Summary: Eventual Kataang. When Roku high school senior, Aang Sora, was a little boy he often dreamt of being a superhero. As he grows up, this dream becomes stronger but more unreachable. One day he ends up in a tragic accident that leads to that surprising result. Be careful what you wish for…
A/N: Hellos! Thank you for clicking on this story, and thank you for your reviews. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters; I am just manipulating them to do my will.
Hit Me Again, I Dare You
March 11, 2013 — Spring Break — Roku City
"The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don't have any." —Alice Walker
When Aang was a little boy, he often dreamt of being a superhero. One of the cliché kinds with a long bellowing cape swishing behind him, and one who wore brightly colored underwear outside of their spandex, and one who flew above the streets of Roku City saving innocent bystanders lives and tossing criminals into jail like a person would shove a toy into the cramped space of an overstuffed box. It's times like these though, when the lunch rush is settling in and the smell of coffee wafted thickly through the air, that he realized he is not a superhero. He is just an ordinary high school guy, with prescription glasses way too big for his face, working at his Uncle's café.
Nothing super about that.
"Good afternoon and welcome to Momo's café, how may I help you?" It is a line well-rehearsed to the point where it is just automatic. He hears himself repeating these words in his dreams and nightmares alike.
A young woman, with blonde hair that highly resembles uncooked ramen noodles, put a red manicured finger up to her chin and glared down the static menu hanging behind Aang's head. Her hazel cat eyes narrowed as they drifted down towards Aang, sizing him up in a way that made him shift uncomfortably. "You might want to write this down," she husked.
"Oh, no worries ma'am." Aang tapped his work-cap and smiled. "I've got the best memory in all of Roku."
The woman scoffed at Aang's smugness. "We'll see about that," she muttered. "I want one Venti frappe, two pumps white mocha, extra foam, caramel drizzle on whip cream. Oh, and make it to-go."
Aang clenched his teeth into a gritty smile. He heard nothing past the word Venti. What the hell is a Venti? "Your order will be ready soon."
Stains are something ever present in Momo's café. Aang scrubbed a damp rag against a particularly nasty brown stain, his short fingernails trying to scratch it off of the marble countertop surface. It refused to budge. Laser vision would so come in handy right now. He could just squint his eyes and shoot the stain right off. Or melt it. Which would probably end up melting a chunk of the countertop off as well. Maybe laser vision isn't such a good idea...
"This is not what I ordered!"
Somehow, whether it was the secret telepathy sense Aang was sure he had or maybe the fact that when fixing the woman's coffee he forgot the minor, eh, okay most, details, he knew that voice was directed at him. Jumping up to attention, Aang smoothed out his fearful expression as best he could and prepared for the hurricane.
The woman stomped up to Aang, her nostrils flaring and her chest heaving up and down. "You got my order all wrong." She shoved the cup into Aang's idle hand. "I want a refund, and I want one now."
Aang glanced down at the cup, his forehead creasing with worry lines. "I'm sorry ma'am, but there are no refunds." He looked back up at her with genuine regret in his dark brown eyes. "Maybe I could remake it, free of charge, and—"
"No," she snarled. "I don't want you touching my coffee ever again. Never have I had something so revolting in my life! I am done with this establishment." She huffed and stormed out of the café, the bells chiming loudly at the force she exhibited on her way out.
Aang glanced down at the coffee in his hand again. It couldn't be that bad. Surely that woman was exaggerating. Bringing the Styrofoam cup up to his lips, he dubiously took a sip. Instantly he grabbed the sides of his stomach and spit the nasty warm brown liquid onto the floor. He wiped the corners of his mouth with a disgusted frown. Yeah, it was just that bad, and worst of all, he was going to have to clean up this mess.
Katara gripped the steering wheel firmly; it was all she could do to stay awake at the moment. The road looked like a blob of dark grey under the warms glows of the setting sun as she drove through a neighborhood of century old Victorian houses with primp grass and swings, that made it look like something pulled out of the perfect 1940s family movie.
It had been a rough day at the doctor's office, people coming in over the silliest things and then blowing a casket when she refused to look further into the matter. She was new to the scene of nursing, and one of the youngest there. People don't trust her medical opinion. One man came in because ostensibly he had a ghastly allergic reaction to water that made his face swell. This man was later admitted to a mental clinic after trying to choke the living daylights out of Katara for telling him he was not allergic to water, and that his face was not swollen.
