A/N: I love all of the dark blood-bending fics, but I wanted to try writing something that showed Katara using the skill casually, perhaps even with some humor? This was my attempt at that.
Many thanks to all who have left such lovely reviews! I have three more short chapters planned before this is finished.
"I don't even want to go out tonight. / No, I've got you by my side. / I don't even need to sugarcoat it, girl. / No, I've got you by my side." - George Ezra's "Sugarcoat"
Zuko drummed his fingers on the desk absentmindedly as he read the last few lines of the latest correspondence from Iroh, which had come via messenger hawk to the South Pole earlier that afternoon. The Xiao region is experiencing flooding, and the people there – Zuko stopped reading as a curious sensation came over his hand. As he watched it dumbly, he saw his own hand slow its tapping and then rest itself, gently, next to his inkwell, through no exertion of his own.
He flexed his fingers, and as the odd sensation faded, looked across the room where his companion-in-paperwork sat, innocently reading through her own correspondence. He returned to reading and, within a few seconds, began drumming his fingers. Again, his hand stilled itself.
Well, two could play at this game.
The letter forgotten, he leaned back from his desk and yawned, studying Katara in the glow of her lamp as she continued to read. They had lighted the whale-oil a few hours ago when the sun had set in the late afternoon. Though moonlight spilled into the room from the window, its beams did not reach to her desk. Zuko exhaled deeply and -
-Pfft. The lamp on Katara's desk sputtered and went out. Looking up from her reading for the first time, she raised an eyebrow at him. He returned her gaze with a smirk. Wordlessly, she reached into her drawer for the matches. Zuko breathed in as the match scrrtched across the flint and -
Scrrrtch – Pfft.
Scrrtch – Pfft.
Scrrrtch – Pfft.
Scrrtch –
Katara smiled triumphantly as the flame finally caught on the match, enabling her to re-light her lamp. Settling into her chair, she picked up her parchment.
Pfft.
Zuko watched a smile twitch across her face and then, stubbornly not looking at him, she picked up the scroll and marched to the window to read by moonlight.
Satisfied with his victory, he picked up his brush to begin a response to Iroh. He dipped it into the inkwell only to find that it had, quite coincidentally, been frozen.
Chagrined, Zuko broke into a broad grin and, pushing away from his desk, strode over to his wife. Wrapping his arms around her smaller frame, he nuzzled her neck.
"Truce?" He asked. In a moment, he felt his arms stiffen and lock into place, and he groaned theatrically.
Katara murmured, "I am almost done reading this report from Ty Lee."
Zuko looked down at the paper she held. With a quiet sizzle, the top corner began to smolder.
Breaking into laughter, Katara released his blood and set the smoking document onto her desk. In the moonlight she looked up at him, matching his grin, and uttered a single word:
"Truce."