Author's note: Written for Kataang Smut Weekend 2021. Prompt: Caught in the Act. Enjoy :)
Curtains
Sokka considered himself a cosmopolitan sort of man.
He effortlessly dressed in the latest Earth Kingdom fashion for swanky state parties. Ordered food in Fire Nation eateries with practiced ease. Struck up conversations about Air Nomad culture with university professors as though he'd studied the field himself.
When he heard the crash, he was in the middle of discussing the guest list with the manager of the Fire Nation Royal Theater. He ran to the theater gallery to see what had caused the racket, in case anyone was hurt. But what he saw drew him up short.
With surprises—shocking, stomach-turning surprises in particular—Sokka always fell back on his roots, as though embracing the familiar would soothe his violated spirit. In this specific instance, it was his Water Tribe roots.
"What in the name of Tui's left fin—"
A long metal rod lay twisted across the grand stage, which was situated at the far end of the gallery beyond the countless rows of seats. It was the curtain track. The metal track should have been suspended high up near the ceiling, supporting the stage curtains that were so critical to properly showing a play. Yet said curtains lay in a tangled heap upon the stage, with a long tear running through the heavy velvet.
But the damaged property was not what caught Sokka's eye. His attention was immediately drawn to one thing and one thing only—his sister and the Avatar, wrapped around each other in a passionate embrace. On the stage, front and center.
Aang lay between Katara's legs, which had clenched around him in ecstasy. Their arms were entwined around each other's bare torsos—though thankfully, Katara had somehow managed to keep her chest binding on. Her thighs and the folds of her skirt hid Aang's hips from view, but the pants bunched around his knees and the nakedness of her legs—not to mention their flushed faces—told Sokka more than he wanted to know.
Sokka gaped at them, mouth hanging open, like a freshly caught penguin-fish gasping for air. The two lovers exchanged a look, then locked their horrified eyes with his.
Earlier...
"Remind me why we're doing this again?"
A wave of dizziness hit Katara as she made the mistake of looking down over the edge of the platform. She clutched at the rope in her hand to steady herself, but instead of providing her an anchor, it swayed treacherously from side to side.
It wasn't that Katara was afraid of heights. Not really. Well, maybe a little. Traveling with Aang had mostly cured her of that particular anxiety, and becoming a practiced waterbender had removed it entirely, since she had water and ice at her command to use as a safety net.
But right now, all she had was the clothes on her back. She and Aang, along the rest of their friends, had gathered in the Fire Nation to join Zuko in honoring Lady Ursa on her birthday. Even though the post-war years had had their moments of strife, they were by and large marked by peace and celebration. So when Aang asked Katara to help him rehearse part of the performance for tomorrow's festivities, she'd seen no need for her bending skills and had left her bending water behind.
That turned out to be a mistake. Because she hadn't counted on her fear of heights to come rushing back like this. And the only place drier than the Fire Nation Royal Theater was the Si Wong Desert.
"You'll be fine!" Aang called over to her. He stood on his platform on the opposite side of the stage, one hand holding the rope tied around his waist, the other cocked on his hip.
"Easy for you to say," she muttered under her breath. Heights never seemed to bother Aang—he was an airbender, after all. Katara, on the other hand, was a Water Tribe girl who liked having solid ice beneath her feet.
"You've ridden on Appa a million times, and we go gliding together all the time. This is nothing compared to what you've already done."
He had a good point. Fear of heights notwithstanding, it wasn't as if she had never flown or been high up before. But Aang had been with her those times. And right now, he was clear on the other side of stage—unreachable.
"I know," Katara said. "But this is different. Sokka explained it to me once. Something about seeing how I'm connected to the ground makes me feel the height. I don't get that when I'm in the air."
"If you don't look down, maybe that will help."
"You don't need to tell me that twice."
Katara tried to steady herself by focusing on her boyfriend. How he could be so confident and unflappable, while perched three stories high on a thin wooden board atop flimsy bamboo rods, was beyond her. Not only that, the only thing tethering him to safety was an even flimsier rope—little more than a string, really—that circled his waist and attached to a wooden beam on the ceiling. Her setup was exactly the same as his, with the only difference—aside from her lack of confidence—being that hers was located on the other end of the stage.
