He's startled awake when he chokes on something, and he realizes that he's surrounded by a sea of dark brown hair that tickles his chest. He sits up, head immediately spinning with the slightest of movements, and squints to make sense of his surroundings. He traces the long strands of silky hair with his eyes, nearly falling off the bed when he realizes who it belongs to.

He follows the curve of the sleeping woman's body but has to look away when he sees that her shirt has ridden up... and that she's not wearing pants. One hand runs down his face, nails scratching the numb skin of his scar as he tries to remember what in Agni's name has led to this disgraceful outcome.

The night before, there was an invitation to celebrate the end of a rather complicated project, he recalls. Practically the whole team had had a hand, in some capacity or other, in putting together the campaign to reinvent the archaic Avatar Day festival by Tong's request, and it was only fitting that they'd celebrate being freed from the picky client together. What wasn't part of the plan, however, was drinking a bit too much… and ending up with one of his colleagues in his bed the morning after.

He glances down at her again (making sure to keep his gaze on her face!). She looks younger when she sleeps. And peaceful. Probably due to the absence of the scowl she has on whenever she's interacting with Zuko in the office. He sighs, coming to the conclusion that oozing at her sleeping face for any longer will definitely get him in trouble, and carefully sneaks out of the room.

The shower helps alleviate his splitting headache, and he can feel some of his energy returning as the steaming hot water washes away the tension in his sore muscles. Freshened-up and dressed, Zuko crosses the apartment with quiet steps, still mindful of the guest sleeping in his bedroom, though internally wondering whether there's anything he can do to disturb what appears to be a deep slumber.

In the kitchen, he drops a few chunks of ginger in the kettle and sits down to read the paper. Halfway through a review of a new art exhibit in the city museum, he hears a scream, and then a thump. He wonders if he should go check on her, but the part of him that would rather not be the target of her hungover wrath wins, and Zuko remains glued to his stool. He rubs his eyes, begging the Spirits to let this all be just a weird dream. The Spirits prove that this is anything but as a lot of fumbling and grumbled curses later, the bedroom door slams open, and she comes stumbling out.

Katara's eyes widen as if she's surprised to see him there… having the audacity of having a cup of tea… in his own kitchen. One of her hands ball into a fist and with the other pointed at him, she blurts, "This never happened. And if you tell anyone"—her eyes narrow—"I will kill you."

Before he has any time to react at all, she's already storming out of his apartment, the front door slamming so hard behind her that it shakes the portraits hanging on the wall.

Great, Zuko chides inside his head. How on earth is he supposed to face her at work now?


It's a good thing that the office has a casual dress code. Thanks to it, no one pays any more attention than usual to the wrinkled clothes she has put on in a hurry, nor her slightly damp and unfashioned curls that fly everywhere after her morning shower.

Katara drops herself on her chair, resting her forehead against her desk. The sensation of the cool surface is nice, but overall, she still feels like she's dying. There's no strength in her arms; her skull is throbbing; her throat is dry; she feels nauseated… and that's without adding the whole thing with waking up in another person's bed to the list. And not just some random guy from the bar's bed (that would still be awful, don't get her wrong, but for different reasons)—goddamn Zuko's, the egotistical strategy analyst who is always on her case for doing things that aren't specified in the scope!

"Cutting it close, aren't we?" Suki mocks, sitting on the edge of her desk.

Katara grunts, angling her face so her cheek still remains pressed against the wood, and glares at the other woman. She grumbles, "I slept in."

That technically isn't a lie. She did sleep in, but she also had to go back to her own place first—there's no way she'd show up in the office wearing what she assumes were his clothes; that'd be like shouting out loud that she didn't go back home last night, but she can't really tell Suki that. So sleeping in it is.

Suki hums, unconvinced, and gives Katara her cactus mug filled to the brim with a red liquid. "Tomato juice," she explains. "The boss figured people would be hungover today."

"He would be right."

"Had a little bit too much fun last night?"

Katara can't stop the heat from rising to her cheeks at the question, and with her lips pressed against her mug, she mumbles, "What do you mean?"

