A/N:

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Prompt 11: Parallel

Katara leaned against the counter, biting into her PB&J sandwich. Zuko was thoroughly immersed in his book, paying no attention to his own sandwich.

"What are you even reading?" she asked with a raised brow.

"It's this novel," he said, turning the page quickly, "about parallel universes and stuff. I dunno. It's good."

"Sounds weird," she said, but he didn't rise to the bait. "…I'm going to eat your sandwich if you're not."

He didn't move. She reached over to snatch it off his plate, but he quickly grabbed it and shoved half of it in his mouth, glaring at her half-heartedly; soon after, he started coughing and beating his chest with a fist. She handed him a glass of water, laughing.

"Alright, cool kid," she said with a teasing smirk, taking the other half of his sandwich as he tried to clear out his throat or lungs, or both. "Tell me about the story."

There was a thirty second pause where he was still hacking up anything lodged in the pipes and then chugging down more water.

Finally, when he was settled, he answered, "I already did."

She shook her head at his simplicity. "Details, Zuko."

He shrugged, glancing from her and the paper, but when it looked like she wasn't going to give up (and she wouldn't; he knew better than to read on her watch), he bookmarked the page with his finger and leaned against the counter with a hidden exasperation.

"It's just…" He pursed his lips and stared at a stain on the wall.

"Some time this century, Zuko."

He made a motion of looking up at the ceiling and mouthing the word why, to which she laughed and threw the crusts at him.

"It's kind of weird," he explained after fending off the bread attack. "It's like a collection of stories where the same two characters, Oma and Shu, end up in different universes, like reborn again or something, but they don't know it. And then they go through hardships or whatever. It's something different each time."

"Hmm," she said, nodding her head. It sounded interesting enough. Katara herself was more of a nonfiction reader or a documentary-watcher, but it was fun to listen to what Zuko was obsessing about (especially because the last two weeks he had to suffer through her newfound love for mushrooms and the Did you know? facts about them).

"So," she started. "It's a romance novel?"

"Sort of…" Zuko said, embarrassed.

"Hmm," she hummed again, noticing the red on the ears. "Do they end up together?"

"Not always."

"Wow," she said. "I can't believe you're still reading it."

"What do you mean?"

Now it was her turn to shrug.

He frowned, his eyes scrutinizing her accusingly though she hadn't said anything offensive — yet. Katara pushed herself off the counter and opened the fridge, taking out the orange juice and then grabbing two cups from the cupboards.

"You're kind of a romantic, you know," she remarked. As her back was to him, she smiled to herself, but he didn't get defensive like he usually did.

"…So?" was all he said.

She poured the juice in and then returned the container to the fridge. Handing him his glass, she leaned her back against the surface beside him; he had his arms crossed. She recognized the crinkles around his eyes, the ones that only came out when he was thinking about his purpose in life or his place in the universe or why she always bugged him.

"So I'm surprised you're sticking with it," she finished. "You normally get fed up. Remember that one book, Betwixt?"

His left eye twitched; she hit a sore spot. Katara tried not to laugh. He would never let that book go.

"This is better written," he argued. "And there are action scenes and magic and monsters."

"Uh huh."

She felt the frustrated growl before she heard it. Zuko opened his book back up, cursing when he saw that he had lost his page when he shifted positions.

"I watched a documentary about the theory of parallel universes and stuff," she mentioned suddenly, recalling the late nights eating popcorn, absorbed in the narration, though she couldn't recall the title.

"Cool," he said.

This time, she couldn't keep the laughter in, giggling as she rubbed his hair even though he was a good head and a half taller than her. He always complained that she always messed it up (which was amusing and confusing, as he never did anything with his hair).

"Don't be mad," she snickered.

"I'm not mad," he snapped.

"Okay, then answer my question."

"You didn't ask a question."

"Sure I did," she said innocently. "If you weren't mad, you would've heard it."

He glared at her.

She hadn't asked a question, but she still smiled and blinked without guilt, raising her glass and motioning for him to do the same until they both clinked. They sipped it with their pinkies out, and she felt a surge of pride that she knew all of the ins and outs and buttons to press.

