Author's Note: Would highly recommend listening to "Loud Places" by Jamie xx on loop while reading this, because that's exactly what I did while writing.
Rated M to be safe. Enjoy xx
Loud Places
By Ninazadzia
"I go to loud places
To search for someone
To be quiet with
Who will take me home
You go to loud places
To find someone who
Will take you higher than
I took you…"
~ Loud Places, Jamie xx
"Remind me again why I let you talk me into this."
He manages a smile, half-turning to face her. Her normally bronzed skin is ghost white as she scans the crowded room in front of them. The low, drumming tones of the bass reverberate through the atmosphere, and the air is thick with the smell of smoke and alcohol. Scantily clad women walk by them, carrying trays haphazardly loaded up with shot glasses, the liquid inside of them glimmering like fire-crackers.
He'd suspected before that Katara had never set foot in a Fire Nation club. The look on her face all but confirms it.
"C'mon. We could both use a night of fun," he responds.
"You're not wrong. But this?" She turns, this time locking her eyes with his. "Zuko, I've got to tell you—I'm surprised this is your idea of 'fun.'"
He shrugs. She's right, of course. The last time she'd seen him, he certainly wouldn't have been caught dead in a club like this. "What can I say? Being Firelord, this sort of stuff comes with the territory. Besides, the drinks here are phenomenal."
She rolls her eyes, motioning in front of them. "Lead the way then," she says, before adding, "your highness."
He chuckles, offering her his arm. She takes it, without any of the reluctance he would've expected her to. Especially given the circumstances of her visit.
When he'd gotten Katara's letter that previous week, he truthfully hadn't been too surprised to hear the news about her and Aang. Part of that was the fact that he got semi-regular updates about their relationship from Suki, who had been his personal bodyguard since the end of the 100 Year War. And while he always saw Suki's relationship with Sokka lasting, he knew deep down that Aang and Katara's was a ticking time bomb. It was a matter not of if they broke up, but when.
Still. Credit where it was due—he hadn't expected them to make a ten-year run of it.
They find their place at the back of the club, where an iridescent table awaits them stacked with various liquors and mixers. "I don't think I've been to a bar since the last time we went out together," she muses as she takes her seat, taking a moment to settle into the plush, velvet cushioning.
She sticks out like a sore thumb in her attire—while all of the other women wore the staple Firenation club uniform of blood red bandeaus and miniskirts, she was dressed head to toe for an outing at the south pole. Her dress was practically identical to the blue silk one he'd met her in all of those years ago.
"Let's hope it doesn't end like it did last time," he replies with a grimace.
Her face flushes. "Sorry for bringing that up," she says quickly.
He waves a hand dismissively, pouring her a glass of champagne. The flute sparkles as the liquid hits the bottom. "Don't worry about it." He hands her a glass, raising his own in her direction. "It's good to see you, Katara."
She smiles, clinking the tip of her glass to his, before taking a long, drawn-out sip.
Loose, brown tendrils fall around her face as she knocks the drink back. He has to stop for a moment and remind himself why she's here—to see an old friend, and to have a good time. End of story.
"So," he starts, settling back into the sofa cushions. "Do you want to talk about it?"
She sighs, mirroring his body position and reclining as well. "I don't even know. I mean, how much do you already know?"
"Not much."
She scoffs. "I find that hard to believe."
"Seriously. Suki told me Sokka didn't say much." He pauses for a moment before adding, "I haven't heard a word from Aang, if that's what you're wondering."
She rolls her eyes. "Well, of course you haven't."
He furrows his brow, trying his best to keep his expression blank. All the while, his heart starts pounding. "What do you mean?" he asks, slowly.
She raises an eyebrow, before letting out a half-exasperated laugh. "Seriously, Zuko? Oh come on, don't play dumb."
He shakes his head slowly. He feigns confusion, all the while trying to push the racing thoughts out of his head. I couldn't have been right... could I? he wonders.
Before he can think more of it, she waves a hand dismissively. "Anyway, it's not like it matters. Aang and I…" she sighs, taking a drawn out sip from her champagne glass. "I love him, I always have. But I think after the war ended, after everything we'd been through together, I just felt…. I don't know, like we owed it to ourselves to give things a try?" She tops off her champagne glass. "I don't know if that makes any sense. But we were so close, and he just checked off all of my boxes. You know, had all of the qualities I could want in a partner. Even if it wasn't…"
She trails off, her words hanging in the air.