Focusing on Aang wasn't hard to do, though. The regal red and black costume of the Dragon Emperor gave him a certain flair that she found heart-stoppingly dashing. Aang had always looked good in Fire Nation colors, and this was true now more than ever.
"Are you ready?"
Her breathing came shorter and faster at the idea of stepping off the ledge. Around her waist was a rope identical to Aang's, but she didn't have the same faith he did in its ability to keep her from plunging to an untimely demise.
"I...I don't know," she said breathlessly.
"You can't think about it too much. You just have to do it."
Her knees wobbled. Or did the wobble come from the spindly bamboo struts? There wouldn't be much to think about if the entire cursed apparatus collapsed from under her.
"I swear I'm going to kill Zuko for roping you into this."
Aang didn't say anything in reply, but his shoulders started to shake. What was wrong with him?
Then she realized he was laughing.
"I'd say he roped us both into this," he said, chortling, and tugged at his safety line. "Get it? Rope? He roped us into this."
Katara's eyes stung with tears. Her anxiety about performing a death-defying stunt had left her feeling vulnerable, and his mirth at their situation only made it worse. Couldn't he tell how nervous she was?
But he must have seen the way she cast her gaze to the side, the way her lips quivered, because the laughing stopped abruptly.
"I'm sorry, sweetie. I wasn't laughing at you," he said, his face softening at her distress. "I was trying to make you feel better, but I should've known that laughing wasn't going to help. I know this isn't easy for you."
The genuine warmth in his voice was a balm to her raw feelings. She blinked away the tears and breathed in and out, slow and even. When she was calm again, she managed to crack a smile. "That was a terrible joke, Aang. You've been spending way too much time around Sokka."
"I'm sorry, Katara," Aang said again. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to."
But Katara shook her head. "No, I can't back out now. I'm not going to be the reason for ruining Lady Ursa's birthday."
"But you won't be ruining anything! I'm sure I can figure out how to airbend the actors in the flying scene without doing a trial run. I don't want you to do this if you're not comfortable with it."
Katara shook her head again. "It's okay, Aang. This is the first birthday that Lady Ursa is celebrating with Zuko ever since they reunited. He obviously wants it to be special, or he wouldn't have asked you to help with Love Amongst the Dragons. She deserves an amazing performance. They both do."
But Aang only watched her across the chasm that separated them, his eyes filled with concern.
"I'll be fine," she said, answering his unspoken question.
"Okay. But if you get uncomfortable or scared, just tell me, and I'll bring us back down to the ground."
Katara only nodded, afraid that she would find an excuse to back out if she opened her mouth. The thought of swinging in the air suspended from a fishing line made her stomach start to churn again.
"All right, I'm ready," she said, before she could change her mind.
But instead of answering, Aang let go of his rope and hitched up his pants.
"What are you doing?" she said, more sharply than she'd intended. Any more delays and she would lose her nerve entirely.
He twisted around to the side and appeared to tie something at his waist. "These pants are too big. They're falling down." He gave the unseen tie a final tug and straightened up. "There, that should do it."
"Okay." She took a deep breath. "I'm ready when you're ready." Even though she wasn't.
But Aang saw through her bravado. He gripped his rope in one hand and held out the other. "When you step off, don't look down. Keep your eyes on me. When we get close, take my hand."
Take my hand…
Katara had heard those same words before, in the flickering firelight of a dim cave, surrounded by jostling bodies and stamping feet. The beat of the music thrummed in her chest, but it could not drown out the pounding of her heart as Aang approached her, cheeks still flushed from dancing with the Fire Nation girls. When he extended his wordless invitation, she'd stammered and made excuses. Aang wanted to dance. With her. Aang, whose natural grace made her feel like a lumbering arctic hippo. Aang, whose frank gaze made her heart soar so high that when she eventually came down, she was bound to crash. And crash she would, because he would soon discover that she stumbled like a buffalo calf when she should have been stepping in rhythm with him. Disappointing Aang, embarrassing herself in front of him, would have crushed her spirit for reasons she wasn't able to explain.
