Disclaimer: I do not own ATLA or its characters.
97
Katara peered around the corner, her heart in her throat. Sokka was there, sitting on the couch, scarfing down a bowl of noodles that he should have let cool a few minutes longer. A month ago, sitting down with him wouldn't have given her a moment's pause. It would have been as natural as breathing.
That all changed the moment she announced the move. She knew that he was happy for her, but he'd been aloof ever since the announcement. She would join him at the dinner table, he'd barely acknowledge her, his eyes on his food. The day before, when he mentioned aloud that he wanted to run down to the cafe for a latte, she offered to join him, and she was pretty sure he'd said five words to her the entire time. Spirits, she'd even offered to go on a run with him- and she hated running. Her brother had politely declined, though not after a strange look in her direction.
Sokka wasn't dense, not by a long shot, which meant he was being deliberately obtuse. He knew what she was doing; he just didn't want to talk her.
And that stung. She and Aang had two weeks left before the move, and while things were progressive smoothly, his standoffish behavior was tearing a rent in her heart that sent her into a nervous spiral.
He was alone now, though, and clearly intending to be there for a while, based on the amount of noodles he had in that bowl. She sauntered over, trying to make it appear natural. Alerting him to her anxiousness was a sure-fire way to make him clam up.
"So," she started, as if they'd already been talking for hours, "you're not going to believe what Ty Lee told me in class this morning."
His eyes shifted to her for a moment before quickly sliding away, and she had to make an effort to keep a smile on her face. "What did she say?" he asked, eyes still trained on the TV.
"She said that when she cooks steaks, she doesn't use a single seasoning except for salt," Katara said. "I asked her where she heard that you shouldn't use any seasonings, and she said her dad's chef used to only use salt to tenderize the meat, and nothing else. Can you imagine?"
Sokka made a noise halfway between a grunt and an exclamation of pain as he swallowed a large mouthful of steaming noodles. "That's crazy," he said flatly after he swallowed, eyes watering from the heat.
She frowned. "That's it? That's crazy? Sokka, my brother, the meat-eating extraordinaire, doesn't have opinions on how someone else should cook their steak?"
"It's not like she said she likes it well-done. Seasoning is sort of a matter of opinion," he mumbled.
"As opposed to how cooked it is?"
Finally, he turned to face her, and for once, something other than stoicism was behind his eyes. She did a mental fist pump; it was step in the right direction. "A steak well-done is a crime against humanity," he said firmly. "You might as well eat rubber."
"That seems like an exaggeration."
He scoffed. "Hardly."
"I always like butter on my steaks. Butter, garlic, and Auntie Asuna's seasoning." She made a show of looking up thoughtfully. "I can't remember what's in Auntie Asuna's seasoning, though."
"Paprika, dry mustard, chili powder..." He leaned forward, grinning now. "But the real secret to her spice mix was the brown sugar. It crystallizes on the top, and..." He shut his eyes to hold on to the memory.
"Makes me want a steak," Katara prompted. "And I never say that."
He sighed with longing. "That sounds delicious right now." But his face fell, the momentary peace and liveliness falling away as he looked back at his bowl of noodles. "But I have this, so... I'm good."
"Oh," Katara said, unable to hide her disappointment. "Okay, yea. That's... that's fine."
"You could always order one yourself," he suggested. "I think 'Sozin's Steakhouse' delivers."
She shot him one final look, begging him to understand. "Delivery is so expensive. We could just, you know... go there."
"I mean, yea, I can come with you. If that's what you want."
"Don't strain yourself, Sokka," she sighed. "I wouldn't want to keep you from your noodles."
He frowned. "It's fine. I'll go."
Closing up the cafe in the evening provided an almost tangible relief for Zuko. Aang and Mai had been on shift with him that night, but business had been slow enough to allow him to work on some budgeting and orders for the upcoming summer season. And that was a relief, because proximity to Mai was driving him insane. He didn't know if he wanted to kiss her, or fight with her, or ignore her completely. He went with the third option, but it was hard to feign indifference with her watching him from afar.
Aang called out a 'goodbye', distracting Zuko from the dizzying monotony of searching through compost-able cardboard cup vendors for a moment. He leaned over his desk to wave him a peremptory goodbye as Aang pushed through the tinted glass doors. When he settled back into his seat, though, he nearly leapt from his skin.
Mai stood next to him, silent as a specter. He hadn't even heard her come in. "Spirits," he yelped. "Mai... you scared the shit out of me."
"Sorry," she said quickly, as if the word burned her.
"It's fine," he mumbled, already turning back to the computer. He was ignoring her, he reminded himself. Well, not ignoring her. Just... ignoring her.
But she reached for his shoulder with one long-fingered hand, and he paused his typing. "No," she said, shaking her head. "I mean, I'm sorry."
He stared at her.
"I mean..." She frowned with frustration. "Apologies aren't a strong suit of mine."
"You don't say?" he smirked.
She practically bared her teeth at him. "If you're going to make fun of me-"
"What do you want, Mai?" Zuko cut in. He was in no mood for another argument, another stupid conversation in concentric circles until the point either left a mark, or he missed it entirely. "I'm kind of busy, and not really in the mood to interpret whatever language you're speaking when it comes to the two of us."
"That's it," she snapped. "I hate that. I'm straightforward. I pride myself on that. I hate people who play games or riddles or act possessive. All that shit. I hate it."
"I haven't gotten that impression from you," Zuko drawled.