"Passionate?" Zuko offers.
She turns to face him, the corners of her mouth turning up into a half smile. "No, it wasn't passionate."
Her gaze searches his for a moment. She opens her mouth to say something, and then stops suddenly, as if thinking better of it. "What?" Zuko asks.
"Nothing," she responds, a little too quickly. He raises an eyebrow, pausing and letting her words hang in the air.
"Alright, fine, screw it—" she sets her drink down at the edge of the table. "You haven't heard from Aang because he's always been threatened by you. By our friendship, specifically."
He nods. That much makes sense—ever since the War, Zuko and Katara had been close, and exceptionally so. It was one of the most surprising developments in their group, given how contentious things between the two of them had been in the beginning. But once the dust had settled and the world slowly returned to normal, or at least the semblance of normal, it was Katara that Zuko found himself confiding in the most. She was the one he went to for advice on every decision he made as a leader, every fight he had with Mai, every moment he spent looking for his mother and trying to repair their relationship.
There is something about Katara, at the end of the day, that he just couldn't quite put his finger on.
"Is that why he's been ignoring my letters? Because he's worried I'm going to take your side in the breakup?"
She waits a moment and looks down at her glass before responding. "Not exactly."
His heart skips a beat. "What do you mean?"
"He's…" she searches for the right word for a moment. "Jealous, I guess. Of you."
"Aang?" Zuko scoffs. "He's the Avatar, what does he have to be jealous of?"
Katara's face flushes crimson. She opens her mouth to say something, and then quickly shuts it. "I don't know about you, but I could go for a dance."
The night passes in a blur of iridescent lights, pulsating music, and strong drinks.
At around her third drink, Katara ditches the robe, announcing her polar water tribe garments to be "too hot" and stripping down to her slip. She finally fits in with the rest of the crowd as she meanders over to the dance floor, dragging Zuko along with her. It's at this point that they're moving to the music, their feet un-synchronously carrying them across the dance floor, that he confesses he's been to this club almost every weekend for the last six months, and has never once—until tonight—set foot out on the dance floor. "I'd just get a good buzz going in the corner, and wait for some random girl to recognize me," he manages to shouts over the music.
"Zuko, what the hell?" Katara yells, half out of frustration, half to beat out being drowned out by the bass player. She shoves him, then plays it off with a laugh. "That's terrible! That's not like you at all, what's gotten into you?"
"What can I say? I'm making up for misspent youth!"
She giggles, her laughter no doubt enhanced by the alcohol. "Yeah, we really screwed up making the most of our teen years, didn't we?"
He shrugs, watching as a bittersweet shadow cast across her face. No doubt they would've spent it differently if they weren't fighting a war. A war his great grandfather had started, at that.
The music drops in cadence, taking on a much slower, quieter tune. He pulls her close, swaying his hips to the same movement as hers. "Could've been worse," he says. "I mean, if we hadn't screwed them up so badly, I never would have met you."
She bites her bottom lip. He doesn't know when it happened, but all of the sudden she's very, very close to him. He can smell the perfume wafting off of her skin. "Can I tell you a secret?" she whispers in his ear.
He wraps his arms around her. She's still swaying her hips. Only this time, they're pressed up against his. She's so close he can hear the beating of her heart. "Go for it," he responds.
Her lips are all of inches from his. Her sea blue eyes look up to meet his. "Aang was threatened by you because he knew I was attracted to you." She brings a hand up to meet his face. She holds it, just like she did all of those years ago, when they were in prison together in Ba Sing Se. "Not that I ever admitted it," she adds.
Zuko swallows a lump in his throat. "C'mon," he says, grabbing her hands. He knows the time has come to whisk her away from the dance floor, to go somewhere more private. "There's something I need to talk to you about."
It's electric, the feeling of her lips against his.
They're back in his palace. What comes next is a conversation both of them know are years overdue. He doesn't know if it's the alcohol, or the adrenaline, or the fact that Katara is single for the first time since he'd properly gotten to know her, but all of the sudden nearly eleven years of unspoken feelings are pouring out of him.
"I've always admired you," he starts. He's kicked off his shoes and is pacing frantically around his kitchen, as he fumbles around for a glass of water. God, is he sweaty. "Even when you were my enemy—I always saw your strength, your talent. And I knew Aang did too. I knew he loved you for it."