But when he said those words—take my hand—all she could see was him. She saw, in his eyes, that all he wanted was her. So when she took his hand, she was still soaring—but anchored now, to the boy she loved.
That was years ago, but as she stood on the edge of the rickety platform, those three words anchored her to Aang just as they had back then. Her anxiety quieted to a hush. It didn't matter if she stumbled or leaped gracefully into the air, or if the rope was too weak to hold her weight. Because no matter what happened, Aang would be there to catch her.
Katara kicked at the filmy skirt of her costume, nudging the folds of the powder blue fabric away from her feet. The actress playing the Dragon Empress was taller than Katara, judging from the way the hem pooled around her shoes. Even if Aang wasn't going to let her fall, it wouldn't do to begin their stunt by tripping over her dress.
"Okay. I'm ready now," she said with more confidence than before.
"All right, then. On the count of three. Two. One. Go!"
She kicked off from the edge of her platform at the same time he did. Forward she leaped, past the edge of the curtains that concealed the platforms from the audience, and down she fell.
Aang flung his arms wide, and Katara belatedly remembered to do the same. Bringing their arms out unfurled panels of cloth sewn along the lengths of their sleeves and down the sides of their costumes, giving them wings of red and blue. As she and Aang swung toward each other, a gentle wind filled the blue sails of her costume and floated her away from him.
At this point, Katara didn't fall so much as slowly drift downward, but her heart still lurched when her rope went taut. She kept her eyes trained on Aang, and he held her gaze as if nothing else in the world existed but her. His airbending blew them in circles around each other, the wide cuffs of their sleeves billowing behind them in the wind. Occasionally he sent them both across the middle of their invisible circle, and he would grin at her as he passed by, close enough to touch. She followed his lead as he arced his arms over his head and swept them to the side. They swirled around each other, weaving back and forth, their bodies flowing to a rhythm only they could feel.
Airbending transformed the dream sequence they acted out into an aerial dance between the Dragon Emperor and the Dragon Empress, something no one alive had ever seen before. But this was no more than a passing thought, because Katara was mesmerized by the way Aang glided through the air, as if he were truly flying, gravity powerless to bind him to the earth.
When Katara was a young child, she once saw a pair of eagles diving and circling around each other, dark silhouettes with flashes of white. Why are they flying like that? she had asked. Her mother explained they were snow eagles dancing a mating ritual that bound them together for life. Snow eagles are so rare that most people believe they only exist in legends. But if you are lucky enough to see one, they are a sign of good things to come, her mother had said. Two are even better than one. But her mother's words were soon swallowed up in the storm of fire and blood that consumed their village. Katara never saw the snow eagles again, and their promise of good fortune died with her mother.
But now, as she soared through the air with Aang, she remembered. Even though Aang had blue arrows instead of white-tipped wings, he was the snow eagle from her childhood. Until she broke him out of the iceberg, he had lived only in stories—the airbender and the Avatar who people believed no longer existed. But she had discovered him, freed him, and helped him spread his wings. Aang, in turn, had reminded her how to laugh, how to live again. He had taught her how to fly.
She and Aang circled around each other, and he brought them to the middle once again. When he held out his hand, Katara knew they were nearing the end of the dream sequence. She reached out for Aang as they drew closer. His firm grip pulled her against him, his other arm closing around her waist.
Katara held on tight. The snow eagles had soared into her life for the briefest of moments before disappearing. Aang almost had, too. As she gazed into his gray eyes, she saw those same eyes struggling to open—on an iceberg, on a sky bison's back—when they should have remained closed forever.
"What are you thinking about?" Aang said. Her pensive mood hadn't escaped his notice.
About how I never take you for granted.
But all she said was, "You."
Katara kissed him. She kissed him the way she had on that evening years ago, in the golden sunset of a war-torn city. Fervently, deeply, finally allowing herself to open up to him with all the passion and longing she'd been holding inside. This time, though, her passion was driven by the need to know, with her mouth and her hands, that he was still there. To savor the moment, because she knew how easily he could be stolen away. She kissed him as they hovered in mid-air, suspended by invisible strings, a pair of snow eagles locked in an embrace that bound them to each other.
