A/N: I'm not gonna lie… I've been a lazy bum all summer. Some points of possible interest:
1. "Finders Keepers" is on hiatus. Possibly forever.
2. Question: Where the hell is my canon Zutara?
3. This fic is dedicated to my amazing friends (renuki, sporkyadrasteia, melodiee, kawaiilyn) who have been darling enough not to complain about their lack of birthday/graduation presents from me. Each chapter will be specifically dedicated to one of you.
4. My reviewers and readers are le shit. I love you. If I could have secret love affairs with each and every one of you, then I would. Seriously.
5. Renuki… this one's for you.
He never looked like he was listening. He usually fiddled with something or flirted with the campfire or stared at his boots.
She usually resorted to inane methods of getting his attention. A bug in his soup, a wayward pebble that somehow found a route to his head, etc.
This time, she kicked him.
It was subtle (of course), but he seemed rather ruffled at the notion.
"What do you want?" He pursed his lips.
"I know you said you've never done it and that you think it's silly and what's the point but just this time! Please? I promise I'll never ask you again."
What? "Why now?"
"Well, everyone's gone to town, and I figure it must be nice. With the ocean right there and everything."
"And if I go, you'll never badger me about this again?"
"Never."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He sighed and followed her to the edge of the clearing, where the olive-colored bracket scratched and licked the taller flora. From here, the rocks evolved into pebbles, which in turn smoothed into ivory sand.
Katara treaded to the water's edge and sat down. Slipping her sandals off, she buried her feet into the sand.
He ambled next to her and reached out to the pearly froth of the receding wave.
"Try it," she muttered complacently.
"Try what?"
"This." She lay down.
He glanced at her. Feet immersed in the sand, hair and face freckled by capricious sprays of water and sand, Katara didn't seem to be doing much. He didn't get it.
"Put your feet under the sand. It feels good."
He looked at her to see if she was joking, but she was much too serene to have ulterior motives. Gingerly (and cautiously), he took off his boots. There. Are you happy?
She didn't seem to be watching him.
Funny, though, that it did feel nice.
Certainly less overbearing than in armor, he seemed almost shy. It was silly and almost iniquitous to think just how far away the war seemed now. She wondered if maybe he had done this before, when she realized that she didn't quite know how to define what it was that they were doing. He's just a boy, watching a sunset with a girl. That's all.
Katara streamed a thin rivulet around her hand, her wrist a proper pivot.
"Zuko?"
No response. Well, here it comes: one of the thousands of questions she's been brooding over.
"Tell me a Fire Nation story. I've never heard one."
A sigh (of relief?). "I don't know any good ones."
"What about a ghost story?"
"I don't know any."
"A bedtime story?"
"I don't know any."
Silence.
"Katara?"
"Yeah?"
"I want a rematch."
"A… what?"
"A rematch."
"You mean… a bending rematch?"
A pause. "What other kind of rematches are there?"
Another pause. "No."
"Why not?"
"Why are you asking now?"
"We both need the practice, and we never settled that bit at the North Pole."
A pause. "And if I say yes, you'll never badger me about this again?"
"Never."
"Promise?"
"Promise."