One of the things Katara enjoys most about nursing would be caring for children. Today, though, she dealt with so many kicking and screaming brats that her mind feels like it's bleeding out of her ears due to permanent nerve damage. One brat threw up on her, and Katara has the sneaking suspicion that he did it on purpose.
Her scrubs still smell like apple chunks and oatmeal. But not in the sweet, 'it's a beautiful morning', kind of way. More in the, 'I wanna rip my fucking nose off', kind of way.
What a wonderful day. She sighed, slowing at a red light and bringing the car to a gentle stop.
"Just a few seconds won't hurt, the roads clear anyway," she told herself, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back against the seat rest.
A cool breeze snaked through the open car windows, filling the air with the fresh scent of blooming cherry blossoms and maple trees. It was so serene, the smell of spring and early summer mixed together, and she'd never get enough. Katara smiled in her daze, wishing this moment could last forever.
A horn blew, shattering Katara's moment of peace and making her foot jerk on the gas pedal. Her car screeched and came to an abrupt stop with a thud as someone flew down the street. The car behind her went around her, the driver glaring at her through his window and flipping her the bird. Gee, where are all these friendly people coming from?
"OW!" A man yelled, grabbing his injured leg.
"Shit." Katara's eyes widened and she hopped out of her car to examine the scene. A furry, gangly, and rather ugly dog lay nearby a young man who was in serious pain. Blood seeped through his tan cargo pants.
Aang looked completely out of it. His short brown hair looked tousled, and his clothes stuck to him in perspiration like he'd just run a marathon. He was dropped to his knees, examining his injured leg. At least his glasses weren't damaged. Katara cautiously approached them.
A sickening feeling twisted Katara's gut at the sight of the distraught man. There was no proper apology for this, but she would definitely try. "Hey, I'm sorry about that. Are you okay?"
Aang's big brown eyes darted up to the stranger, sparkling with unshed tears but hidden by the glare of the sun on his glasses. He looked momentarily surprised to see her, but quickly masked his emotions. "Were you driving that car…?"
Katara took a small step back and bit the inside of her cheek. "I um… I—" She nodded. No need to hide now. "Yeah," she sighed.
Aang got up from his kneeling position, with serious struggle, and stared up at Katara with red rimmed eyes. He looked completely speechless. A lump formed in Katara's throat at the sight. "I think you broke my leg," he said, numbly.
"I'm so sorry," Katara whispered, already knowing those words would never be enough.
"What were you drunk or something?" Aang spat. "Or did you just escape some mental facility?"
Okay, that was just taking it too far. Katara placed both hands on her hips and narrowed her blue eyes at the young man. "Now hold up a second. I'm sorry for hitting you, but that's no reason to—"
Aang grounded his teeth, his grey eyes turning two shades darker. "You ever heard of eyes? You should use them. They're for seeing you know."
Katara blinked, surprised. Oh no he didn't. She could easily point out the fact that he is the one wearing glasses right now, not her. But then again… she isn't the one who got hit by a car. That probably shot brownie points into the sky for any argument.
Sparks ignited as they glared each other down, neither willing to give up. Only when Aang collapsed onto his ass in a whimpering mess of pain was Katara jolted back to harsh reality. This man was in pain, and she was the root cause of it.
Biting her lip, she bent over the man and tried to help him up. Aang retracted like she was poison. "Ow!" he hissed. "That hurts!"
Katara rolled her eyes. "I'm trying to help you."
"Ha! I think you've done enough of that today," Aang said flatly.
Katara rolled her eyes hard and chose to ignore his comment. Meanwhile, Aang started wondering if her eyes could permanently stay that way. "If we don't get you help soon, it's going to get infected."
"What do you know about infections?" Aang challenged.
Katara made a noise between a laugh, a cough, and a sneeze. It was rather unattractive. "A lot." This boy was really starting to get on her last nerves. But she couldn't just desert him because that would be inhuman. Wouldn't it? Wouldn't it?
…
Yeah...
Wrapping one arm around Aang's waist, Katara helped the boy limp to her car with a crazed dog watching her every move and trying to climb up her leg.
Like hell that was going to happen.
"You will be hearing from my lawyer," Aang groaned, glaring as Katara helped him lay down in the back seat. If only he could afford one, for now he'll just stick with intimidation.
"I'm sure I will."
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