A soft breath escaped from Aang when they parted. His half-lidded eyes reflected the longing that burned in her chest. A breeze swept the hair away from her face as he guided them through the air to the platform behind him. When their feet touched down on the wooden planks, he gathered her in.
Then his lips were upon hers in an all-consuming heat that fanned the burning inside her into a blazing fire. She sighed as his mouth moved down her jaw and her neck, his lips leaving a searing afterimage on her skin. One of his hands slid up her neck and gently fisted her hair. The other hand worked at the buttons of the high-necked collar of her costume, and when it fell open he trailed kisses along her collarbone.
But as Aang's tongue delved the hollow of her throat, Katara, through the haze of desire, began to grow vaguely aware of where things were heading.
"Aang," she tried to say. But her protest came out as a breathy gasp that only served to encourage him. He slipped his hand inside the overlapping fabric that formed the front of her dress. The feel of his hand sliding across her belly and up the side of her chest, with only a gauzy layer of silk between him and her skin, made her shudder.
Her legs started to buckle under her—or did the platform wobble?—so she cupped the back of his head to steady herself. After regaining her balance, though, she still clasped him to her chest. They had talked about things, before. How far to go. How far not to go. He was moving down her chest, now. Slowly, carefully, as he entered new territory.
We've talked…
His breath on her skin, on her breast—just above the wrap binding her chest—made her tingle with gooseflesh.
about…
"Aang," she said again, audible this time, but his name came out as a whimper as his lips grazed the soft slope of her breast.
things…
He opened his mouth. The warm dampness of his tongue on such a private, sensitive area made Katara gasp. The way the burning coil in her middle tightened, the way she craved more than just his kisses upon her chest made it clear as water that they were treading on forbidden ground.
"Aang," she said, firmly this time, and pushed him back.
He loosened his arms from around her, but she still clung to his shoulders, not trusting her legs or the swaying platform to hold her up. His hands drifted downward and came to rest on her waist.
"I'm sorry," Aang said, head bowed, his breath coming in heavy gasps. "I guess I got carried away."
Katara curled her arms around his neck and brought their foreheads together. "It's okay," she said, her own breath coming in short pants. "But we've talked about this before. About not going there. Not yet."
He made a small sound of remorse. "I'm so sorry, Katara. I don't want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable."
She touched her fingers to his cheek. "You didn't make me uncomfortable, sweetie. I…I liked it. A lot." Her skin still tingled with the memory of his lips on her breast. "A little too much, actually."
Her admission made him groan in frustration. "I know we talked about not moving too fast. About taking it slow."
She nodded. "We're still young. We have so many years ahead of us."
"I know." He sighed. "It's just that…"
"Just what?" she said, a little too eagerly, as she anticipated his answer.
"I love you so much." He drew her closer, his hands moving up her back with barely restrained urgency. "I want you so much," he said in a low whisper.
Katara's heart quickened as she wrestled with the need to hold back, like they'd talked about in more clear-headed moments, while aching to feel his hands and mouth in the secret places of her body.
She brought her hands around to frame his face. The adoration dusting his cheeks, the open desire in his eyes left her defenseless and struggling to remember exactly why they needed to take it slow.
Take it slow, she told herself.
Then, somehow, her nose was nudging his.
A chaste nuzzle. Nothing more.
Not too fast…
"I love you, Aang," she murmured, shivering as his warm breath feathered across her lips.
The next thing she knew, Aang was kissing her—or was she kissing him?—and Too fast was her last coherent thought as her need for him swept her away in its undertow.
The bulky tunic of the Dragon Emperor's costume was in the way. Katara favored Aang's saffron and gold robes that draped over one shoulder, since they gave her a convenient excuse to touch his bare arms and chest whenever the opportunity arose—which was frequently. Sometimes, too, her hand would drop under the folds of his robes when no one was looking. Even more importantly, the shoulder drape slipped down quite nicely when she wanted to feel his skin against hers, like she did now.
