For Zutaraang Week - Day 6 - Dancing
"You, look, uh," is the first thing Zuko says to her when they meet each other on the floor, his arms dangling at his sides like he's forgotten how to greet a friend. Katara feels a smile pull at her lips before he has even finished the words.
For the record, friend is definitely not the right word anymore. She'll have to give that some thought. There's something frivolous about boyfriend, when one also has a husband.
Tonight is all deja vu, beginning with the presence of the Fire Lord. The decor, the music, and the food of this event are all stunningly reminiscent of Daoshu Province. With the disaster's three month anniversary looming, both of them are guests of honour at this fundraising event organised by the Southeastern Earth Kingdom migrants.
A lot is familiar, but nothing shocks her back to those few months of the summer – the terror, the toil, the ultimate gift – than the startlingly smitten expression on Zuko's face (she lets her heart skip that beat, maybe even relishes it.)
It's been a few weeks since she saw him, and longer still since she has been with him in private, and the stark difference between his dignified presence at a city hall fundraiser and his presence at, well, her honeymoon is enough to make Katara blush upon sight.
Katara bends in a playful curtsey. There were a few speeches and a rousing folk theatre performance earlier, but the night is winding down now. A local group whose name Katara can't quite recall is regaling the room with a pleasant melody over the chatter, classical Earth Kingdom strings fused with a livelier beat, a more recent Republic City invention. They were planning to meet tonight regardless, but Katara is thrilled that her attempts to catch his eye across the large, crowded room were successful.
"And you, Your Highness. Eloquent as ever." She rises with a smirk.
She can see Zuko struggle with the effort to resist rolling his eyes in a highly public place. She gives another half a second's attempt at keeping up the pleasantries before throwing herself into his arms. Zuko returns the hug, both of them holding on long enough that it would probably send some downtown reporter into a frenzy.
"I missed you," she says into his shoulder, taking a long breath in. "There's so much I have to tell you."
"Me too," he says, stepping back with a conspicuous cough and a smile. The words themselves are gratifying in Katara's ears. Nothing reinvigorates her like a good catch up session with Zuko; it's been a busy week, but she can already feel the anticipation building in her chest, of renewing her strength with his presence.
"How's Aang?" Zuko asks. "And Sokka, and Toph?"
Katara takes each question in turn. "Still in the South, both of them. A lot of Avatar duties to keep busy with when the Northern and Southern tribes have their biannual reviews," she says with a deprecating laugh that she knows Zuko will understand. She herself has been spared any diplomatic duties in the gathering of the sister tribes, due to the sheer workload of codifying the new healing practices. She has to catch Zuko up on those – particularly the pilot training courses in medical bloodbending.
Though that particular topic between them might be better reserved for a more private setting. Her face flushes with the thought. It tends to stray pretty quickly from healthcare provision. "I could swear I saw Toph earlier tonight, though I think all the flouncy Earth Kingdom costumes in the play might have scared her away."
Zuko laughs. "I can't say I blame her." Katara scans her eyes around the room for her anyway. She can't spot Toph amongst the few remaining guests, but she notices that most who aren't sitting down are swaying on their feet. The band really is good, and they've read the room well enough to switch to a calmer tune. A serene erhu melody wafts across the hall, the sound undulating past her ears in a way that makes it hard to stay still.
"She told me that you're here until next week?" Katara says, unable to keep the elation from her voice. "Does that mean things are settling down at home?"
"More or less," Zuko says, a middling grimace that tells her that there's more to elaborate on later. "Stable enough that Uncle returned to Ba Sing Se."
Katara hums her acknowledgement. "Well, you definitely look good," – she corrects herself at Zuko's mildy scandalised expression – "I mean, you look like things aren't too stressful in the Fire Nation."
"Right," Zuko says, an endearing look of suspicion crossing his face. "Well, I still have to plan–"
"Tell you what," Katara interrupts him, leaning up to speak into his ear. Under the daze of that mellifluous soundtrack in her ears and Zuko in front of her eyes, an irresistible thought has occurred to her. "Save the conversation for later. You still owe me a dance from the last ceremony."
"I–" Zuko says. "You know I don't really–"
"I seem to recall you did with Aang," Katara cuts in.
"Not of my own will."
"Come on."
Zuko looks like he wants to stomp his foot. "Are you keeping some bizarre score about who can embarrass me the most?" He eyes her with caution, like he thinks the two of them wouldn't be above such games. "And I really wouldn't call that dancing."
Katara pauses, recalling the brief minutes of drunken bobbing she had witnessed during the final ceremony in Daoshu. "No, me neither." She finds that her memory is hazy enough that she can't remember whether she even tried to get Zuko to dance that night. In her defense, she had had bigger things on her mind.
Zuko coughs and tries to extract himself out of their loose embrace, making another valiant attempt to dissuade her, even though they're both swaying on the spot by now. "And anyway, messing around with Aang is one thing. You're– you're such a natural at dancing. I'd look like an idiot in comparison."
Katara cocks an eyebrow at him. "And remind me which one of us was raised in a royal court?"
Zuko grunts, unamused.
Katara continues, "I don't even know how you've managed to avoid dancing all these years, with all the events you must have to go to."
"I'm the Fire Lord. I can make it law that no one's allowed to make me dance."
Katara glances once around the floor before taking a step in, her hands cupped around his neck. She says into his ear, her voice lowered to the volume of a whisper, "Not in this country you can't."
Zuko takes a sharp breath in. It sort of makes Katara forget to breathe herself.
