dork kisses her nose.
"Hungry?" he asks, helping her sit and handing her a tray.
She'd argued with him for the first few mornings, demanded that he jump back in bed and finish what he'd started or else. Zuko, though, is a lot like her; stupidly stubborn and ridiculously adorable.
"I'm hungry for you." Katara tells him with the most disgruntled look she can manage, even as she picks out a blueberry muffin.
At this point Zuko is usually grimacing through a cup of tea (a stupid promise to a very beloved uncle he'd once explained after a particularly horrified expression on her part), but he still has the gall to smile back at her with all the innocence of a choir-boy. She can't understand why he won't sleep with her before breakfast, but he won't explain (his face will turn the most adorable shade of red, though). Zuko is odd like that, but Katara won't even deny loving that about him.
"So," she asks around a mouth full of muffin, "What's the plan for today?"
He snatches a section of her muffin, "It looks like a toss-up between Six-Flags or Sea World."
Katara is benevolent enough to overlook Zuko's muffin transgression and quickly jumps aboard the Sea World campaign. He makes a face, rolling his eyes (he's not too keen on driving down to San Diego, especially considering the nasty motion-sickness he often suffers from).
"We could do something else," she offers despite herself, "There is the beach or maybe we could go to the Santa Monica pier?"
Zuko shakes his head, but there is a glint in his eyes.
"I'll take you to the pier tonight," he offers," After dinner."
Her head bobs up and down on it's own accord and Katara comes to realize exactly how much she want to go on a real date with Zuko. She must be grinning like an idiot, but that's okay because Zuko is too.
"I can't wait." She tells him, leaning over to kiss him hard on the mouth.
Despite her morning breath and blueberry strained teeth, she's convincing enough that Zuko gets around to finishing what he'd started. Katara hardly has the opportunity to rub it in his face; she's too busy drowning in the euphoria. It's so easy to forget how temporary this is and for a short few minutes she succeeds.
The group eventually votes for Six-Flags (Toph had suddenly decided to become very vocal about the plight of blind people) much to Zuko's relief and her annoyance (inviting Sokka along was a bad idea). The ticket lines are long and the sun is a vengeful presence in the sky, but the Bei Fong heir has little trouble securing a few fast passes. It becomes clear that the absence of ride-lines makes everything infinitely better (except for Zuko's weak stomach, but she's nice enough to rub his back while he vomits in the bushes). It's a lot more fun than Katara expects, but all too soon it's evening and she's strolling along the Santa Monica pier with Zuko.
It's almost hilarious, really. They're both over-dressed, more like this is a real first date. Katara slips her hand into his and despite reason and common sense shouting at her, tries to pretend that this really is the first date. Technically, she's not far from the truth (this is a "date" and it is the "first"), but this unexpected relationship with Zuko has been very clear from the start.
It's just a fling, she'd told him, No promises or strings. We part in two weeks and that's that.
He'd looked at her for a long moment (it was hard to concentrate on his face and not the fact that they were both half-naked) and agreed. He hasn't mentioned a girlfriend or relationship, but Toph had let it slip that there was an ex-fiancée with a thing for pre-martial cheating. It was clear that neither wanted to dwell on their own relationship problems. It so much easier to pretend that Jet doesn't exist and Zuko is new boyfriend, at least for these few short weeks.
"I've had fun tonight," she tells him, "So thank you."
Between a noodle dinner at a random vendor and wasting money on rigged games (very much worth the koalasheep plushie he'd presented her with, though) and wandering on the pier this night has been absolutely wonderful. She kisses his cheek, standing on her tip toes with on hand balanced on his arm. Zuko smiles, but says nothing. He squeezes her hand.
Katara hasn't been this happy in a long time. She can't imagine any other place she'd rather be; anchored to Earth by Zuko's warm, calloused grip. This euphoria, this pleasure and love and joy is so temporary, as wonderful as it is painful. She didn't know it was possible to feel so happy and yet so, so sad at the same time. She wishes this night didn't have to end.