Her hands went to the gold-trimmed sash at his waist and fumbled with the metal clasp. Aang inserted his hands and helped her unclip the buckle, and the sash fell away with a clatter. He pulled his arms out of the wide armholes of the tunic and shrugged it over his head, leaving him in a flowing shirt and trousers of sand-colored linen. Soon the shirt joined the tunic on the wooden planks.
Katara ran her hands hungrily over Aang's exposed chest. She nuzzled his ear, taking his earlobe between her tongue and teeth. His breath hissed inward as she shifted her attention to suck on the soft, sensitive spot below his ear. With renewed urgency, he slipped his hands inside her gaping collar and stripped down the top of her dress in one smooth motion. She yanked her arms the rest of the way out of the sleeves and pulled his head down and planted her lips on his.
Her skin burned in the all the places where she was pressed against Aang's naked torso. His hand on her back burrowed under her chest binding and slowly slid around to the side. Then he halted, holding the side of her chest.
Katara knew she shouldn't. They were moving too fast. But she didn't care. She wanted to feel him.
She grabbed his wrist and guided his hand under the binding to cup her breast. The shock of his hand clutching her bare breast made her moan into his mouth. He groaned and tightened his arm around her waist, pulling her hips hard against his.
Aang broke off their kiss and buried his face in her hair, hunching over her, panting. "Katara," he said, his lips brushing her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "You don't know what you do to me."
"Actually, I think I do," she said, and arched her hips against him, into his arousal.
He groaned again and clutched at her buttocks with his other hand. "Katara," he said in a strangled tone.
Katara covered his hand, the one that grasped her breast underneath her chest binding. "Aang, I want to feel you…feel me."
He readily complied. His hand moved under her hand, slowly kneading her breast. She moaned as he stroked her nipple with his thumb. "Aang," she said, breathing his name like a plea. She felt how much he wanted her, his desire for her, pressed against her pelvis, against the ache between her legs. "I want you."
He pulled his hand out from under her binding. She whimpered, wanting more after receiving only the barest taste of his touch upon her breast. He hooked his thumbs into the waist of her dress, where the discarded bodice hung from her hips, and tugged down.
Whether it was her knees trembling from anticipation or the platform swaying beneath them, Katara would never know. At that moment, she lost her footing and stumbled into Aang. Her momentum, along with the unexpected movement, made him stagger backward.
She clung to him to keep from falling. He clamped both arms around her back. They held onto each other as they tried to regain their balance. Even after the world stopped swaying, he continued to hold her tightly.
Katara wriggled in his arms, trying to get loose. But he held her fast. His cheek was pressed against her hair, his chin hooked over her shoulder.
"Aang?" She couldn't see his face.
"You were right," he said finally. "We're moving too fast."
They stood on the platform, embracing each other, folded into each other. Pressed against Aang, she could feel his heart thumping away in a quick staccato that belied the stillness of his posture. It was then that she realized he held on to her not because he didn't want to let her go, but to keep himself from taking things too far.
The ache between her legs had lessened, but just barely. "But I want this, sweetie. I want this with you."
"I want this, too. I want you. I want you more than anything," Aang said over her shoulder, his voice hushed yet strained. "It's hard to hold back, sometimes."
Katara smiled. "Sometimes?"
He chuckled. "Okay…a lot of the time."
"But we need to take it slow," she said.
Aang relaxed and leaned back, his arms still looped around her shoulders. "So we can take our time…"
"…getting to know each other."
The words were their mantra, one that kept them from rushing headlong into exploring each other's bodies in ways they weren't ready for. Not yet. But it was a mantra that Katara didn't quite feel at the moment.
"What if…" She blushed at the boldness of what she was about to suggest. Never mind that only a few minutes ago, she was telling—and showing—Aang how much she wanted him. "What if I want us to go a little faster?"
His breath hitched, and he went completely still.
"How…how much faster?" he said when he started to breathe again.
"Hmmm." She tilted her head and drew a line down his bare chest with her finger. "Maybe I should show you."
Then her heart skipped a beat, but not from the thrill of anticipation. It was that blasted platform again, shifting like a bobbing iceberg beneath their feet. "But only after we get off this deathtrap they call a platform."