"I asked if you believed in them," she said, "in parallel universes and other worlds."

"I dunno," he replied. "You tell me, Miss Scientist."

"Well, there's no definite evidence for their existence, but there's no evidence that they don't exist, either."

Zuko shook his head; his bangs swished side to side as he did so, reminding her to nag him later about getting a haircut.

"That's always your answer," he said.

"Well, that's what I think."

They both finished their drink. She pulled the book from his hands after a bit of coaxing (he still remembered the last time she accidentally dropped it in the toilet — it started off as a harmless joke, but that was how accidents and funny stories always started), and while she read the back and the spine and the ending, he washed the plates and cups.

She was humming a lullaby under her breath when the thought struck her. She closed the book shut with a soft thump; a rush of scented air hit her, the smell of new paper.

"Hey, you think there are parallel versions of us out there?"

From the sink, Zuko answered, "Could be. Why not?"

"You think we're friends?"

"Maybe. Or maybe we're enemies. Maybe I'm hunting you down because you're a fugitive or something. Or, you know, maybe you're an ant and I just stepped on you."

"Hey!" Katara exclaimed, kicking his butt lightly.

He whipped around faster than she thought he could; she swore in surprise. Water droplets flew at her as he shook his hands in her direction, but she quickly regained the upper hand when she held his book as hostage. Readying her foot, she aimed to hit his thigh, but because he moved at a weird angle and she wasn't the best at aiming, she almost hit his crotch. Both of their eyes widened and he jumped back a foot, swearing at her while she snorted and laughed, and then suddenly she was in the air staring at his back because he had lifted her up over his shoulder despite her constant demands that he never do it again.

He made it to the carpet of the living room before falling — she kneed him in the stomach.

"Accident!" she shouted apologetically. "Sorry, sorry!"

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, doubled over. "I'm starting to think you're doing it on purpose."

She made a face between guilty and amused, but when he pointed at her necklace and then flicked her nose when she looked down, she knew he wasn't mad. She didn't bother with retaliating, though, knowing that if she tried, she'd probably poke out an eye — his eye, of course, and it would be accidentally.

Katara picked the book off the floor and dusted the cover off. Handing it back to him, she sat down on the ground; he crossed his legs and checked to make sure none of the pages were bent.

"I think we do know each other," she announced.

"Huh?" He didn't look at her, still examining his precious book.

"In the parallel universes."

"Why's that?"

"I dunno," she said. "It's a little weird to think otherwise."

There was a pause. She saw the smile.

"Yeah," he said.

The last page was bent. He flipped to the end and unfolded it, frowning when he saw that the crease was large and deep. She saw his eyes glance at a paragraph and then quickly look away, but it must've been a tantalizing word because he glanced at it again before shutting the book in a panic. It was one of her favorite quirks.

"You wanna know the ending?" she teased.

"No."

"Yeah, you do," she said. "You saw that last paragraph — pretty intense, if I do say so myself. It is pretty good writing."

He stared at her emotionlessly, but he fingered the page and she knew his answer before he did.

"They die," she told him. "Oma and Shu. It's their last death or something. They don't get reborn again — that's what it seemed like, anyways. I only scanned it so that's all I caught."

"Oh," he said, and it came out quietly. She hadn't expected that.

He looked down at the book with an expression that she had only seen once in her life (in front of the glass window where Azula lay on the ground, tied up and foaming at the mouth; and he had been holding her hand so tightly that day that she thought he was trying to merge their limbs together to never again separate), and then her arm twitched in response. She suddenly felt bad for telling him the truth.

"Oh, come on, Zuko," Katara said quickly, pulling him up off the ground. She chunked the book somewhere behind her, not missing the annoyed jerk of his eyebrow. "The real parallel worlds aren't even like that. I bet we get together in all of them — err."

She felt her face heat up.

Katara cleared her throat and averted her gaze. "Well, we don't even know if they exist so it doesn't even matter. Stop looking at me like that. Shut up."