He shakily knocks back the glass of water. God, why is he shaking so much? "And…and I don't expect you to tell me you feel exactly the same way, since I know you just got out of a really long relationship, but I just—I just need you to know, I've always been into you."
He scans her expression as his words hang in the air. Her face is flushed, and he can't tell if it's from the liquor, them dancing, or his confession. She's drenched in sweat, her slip suddenly sheer under the stark bright lights in his hotel. Even in his drunken haze, he manages to resist scanning her body.
"Zuko," she starts, slowly. She takes a step forward.
"You kicked my ass, you know. When we were at the North Pole, during the lunar eclipse. " He swallows a lump in his throat. "And you were fucking beautiful while you did it, too. I knew then and there…" he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair out of her face, "…that I was in trouble. Because it was always going to be you."
She reaches up, grasping her hand around his. Hers trembles, as she brings herself another step closer. "Zuko," she whispers.
He can't quite make out her expression. "You don't have to say anything," he says.
He opens his mouth to continue, only to find her lips pressed up against his. She tastes of champagne and the strawberries they had for dessert as she moves her mouth against his, and moves her hand from his jaw to the back of his neck. He falls into her, feeling her body pressed up against his. It jolts him back to reality.
"Katara," he starts, all but pushing her away from him. "We shouldn't."
"Stop. Just stop." She wipes her mouth. He recognizes the look in her eyes—it was the same one she'd given him the day he joined Team Avatar. The day she threatened his life.
Katara may be a waterbender. But she had plenty of fire in her.
"My turn," she says. She grasps his hands in hers. "You're not the only that feels these things. And you don't get to lay some big, overdue confession on me, and then shut me out when I show you that I feel the same way." She moves his hands to the small of her back, and then slowly lowers them, so they're sitting right on the top of her ass.
"So I want you to listen to me, very carefully," she says, holding his chin so it's all but a couple of inches away from hers. "Here's what we're going to do." She plants a kiss on his lips, wrestling her tongue against his for a moment before pulling away. "You're going to have your hands on me for the rest of the night. You're going to pick me up, throw me onto that bed—" she pointed to her left, "—and you're going to show me exactly what I've been missing for the last ten years. Got it?"
He nods slowly, his heart racing. He can't help but smirk as he says, "I'll have you know—as Firelord, I'm not used to being spoken to like this."
She reaches a hand down, slipping it under his robes until it's up against his groin. He'd been hard since the moment she pressed her lips against his. "Seems like you like it," she muses, teasing the tip of his member with her fingers.
He moans into her neck, and before he can think better of it, throws her over his shoulder. He practically throws himself on top of her as he climbs into bed, hungrily kissing her neck, her chest, her stomach, everywhere. She grabs his hair by the fistful, bucking her hips against his as his lips travel back up to hers. Every time she grinds up against him, it's like another wave of electricity courses through his body.
It's only as he slides himself inside of her, and she digs her nails into his back, that he realizes why she was always the one he would go to, when he needed guidance. She gave him advice the same way she fucked him, and the same way she fought him—she was never anything less than his equal.
It didn't matter that there wasn't a drop of royal blood coursing through her veins, that she was a water nomad from the south pole trying to navigate her way through meetings and conflicts with the most powerful leaders in the world. She had just as much strength as he did, and more conviction than he could ever dream of. She could be stubborn, yeah, and a massive pain in his ass—but she stood up for what she believed in. And he was a better man, and a better ruler, for it.
It's on his mind as they lay in bed afterwards, both of them breathing heavily, the sheets soaked with sweat. "For the record," he starts, his voice raspy, "I do like it."
"Like what?"
"I like it when you tell me what to do," he says. He can't help but crack a smile. "It's why I always ask you for advice. It's nice, having someone that isn't afraid to call you on your bullshit. I like that you see me for more than just my title."
She lets out a long sigh, and nuzzles her head against his chest. "Zuko," she says, lacing her fingers into his, "I know you're a big-time Firelord now—but you'll always be that kid I met in Ba Sing Se."
He pauses before asking. "Ba Sing Se, huh?"
She nods. "That's when I knew."
"Knew what, exactly?"
She cracks the ghost of a smile. "That I was in trouble."
"…I feel music in your eyes
I have never reached such heights."
~ Loud Places, Jamie xx