Then it occurred to Katara, rather belatedly, that they were standing on the stage of the Fire Nation Royal Theater, stripped mostly naked to the waist. Even though the heavy curtains hid the platforms from the gallery, someone was bound to walk in on them backstage sooner or later.
The same understanding seemed to dawn on Aang. "And somewhere a little more private," he said.
Katara pulled the bodice of her dress up and around her shoulders, but she struggled to thread her arms through the sleeves. Her movements made the platform sway even more, making an already awkward endeavor pretty much impossible. She threw down the tangled fabric in frustration and stalked toward the ladder that stretched down to the stage below. Better get to solid ground first, and then put her dress back on properly.
What she had forgotten in the heat of their passion, however, was the fact that she and Aang were still tethered to the ceiling by their safety lines. Also forgotten was the fact that her line was anchored closer to her platform, which meant she was going to run out of slack very soon as she walked to the ladder on the far side of Aang's platform.
The urgency to get off the platform coupled with the fear of being discovered made Katara hurry. Which meant that when her line went taut, she halted mid-step with a force that nearly yanked her off her feet. She caught herself in time and managed to remain upright, but she stumbled several steps to the side—and off the edge.
Katara yelled out in surprise as her foot flailed in thin air, and she toppled over the side of the platform. Wind rushed past her ears, and she shrieked as she plunged to the stage below.
"Katara!" Aang shoved off his tunic, which he'd donned only halfway, and dove after her.
After what seemed like forever, Katara fell to the end of her rope and jolted to a jaw-rattling stop more than one story above the stage. Aang flew into her shortly afterward and encased her in his arms. They clung to one another, ropes creaking as they swung back and forth like a human pendulum.
She expected Aang to airbend them to safety. But he didn't. As she felt the cool air passing over her bare back and shoulders, she realized why. The wing-like panels of their costumes were the sole reason why they had been able to fly and dance in the air with Aang's airbending. But his tunic lay in a heap on the platform high above them, and the panels of her own dress hung with the bodice at her waist, limp and useless.
"So…now what?" she wondered aloud, trying to ignore the growing sense of panic at being discovered as they hung above the stage, half-undressed.
They continued to sway back and forth as each of them reflected on their situation.
Then Aang said, "I'm going to airbend that curtain over here. I'll cut our ropes, and we'll grab onto the curtain and slide to the ground."
Katara nodded. It was a good plan. "Okay."
The maroon stage curtain zipped toward them with a metallic shing, sliding along the metal track as a gust of wind pushed the heavy fabric to the center of the stage. Still hanging onto Aang, Katara grabbed a fistful of the velvet curtain. Aang did the same, his arm still firmly wrapped around her waist. With a flick of his wrist, he severed his safety line with a razor-thin slice of air. Another flick, and Katara's line came free. The flimsy cords fell away and drifted lazily above the stage.
Katara grasped the flaw in their plan almost immediately. Without the rope to support her weight, she dropped downward, her fall halted only by the bunched-up curtain in her grip. She and Aang dangled from the curtain like a pair of fish on an angler's hook.
The ominous sound of tearing fabric made her head jerk up.
"I don't think the curtains were designed to hold our weight," she said, trying not to sound shrill.
Aang nodded. "Quick, we've got to slide down before the whole thing comes down on us."
But before Katara could even think about loosening her grip, they suddenly lurched downward. When they came to a stop, she breathed a sigh of gratitude. But relief turned into panic when she saw that they had not stopped, but were instead still falling, slowly this time, as the curtain track bowed and the nails bolting it to the ceiling began to pull loose.
"Uh oh," Aang said.
What happened next was a blur. The tearing sound became a full-on rip, and Katara hooked her legs around Aang as their descent picked up speed. Then the groan of metal and several pops and they were free falling. As Aang started to slip away from her, she pedaled her legs, trying to get a hold on him, but her feet kept sliding off his pants. The next thing she knew, his arms were around her and she was staring at the ceiling, with the metal track and waves of red velvet rushing toward her face.
She hunched her shoulders, expecting to slam against the stage at any moment. Then somehow Aang flipped them so he was underneath her. A swath of curtain curved below him in the air. The fabric billowed out at first, then caved in as they plowed into it, the curtain flapping like red banners on either side as they fell.