"I'll teach you," she says. "A basic one," she nods her head towards the band playing to the side of the stage, "anything a little on the softer side would go with these steps."
She expects a long suffering sigh – which, she does get, immediately. But after a moment Zuko mutters under his breath, "Okay."
"Great," Katara says triumphantly, lifting her hand to rest it on his shoulder. "Alright, put one arm around me." Zuko simply presses closer the hand already hovering around her back.
He's warm, much warmer than the autumn breeze. "Higher," Katara says with only a little hiccup. She raises her other hand and grasps his in mid air so they're in a starting position. "Good. Now step forward when I step back, and come back into position again."
Zuko does, so quick that she almost sidesteps to get out of his way. Then he attempts it again, with a frown of concentration so severe that she struggles not to burst out laughing.
"You need to slow down," Katara starts to say, and with a trace of guilt, she is laughing. The look of disgruntlement on his face is enough to make her immediately touch his cheek in apology.
Eventually Zuko gets it, and they move back and forth, all of Katara's focus on keeping him at the right pace. The simplicity of the movement, the repetition, lulls her into an easy trance of simply enjoying his presence, until she finds herself circling ever closer, close enough to rest her head against his chest.
The tempo changes.
Katara stands up straight. "Let's try a twirl."
She guides Zuko through the motions, slowed down, narrating them as she does. Zuko is silent, content to learn, and it sends a wave of pleasure up her spine to have his attention so thoroughly, with nothing but her words and actions.
"Remember," she says, after a few attempts, "make it fluid." She turns, pivoting on the grip of his hand seamlessly to demonstrate the movement again. Zuko is still stiff as a board, but there's a precision to his movements now. "It's like sparring." She twirls again, feeling him loosen minutely to aid her.
They fall into step again, and Katara guides him to run through the entire process from the beginning. "Just follow the steps until its muscle memory." She looks Zuko evenly in the eyes before twirling, "And be aware of your partner." The breeze catches her skirt when she spins out, and Zuko catches her firmly in the bend of his arm when she spins back in. Chill and heat. Katara returns to form a little breathlessly.
"It's like waterbending," Zuko amends, with a small smile. "Of course you're so good at it." The words are almost a whisper. For the first time, Katara feels self-conscious under his gaze. She clears her throat, looking up into his eyes instinctively to help her gain ground.
"And I mean both of you," Zuko says, matching her gaze.
Katara has misstepped, in more ways that one – she finds she can only hold his gaze for a moment longer before she averts her eyes, slipping her hands down from his shoulders and loosely behind his back. They're close enough that she feels him swallow, and she tentatively lets him take her weight, like she had wanted to ten minutes ago. One peek behind his shoulder tells her they're not doing worse than the other pair on the floor right now.
"I watched you," Zuko says, somewhere near her temple. "Back in Daoshu. At-at the wedding." He gives a nervous bark of laughter, "A lot of times, actually. I love watching you guys dance."
Katara's stomach tightens at the plain admission. It's so unlike him, and the waver in his voice lets her know that he's aware of it, too. "And what's your verdict?" she says into his collar.
"Mesmerising," Zuko offers. "It's just–" but he's interrupted by a flash of light in the corner of the room. Katara and Zuko turn their heads towards the distraction in unison.
The presses should have left an hour ago. When Katara furrows her brow and looks up to gauge Zuko's reaction, he's already looking down at her. It's clear from his stunted expression: neither of them know how to react.
Katara cranes her neck to see if she can spot where one of the nosy rats from the Harmony Herald or whatever might be sitting, but decides within moments that it's not worth the effort, and leans her head back onto his collar. Finally, she says, curling her arms closer around him for emphasis,"I think… I think this might be more than they can handle."
"Don't worry about them," Zuko says.
"Really?" Katara's surprised. He's always been irritable about what the rags report - and with very good reason, it had to be admitted. There's a laidback attitude that she and Aang could always afford to have about the press, safe in their relationship. With hindsight, some of those accusations over the years must have been nerve-wracking for Zuko.
"What's the worst rumour they can spread?"
Katara smiles into his shoulder, considering this. He's right. What could they say, that would actually matter anymore? She doesn't hold back the mirth in her voice, mock-whispering, "They might publish that picture, and then the Avatar will find out."
"He'll come after me," Zuko says in a serious deadpan.
"Wouldn't that be a nice change of pace," Katara remarks.
Zuko's laughter rumbles against her ear, a worthwhile reward. Katara closes her eyes and focuses on the music again.
Aang squints at the paper stall. If you asked him, he would tell you that the front page of the Southern Enquirer today is distasteful. Well, more so than usual. At least that giant photograph of Katara and Zuko is taking attention away from the dubious text. The vendor leaning against the stall looks bored, and he probably couldn't care less what he's selling. Oh, well. He'll complain about it the minute he sees Hakoda, see if the Chief can scare some sense into the publishers.
For now, he's happy to fall for the distraction.
...
"Hi!" The vendor startles and stands upright. "Can I get a copy?" Aang gestures towards the paper.
"Sure you–" the kid stops in his tracks, his hand on the top of the stack. He looks at Aang, then back to the cover, and then back to Aang again, his eyes widening like saucers with each turn. Aang exchanges his coins for the paper, an even smile on his face throughout. "Here you go," the kid squeaks.
DANCING ON THIN ICE?
REPUBLIC CITY – After their summer together in the wake of the Southern Earth Kingdom's terrible earthquake, it looks like things are shaking up again for this star-crossed pair. With the Avatar all the way here in...