Suki turns to look directly at her, eyebrows knitting together in worry. "Katara. You were HAMMERED. Sokka and I tried to make you slow down, but you wouldn't listen. And you and Zuko went at it."

She chokes, tomato juice burning her nostrils and making tears form in the corner of her eyes. "W-what?"

"You kept nagging him," Suki says, eyeing Katara with something between concern and skepticism. "Telling him to stop being so gloomy and uptight all the time. You threw a drink at him."

With every word that comes out of Suki's mouth, Katara's head sinks lower between her arms. She shuts her eyes and rocks back and forth, fingers tugging on her hair so hard it nearly rips it off her scalp, and she prays for a hole on the floor to swallow her and save her from this misery. "Please tell me you're joking."

"And he was so nice too. Didn't even complain when Sokka made him take you home."

"He took me home alright," she grumbles under her breath.

"What was that?"

Katara shakes her head, dismissing the other woman. Checking her phone, she asks, "Isn't it time for the team meeting?"

"I guess." Suki nods as the two of them head to the conference room. "Seriously though, I don't get why you hate him so much."

"I don't hate him," Katara huffs. "I just don't like how he acts like he knows better than everyone else."

"Shouldn't that make you guys besties instead?"

"What's that supposed to mean—" In her agitated state, Katara isn't paying attention to her surroundings, and when she and Suki turn on the corner, they end up bumping into another person. The sudden collision sends her mug crashing onto the floor, an explosion of liquid spraying everything within reach red. Her now empty hand opens and closes as if her brain's having trouble comprehending where the mug's gone.

The man in front of her slowly turns around, and no one other than Zuko himself looks back at her with dread written all over his face.

"Great," she snaps, annoyance unexplainably rising in his presence. "That was my favorite mug."


He offers to clean up the mess, partly because he feels like it was his fault in the first place, but also because that gives him a plausible excuse to not be in the same closed space as her for a little longer. So even after his shoes are taken care of and the hallway is declared a tomato-free zone, Zuko just allows himself to skip the rest of the meeting altogether. It's so late that him entering the conference room will just interrupt the rest of the team's momentum anyway.

He's busy crunching numbers into a spreadsheet when he feels Appa sniffing his shoes under the desk. He shrieks when cold slobber drips down his ankle and tries to unsuccessfully shoo the dog away.

"Why does it stink of tomatoes in here?" Toph asks, dropping herself on the desk behind him.

"You don't wanna know," Zuko grunts, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Hey, buddy! Missed you at the meeting." Sokka scoots in with his chair, hitting Zuko's desk and making a pencil holder fall and spill its content all over the place.

"Can you miss me from somewhere else? Like, far away from here?"

Sokka doesn't even seem to hear it as he unabashedly rummages through Zuko's drawers. He finds a bag of pita chips and without even asking, starts eating it. He chews with his mouth open, loud crunching sounds making Zuko want to stab his ears with a pen. Sokka sighs, faking a pained expression. "And here I was willing to debrief you out of the kindness of my big heart—"

When Sokka tries to open the bottom drawer, Zuko's hand slams it shut again. He throws his coworker a threatening glare. "Stop. Eating. My. Food."

Sokka rolls his eyes. "Cheapskate."

"So?" Zuko sighs. "What do you have to report?"

"We're having another team-building bootcamp next month. Presence is mandatory."

"Joy. What is it this time?"

"Aang said it's a surprise." Sokka shrugs, folding his hands behind his back and stretching his legs languidly. "Maybe he'll finally treat us to a spa day."

"Or he'll take us to a foggy swamp to test our survival skills," Toph suggests with a snort.

"Do you enjoy crushing my dreams?" Sokka whines, scowling in her direction.

"I do as a matter of fact."

Sokka groans. "Anyway, Operations and Management had a bunch to say, but you can read about those in their email threads... oh, and my sister's acting jumpier than usual today. Any idea why?"

"Why would I know anything about the inner functioning of your sister's brain?" Zuko snarls a little too defensive.

"You were probably the last person to see her last night."

And the first one to see her this morning, he thinks.

"Noticed anything weird then?"

"... No."

"Huh. Let me know if you find anything out." And with that, Sokka hops up on his feet and pats Zuko on the shoulder.

