Ten times Zuko was jealous and one time he realised it. Written for Zutaraang Week 2020 on tumblr, day 1, prompt 'jealousy.'
10.
Katara circled the room carefully, trying to get a good view of the painting, which was near impossible with the afternoon sunlight blaring from every angle of the glass-paned artists' workshop.
Finally, she gave up and grabbed it by its tautened edges, setting it flat on the ground. Zuko smirked, wondering what his forefathers might have made of such casual disrespect of royal portraiture.
"The hairline–"
"–is a little high, I know." And the scar's too faint, he didn't say.
She knelt over it, concentrating hard, running a careful thumb over the nose, the mouth, the chin. Zuko turned away.
9.
Aang's fingers laxed and rose rhythmically over the translucent strings of the lute. Katara nestled against his shoulder, her eyes low and entranced observing Aang's playing. The night crept on. Zuko thought of Mai and of the last time they spoke; curt, though not final. Yet he had struggled to drudge up the passion that he had so many times before.
Had she ever looked at him like that, the way Katara was looking at Aang?
The melody quieted and plinked away into silence. Zuko found his eyes closing, and found odd relief in the darkness from Katara's mesmerised expression.
8.
"That's amazing! Here in town? I should check out libraries more..."
Aang's eyes widened as his conversation partner, a rather obstinate Earth Kingdom councilman, eagerly shared evidence of his Air Nomad architectural knowledge. They'd been at this for a good five minutes.
Zuko wasn't sure who was charming who – what was certain was that they'd win him over by evening.
The more meetings ticked by, the more he wished he had half of Aang's easy charm. He couldn't be blamed for the scorching heat in his fists when the young man leant over to admire Aang's " rare , regional" kaftan.
7.
In the courtyard of the Jasmine Dragon, Aang and Katara had progressed from flirtily eyeing each other over their tea to a giggling embrace.
Zuko frowned. "Don't you ever wish they'd…?"
"–get a room?" Toph supplied.
"Yeah."
"Eh. They aren't much worse than Sokka and Suki – no matter what he says." She crossed her legs on the table. "Let kids have their fun."
"You sound like Uncle."
"Well I happen to love the old man, so that's a compliment."
Zuko made a point of not watching them after that. If it didn't quite stick, Toph wouldn't know any better.
6.
Zuko yawned, followed quickly by an exasperated sigh. Tell-tale reddish hair was strewn over his desk, his papers and quills scattered everywhere. Fire ferrets had gotten into the apartment again. The last thing he wanted to deal with after a long day indulging the severe faces of the Cranefish Town Business Council.
He strode irritably to Aang's room to ask him to earthbend shut their ground-level window once and for all–
Aang was distracted, halfway undressed. His tired eyes shone with delight; he stroked a chirping ferret in his lap. Zuko bit his tongue. Ferrets were not his friends today.
5.
They hadn't taken a single step into the hut when a flurry of orange greeted them. Zuko's tenuous heating abilities and Katara's bending had been the only thing narrowly preventing them from being swallowed by the blizzard raging outside.
Disoriented, Zuko stepped back at the force of the wind that nearly threw Katara into Aang's arms.
"I'm okay," Katara said, though Zuko had seen the fear in her eyes. "We're okay, Aang."
Aang lifted his head out of the fur of her parka. Zuko wheezed, feeling awkward amongst strangers.
Aang watched Zuko with distressed eyes and only gripped Katara harder.
4.
"–and nobody got a word in edgewise. All he talked about was you."
"Stop it." Katara rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were aglow, eyes sparkling.
Ty Lee laughed. The palace guard's helmet lay under one hand as she rested the other on Katara's, a squeeze to take the bite out of her teasing.
Zuko chuckled along, though hardly paying attention as she recounted their run-in with Aang in Republic City. Katara was a captivating ambassador and caring friend the past few months. He realised, dismayed, that he never saw her like this – grinning like a girl in love.
3.
It was early enough that the greyish sunlight only touched the horizon. Everything else was shrouded in darkness, including Aang and Katara and their tangled limbs, coiled cosily in Zuko's tent, guarded by the warmth of Zuko's fire. Both were asleep, though Aang wouldn't be for much longer.
Really, Zuko should have woken him. They should already be doing breathing exercises.
He dressed quickly, sparing only glances. He liked that they never brought their own gear when travelling around the Fire Nation. His gaze lingered on the blue of her necklace and his tattoos, where his own blanket caressed them.
2.
The first thing he felt was her hair. Its sea spray smell and windswept waves, and then her hands, their touch strong yet soft around his neck, free of all collars, casings and clothing. After that was her mouth; a sweet, thick whisper in his ear, lips on the cords of his throat.
Finally, there were her eyes. They watched without reservation.
In them was a disposition – a devotion – reserved for one person only.
His stomach lurched suddenly. He looked down at his hands, stared at the arrows, wretchedly familiar and alarmingly foreign.
Zuko awoke, parched, heart thundering.
1.
He lifted his face from his hands. The seared remains of the flamerose bush hissed pitifully.
He was supposed to be walking in the garden to cool down, not the opposite. The ministers were whispering again now it was time to review their reparation policy. Water Lord. And as usual, The Avatar's Fire Lord .
Topping it all off was the news of Aang and Katara's engagement, in every paper, in the mouths of every palacegoer. Their fortune never faltered.
Instantly the guilt rose – as if the plant had ever done anything to him. As if Aang or Katara had.
0.
Zuko closed his eyes, letting the salty breeze of Yue Bay wash over him. The chatter outside had mostly died, though Chief Hakoda's voice drifted from the patio below. Soon, he would meet his friends, this time with no interruptions from wedding guests.
For now, he was alone with his thoughts.
His only thought.
Aang and Katara. Their giddy smiles at the marquee table, their shimmering shared glances up on that dais.
Zuko dug his palms into his eyes, hard. It wasn't an epiphany so much as a wake-up call.
He was interrupted, mercifully, by a knock on the door.