Mai looked away in embarrassment. "I know. Because I've been... shitty. I thought I was doing something to prevent the kind of possessiveness I hate- and I do hate it, Zuko, I don't want this apology to make you think otherwise. But I've been possessive of you, and that's hypocritical, and I'm really sorry."
He drummed his finger on the metal top of the break room table. "You should probably apologize to Jin, too-"
"Just you," she flared. "I can admit that it's ridiculous, but I don't like her. And I don't like her flirting with you."
A smile at this time would shatter the moment, he knew it. But he was having a hard time keeping one from his face. "Alright, then I won't flirt with her anymore. And, maybe next time she comes in, I can tell her that I'm dating someone else."
"No," Mai said, shaking her head.
What little smile he'd had drained away. "Are you serious, Mai?"
She held his eyes, and he held hers, and a thousand versions of the same old argument threaded through the air between them. But she broke before he did, her expression almost crumpling. "Why, Zuko? Just... just why? Like, you're going to get everything that you want."
"Do you even know what I want?"
"The usual, I presume," she scoffed, and just like that, she was back to infuriating. "Hand-holding, and snuggles, and late night kisses. Sex and affection and a best friend. I won't go around with other people- no, don't roll your eyes. I won't do that. I'm not like that."
Zuko crossed his arms. "So it's just the word 'dating' that you're afraid of? What the hell is so scary about that? Because what you described sounds an awful lot like dating to me, Mai."
"Dating is just a stupid label," Mai said. "It's pointless if I say I'm your lover, or your girlfriend, or your partner. It means the same thing!"
"No, it doesn't," he snarled, standing from his chair. "And I could argue with you back and forth about the arbitrary differences, except they're not arbitrary. Not to me." He snapped his laptop shut, yanking the cord from the wall in a way that ordinarily made his skin crawl, but he was too far beyond caring. He turned to go, ready to leave her and this conversation behind him. But he froze when he felt her hand close around his wrist.
"I like you," she blurted. "Okay?"
He glared at her. "I know you do."
"No- it's not just that. I like you a lot, and I'm afraid that we'll ruin it by making more of it than it needs to be."
"You're the one who's making more of this than it needs to be," he said, but he could feel his resistance dwindling.
Her tongue darted over her lower lip. "I won't be a good girlfriend," she murmured, and Zuko's heart stuttered at the promise in her phrasing.
"Well," he said slowly. "We'll see, won't we?"
When Suki walked through the door, still sweaty from Aikido, she had a brown bag in her hand and a secretive smile on her face when she rounded the corner into the kitchen. Sokka eyed her suspiciously, leaning back as far as the couch would allow. "What do you have?" he called to her curiously.
The silence in the kitchen was conspicuous, and he leapt over the back of the couch to go to her. She froze as soon as she heard him coming, dropping her body in a protective shell over whatever was in that brown bag, now resting on the counter top.
"What's in there?" he demanded.
"Nothing," she said, but her voice was too high, too breathy, like she was trying too hard to sound innocent.
He reached for the bag, one crumpled corner peeking out beneath her elbow. "Let me see-"
She curled even tighter over the bag. "No, it's not for you- damn it, Sokka, you're going to crush it-"
A scuffle ensued as he stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her away. But she wasn't skilled at Aikido for nothing, and before he knew it, he was pressed against the counter, the brown bag mere inches from his face, his arm twisted behind his back, just shy of painful.
"I said no," she purred into his ear. "It's for me."
"I just want to know what it is," he whined. He stood as she released him, rubbing his sore arm. "You didn't have to maim me."
She scoffed, rolling her eyes, before reaching for the bag and pulling out a massive cupcake, literally bouncing on her toes with excitement. He laughed affectionately at the sight. "I passed my first final," she said, peeling back a layer of cellophane. "And I saw this in the window of that bakery that opened up a few months ago."
"And you couldn't resist," he guessed, leaning against the counter.
"Look at it," Suki said, holding it out for him to inspect. "It was literally calling to me."
He laughed again. "It looks delicious."
"Don't even think about it," she scoffed. "You haven't taken any finals, yet. When you take yours, I'll buy you a cupcake, but let me have this one."
"Maybe this cupcake will bring me good luck," he said, leaning in to take a bite.
She snatched it away, holding it as far as she could away from him. Which was, admittedly, not very far. He reached for it again, and she turned around against the counter top, leaning over it and pressing her backside into his groin in a way that quickly shifted his attention elsewhere.
"I've got an idea," he said, his voice almost strangled.
"Absolutely not," she answered, catching on immediately. "Crumbs in my bed- are you insane?"
He reached for the cupcake again, but before his fingers could close over it, she took a massive bite, smearing icing all over her face. She chewed triumphantly, a satisfied smirk on her face and her eyes alight.
"Gross," he complained fondly.
Sokka could almost see the idea forming behind her eyes, and before he could move away, her face was pressed against his, rubbing back and forth, covering his face in icing and filling the kitchen with their laughter.
The sound of Sokka and Suki's laughter echoed through the apartment, and Aang frowned at Katara's sigh. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing," she muttered, setting aside the book she was reading.
He nudged her foot with his, giving her an encouraging look.
"I haven't heard him laugh in a while," she said finally. "Dinner tonight was torture. I had to drag every word out of him."
Aang wrapped his arms around her in comfort, pulling her close. "He just needs some time."
She frowned, her chin tipping downward. Her silence said enough.
A/N: sequel to the Minister will be titled The Accord. for anyone interested.