"Will do," he mumbles as his friend walks around a group of desks and disappears.

Soon after, someone else's chair is hitting his desk again.

"Why did you lie to Sokka?" Toph asks with her arms crossed.

Zuko's palms sweat, and he once again starts reorganizing his pencil holder to keep his mind busy. With his voice as even as possible, he says, "I didn't."

"You just did it again," she deadpans.

"Dammit, Toph."

"Did something happen between you and Sugar Queen?"

Zuko rubs his eyes and wonders if he'll get any work done today. "I refuse to have this conversation with you."

"Who else are you gonna talk to?" Toph sneers, rolling her head back. "Her overprotective brother?"

"Have you emailed Satoru yet? Because I told you I needed it done ASAP."

"Sheesh, don't be such a sourpuss." Toph throws her arms in the air and pushes her chair back to her assigned space. Headphones slightly crooked on her head, she leans on one of the arms of her chair and faces him again. "Just answer me this one thing then."

"... Fine. Ask your question."

"Is she really that pretty?"

"TOPH!"


Zuko can't wait to get home and pour himself a nice and cold beer. After the long day he had, he more than deserves a little treat. Reaching his apartment, however, he quickly realizes that he can't relax just yet: his door is unlocked.

Very quietly, he peeks inside. The lights in the living room are on, and the television is playing, but he can't see any intruders yet. He has his phone ready to call the cops and report a break-in when he hears the "Hello, brother."

The tension immediately leaves his shoulders at the sound of his sister's unmistakable voice. But then he remembers that she's not supposed to have a spare key to his place and his jaw clenches again.

"Azula." He takes his shoes off before entering and finds the girl sprawled on the couch with her head hung upside down as she watches TV. Azula has apparently not hesitated to make herself at home, considering the cans on the floor and the open bags of chips on the coffee table. "How the hell did you get in?"

"Picked the lock, how else?" Azula mocks with a smirk. When he's close enough, she nudges him with her foot. "You should get better locks, Zuzu. A newborn could break in with their hands tied behind their back."

"Thanks for letting me know," he grumbles, dragging his feet to go sit on the vacant couch.

"It's good to see that your apartment is as dull as ever," his sister says, her eyes moving back to the show she's watching as she speaks. "May I suggest a hobby, brother dearest? I hear yoga is on brand these days."

Zuko rubs his eyes, tired. "I'll think about it."

"Ironic how you do publicity for a living, yet your public image is trash," Azula laughs at her own joke, then turns serious and shifts her gaze back to him. "And as your sister, I feel like it's my duty to tell you that blue is really not your color."

He instinctively checks his outfit, but there's not a single speck of blue in sight. "What are you talking about?"

"I saw your laundry basket."

Oh.

When Katara bolted in a total fury storm that morning, it left him completely lost on what to do with her clothes, so he figured the nicest thing to do was to wash them and leave them in a bag under her desk before the rest of the staff arrived. He just didn't expect anyone to go through his dirty laundry in the meantime…

"It's not what you're thinking, not that I owe you any explanation," Zuko gets up, and as an attempt to end the conversation, heads to the kitchen.

"Honestly, I'm happy for you, Zuzu." A wall blocks his view but Azula's voice, too docile to be genuine, still follows after him. He cranes his neck and sees her looking at him from over the backrest with her chin in her hands. "Who would've thought that this day would ever come?"

Curiosity gets the best of him, and he arches an eyebrow at her in question.

"My big brother… not a virgin anymore."

He grits his teeth, letting out the air through his nose slowly. "Did you seriously just come here to raid my kitchen and blurt out all this nonsense?"

"As fun as riling you up is," Azula sighs, sitting up. Mirth leaves her semblance as her voice takes a more somber tone. "I actually need you to do something for me."

"... What is it?"

"Do you remember Ty Lee?"


Day 1: Hair.

Greetings! This is me trying to write something for Zutara Week. It's a Modern AU because that's what I feel most comfortable writing, but this is the first time I write an ATLA multi-chap, so I don't know how well that went. Criticism is always welcome. Also, follow me on tumblr jellylollie (that's my username everywhere) for fandom shenanigans. I sometimes draw stuff.