Even though Aang had airbent the curtain to slow their descent, it wasn't going to be enough. To soften the impact, he twisted them to the side just before they hit. They rolled together across the stage and came to rest near the front, just as the curtain track crashed into the polished floorboards in a sea of velvet.
When all was still, Aang lifted his head and studied her with worried eyes. "Are you okay?"
Katara didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Her elbows and knees smarted from their rolling landing, but she was relieved to have solid ground beneath her. As she took in the dangling mounts on the ceiling that had formerly supported the curtain track, as her eyes turned to the folds of velvet and the bent metal rod sprawled across the stage, she only had one thought. "Zuko is so going to kill us."
She was still disoriented enough that the sound of running footsteps failed to register any meaning until an all-too-familiar voice echoed in the gallery.
"What in the name of Tui's left fin-"
Her eyes went wide. Sokka!
She exchanged a stunned look with Aang. Here she was, lying on her back, topless, with her skirt hiked up and arms and legs wrapped around her boyfriend. Aang himself was bare-chested, and for the first time she saw that his pants were pushed down to the knees—probably the result of her flailing and trying to hang onto him as they fell.
Katara's cheeks were on fire. Aang's face flushed red. They slowly turned their heads to see Sokka standing in one of the wide doorways to the gallery, staring at them with a horrified expression.
Aang was the first to recover. "Th-This isn't what it looks like," he managed to stammer out.
Sokka closed his mouth and blinked several times. "So…what does it look like?"
Aang rubbed the back of his neck and started to get up. "You see, there was an accident, and—"
"Gah! Don't—Aang—for the love of—I don't wanna see—" Sokka spluttered, holding an arm over his eyes like a shield.
Aang settled back down into a crouch over Katara. "Oh. Sorry." Then, in a low voice, he said to her, "What do we do?"
"He thinks we were in the middle of…" She trailed off, unable to bring herself to finish the sentence. "Just tell him you're still wearing underwear!" she hissed.
"Sokka," Aang called out. "I'm still wearing underwear!"
"Why are we talking about underw—Roku's beard!"
Katara's stomach dropped with renewed horror at the sight of Zuko standing next to her brother.
She let her head fall back and stared at the ceiling. "Okay, we're officially dead."
"Zuko, I can explain—" Aang began.
"What—why—you—Katara—what happened to the curtains?"
"You walk in on that," Sokka said, gesturing wildly at the stage, "and all you can think about are the curtains?"
"We weren't doing anything!" Aang protested.
"I come by to check on how things are going and I find that you guys have destroyed the curtains! What are we going to do? The play can't go on without the curtains," Zuko went on, babbling over everyone else. "I need this to be perfect. We have to find a way to make this happen. My mother will be heartbroken if it doesn't. It has to happen!"
Sokka grabbed the Fire Lord by the shoulders and gave him a hard shake. "Zuko! We can fix the curtains. What we can't fix is the permanent damage to my eyes after seeing Aang doing my sister in plain sight!"
"I told you, Sokka, I wasn't doing—I mean, we weren't doing anything!"
Zuko slapped Sokka's hands away. "What about my eyes? You think this is how I want to remember my mother's birthday? That these two couldn't keep their pants on around each other, when I look back fondly on this time in my life? That the Avatar and your sister are hornier than a pair of rabbit-moles? That they didn't even have the decency to—"
Sokka closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay. You know what? Why don't we go back to talking about the curtains."
"I don't think you understand!" Zuko was shouting now, his voice rising to a frantic pitch. "From this day on, every time I think of my mother's birthday, this is what I'm going to see! There is nothing in this world or the spirit world that will help me unsee this!"
"Listen, Sparky, I'm blind and even I can't unsee this," said a new voice.
Katara covered her face with her hands. "Spirits help us. Don't tell me Toph is joining the party, too."
Aang smacked his forehead and groaned. "Toph, what are you doing here?"
"Hello to you too, Twinkle Toes. If you must know, I only stopped by because Sokka needed someone to earthbend some signs into the stone wall outside the theater, since you're clearly busy with Sugar Queen."
"We were just rehearsing the airbending sequence!"
