Crush
Words: 1,422
Crossover: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Pairing: Zuko/Harry Potter
Beta: Nobody. Ever.
Warnings: None, except Zuko being the most awkward cinnamon bun to exist. Have I mentioned how much I love him?
Scowling, he looks down at the thick volume before him. English, the language written down is English, but all he can think is how it isn't his own.
This new world they've found themselves in is strange and exotic and completely and utterly different from their own. The people here don't bend, unless magic counted as an element. And even then, they use sticks (wands, his mind berated him) to do it. As if they aren't one with it. Doesn't using an aid make them weaker? Back home, there's no way he'd have been allowed to-
He shakes the thought of, turning back to the book and starts to doodle on his length of parchment. It's been a long time since he's thought of home, since he's thought of his father and Azula and his mysteriously absent (not dead not dead not dead) mother. He's not sure if it's home anymore.
Toph, Katara and Sokka are loving it here, and even though when they arrived Aang had been filled with guilt about 'abandoning' their world again, it has slowly worn away into grudging acceptance, and now the Avatar is just as happy as his friends to explore this new world. But Zuko feels incredibly awkward and uncomfortable. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that his name means nothing here, or that he still doesn't really know the capabilities of these wizards and witches, and doesn't know if he's safe. If he could fight, and win.
And they tell him he's paranoid to think like that, but even with Aang being the Avatar and Katara and Sokka losing their mother, they have not seen the sides of the war that Zuko has. Perhaps it is a little unfair, to believe they have suffered any less than he has, but that is not exactly it. They've been hurt, just as Zuko has, but they've also managed to keep their innocence. Their naivety.
Zuko has not.
Despite all this though, there is something that makes Zuko feel brighter and more hopeful - or perhaps he should say someone. When he was younger he'd always imagined he'd love Mei forever, but as he grew and she stayed loyal to Azula, his resentment for her grew until there is no way he can claim to love her anymore. And yet, there is also no way he can do anything about his current crush, either.
The door to the library opens with a soft creak, and as Zuko looks up, he sees the very boy he's been thinking about walk in, cheeks red and fingers clutching tightly around the strap of his book-bag. His hair is a messy and curly black cloud sitting atop his head (as always), and Zuko kind of really wants to wrap his arms around the boy and shove his nose into his hair. He bets it smells great. And maybe that's kinda creepy...
The room feels a little warm as he looks away from his face and at his standard black school robes - robes that hide very well exactly how tiny the boy really is. Zuko might've been fooled, if not for that one time he'd accidentally walked in on the boy changing - an incident that still causes him to do a reasonable impression of a tomato. at the memory of it.
His eyes wander higher again, and catch a peek of a strange red scar half hidden under a fringe. And that is the reason he has no chance (not that he would've, anyway). The boy he has a crush on is none other than Harry Potter, saviour and darling of the wizarding world. There is no way Zuko would be an acceptable partner in anyone's eyes. Not here.
Harry is talking to the librarian now, Madam Pinch or Prince or something. She looks on at him with her lip curled in disapproval, but then again she looks at everything but her books that way. Harry seems nervous, rubbing the back of his neck and laughing awkwardly. Zuko stares shamelessly at the soft profile of his face as the woman (Pince!) finally points him in his general direction, and when the boy looks over Zuko looks away hurriedly, hoping against hopes that he hasn't been caught looking (like a creep!).
He doesn't seem to notice. Instead, Harry makes a beeline straight for his part of the library and walks right on past until he reaches the section of the bookshelf he wants, and starts browsing. He doesn't spare Zuko a glance, completely focused on his self-appointed quest, and Zuko doesn't know whether to be grateful or upset.
He decides on a confusing mixture.
He looks up again after another two minutes, unable to keep his gaze away. He might not even be on Harry Potter's radar, but he's also kinda really awkwardly infatuated (Zuko style), so he's sort of helpless to stare. Creepily.
He's so hopeless.
As he watches, Harry stretches out to reach the book he's been eyeing, and his sleeve rides back a little to display his bare wrist.
Zuko freezes, staring. Never before has he found wrists particularly enchanting, but he can't help but stare at the small patch of smooth skin, the curve of the palm bending into a firm forearm, the small rounded bone of his wrist.
It is surprisingly erotic.
He looks away, flushed.
Time passes in an odd kaleidoscope. He tries to focus on the words on the page before him, but even as he keeps from looking back at Harry, he finds he can't concentrate. His mind is filled with sickeningly sweet fantasies of him and Harry, of touching each other and smiling at each other and kissing-
He shakes his head, trying to cool the sudden warmth of his skin, and deems his endeavour a failure. Of course, as is law, he fails to look around as he pulls his chair out and stands up suddenly, and he knocks into someone walking behind him hard.
"Oof!" comes the exclamation, and Zuko turns quickly, almost falling himself in the process. As it is, he does stumble over his chair, but luckily lands on his feet right in front of-
Oh Lord.
He drops to his knees, rambling. "I'm so sorry!" he shouts, and misses the angry cough from somewhere over the talk shelves. He's too busy helping the boy he's been crushing on since he got here pick up the books he dropped. Which is Zuko's fault. Completely.
He wants the ground to swallow him up.
They stand simultaneously, and Zuko knows he's blushing bright red as he shoves the books into Harry's arms.
"I'm so, so sorry," he says again, and then makes the mistake of making eye contact. And then he freezes.
Harry's eyes are green, but that's not really right. What they really are, is a mixture of greens, jade and emerald and bright, almost-yellow shards that make some kind of unreal, magical mixture, and it is then that he realises he's staring, and that Harry's face has gone a bright red as he stares, silently, back.
"Oh. Uh," he tries, and feels like kicking himself because really? He never stutters, and he's never lost for words - not in front of anybody. He's a prince, after all! But Harry - unassuming, scruffy Harry - is so much more, and he finds it a little difficult to breathe.
"Sorry," he manages eventually, his own cheeks pinking.
"Oh, it's fine," the boy replies. He bites his lip, clearly awkward, and now he's staring at Harry's lips. They're really pink, almost like a girl's really, not that he makes it a habit to notice this sort of stuff. But, he supposes, they look pretty soft, and he wonders if they'd feel as soft as they look, and then he's broken out of his reverie by a soft gasp.
He looks back up and Harry's staring at him, eyes wide and cheeks almost glowing with embarrassment and, maybe, arousal. Or so he hopes.
"I should - my friends are, ummm... waiting." He trips over his words, lowering his eyes shyly, and he has just enough time to realise it's absolutely adorable before he registers the words, and by then Harry has already turned tail and hurried away, as fast as he can without running.
He takes a deep breath, staring after a retreating back, and feeling absolutely lost. "Fuck!" he shouts, and fuck indeed, because he thinks he's in love.
Madam Pince, unaware of this revelation, kicks him out.