Toph crossed her arms over her chest and smirked. "Looks like a lot more than just rehearsing to me."
Sokka, apparently, had had enough. "All right! Everyone!" he roared, throwing his arms above his head. "Everyone stop talking RIGHT NOW!"
"But Sokka, I can explain—"
"I don't wanna hear it, Aang."
"Sokka. You need to hear him out," Katara said. It was better for both of them if Aang was the one who did the explaining, since he was much more patient and better at diplomacy than she was. Especially when it came to her brother.
"You of all people shouldn't be talking, sis!"
Zuko angrily thrust a finger at the stage. "But what about the curtains?" he said, almost yelling again.
Before Sokka could respond, Toph rolled her eyes and said, "I'm on it, Sparky."
The petite earthbender slashed her hands to the side, then pulled her outstretched fingers upward. The curtain track straightened itself out with a metallic groan. Then it lifted off the floor, dragging the velvet curtains with it, and settled into the mounts on the ceiling. The process was punctuated by several thunks as nails flew back into the eyes of the mounts and bolted the curtain track back in place.
"All right. Thank you. Thank you, Toph," Sokka said, clapping his hands together. "Someone is doing something about this situation. Finally."
Zuko stared at the reinstated curtains. One of the two panels was halfway torn from the brackets connecting it to the track and drooped sadly over the stage. His gaze dropped to the sight of his friends on the stage, taking in their compromising position, before quickly glancing away. With slow and deliberate movements, he turned around and began to walk out of the gallery. "I'll be in my study in the palace if anyone needs me." He paused, as if reconsidering. "Actually, I'm pretty sure none of you will need me. So I won't be seeing any of you until tomorrow. Or whenever." Then his pace quickened and he practically ran out of the theater.
Toph wiped her hands together as if dusting them off. "Looks like my work here is done. All right, Snoozles, I'll be outside whenever you're ready to show me the walls that need earthbending."
Then Toph was gone, leaving Katara and Aang alone with Sokka.
Before Sokka could say anything, Aang wrapped his arms around Katara's shoulders and waist. With a boost from airbending, he lifted them both off the floor and onto their feet. Katara stood with her back to Sokka, giving Aang cover from her brother's suspicious eye.
"Just so you know," she said over her shoulder, as she jammed one arm through the sleeve of her dress, "nothing happened."
Katara pulled the opposite sleeve over her other arm, and Aang hitched up his pants and tied the belt at his waist. She fought against the heat threatening to rise to her cheeks as they put their clothes back on in front of Sokka, the silence between them awkward and thick.
After she finished buttoning up her collar, she turned around to face her brother. Chin high, nose in the air, daring him to speak. In control. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"I know you're dying to say something," she snapped. "Just spit it out."
Sokka's eyes flicked between her and Aang, who wisely remained standing behind her, then above their heads to stare at the torn stage curtain.
For a few terrible moments, Katara thought he was getting ready to chew them out. She and Aang had been together for several years now, and Sokka was no fool. Her brother undoubtedly had no illusions about what went on between them behind closed doors. But suspecting was very different from seeing.
Katara didn't need Sokka's approval, but she didn't want any conflict between him and Aang if she could help it. That meant she had to nip the problem in the bud when she still had the chance. "Look, Sokka—"
Her brother held up a hand. "Katara. Your business is none of my business. But please…get a room next time. To spare the rest of us."
He hooked his thumbs in his belt and started to walk away. "And fix those curtains before you leave," he said, without turning around. "We're putting on a show tomorrow."
After Sokka was out of sight, Katara circled her arms around Aang's back. "I guess we're not gonna figure out how fast we're going anytime today," she said, and she attempted to console herself by snuggling into his neck.
Aang rubbed her shoulder in a rhythm that was both affectionate and comforting. He sighed. "No, I guess not."
Then the hand rubbing her shoulder went still.
Katara lifted her head and frowned. "Sweetie? What's up?"
"You know what?" he said, his gray eyes lighting up with mischief. "Sokka never mentioned how long we should take in fixing that curtain."
Katara's mouth curved into a slow smile as she caught his meaning. "And curtains provide a lot of cover."