"Katara! C'mon. Please, don't be boring —"
"Shut up," she says as she dusts herself off and gets out of her brother's van. Suki bends over from the back as Aang and Toph tussel about the latter's music taste.
"Katara. Sokka's new friend will be there —"
Aang manages to get himself out of Toph's headlock long enough to bend his neck outwards and smile genially at her, lips quivering as if he wasn't just in the process of strangulation. The short girl smirks and tugs harder at him but he temporarily ignores her — and he'll have to pay for that, Katara knows. "You know Zuko! He's really nice and new and he's —"
"He's Fire Nation, isn't he?" She raises an eyebrow and Aang rubs his hand against his neck sheepishly before getting pulled back into the car. Sokka grabs her hand as she turns around. "I know who Zuko is and I don't want to go meet him, Sokka."
Suki's painted lips quirk up a little bit as she tilts her head pleadingly. "Come on. He's a great guy and you told me that you were going to start expanding your horizons —"
"Suki!" Katara hastily gestures to Aang, who luckily is fighting over the radio dials and too busy to hear those words. The martial artist rolls her eyes playfully and reaches over to tug at her. She pulls away and crosses her arms. "I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine. My dating life is fine. And I'm not going to date your new Fire Nation friend."
"Just meet him, please? And you can't tell me the fact that he's Fire Nation is throwing you off —"
"No it's just . . . I've met him. He spilled coffee on me last week when you guys were checking out the hospital's structure and he always dresses in all black. He looks like he screams trouble and I don't want to get involved in that even if you all are fine with throwing yourselves to the wolves —"
"So, what? You're going to sleep at nine on a Friday and just —"
"I have an early shift tomorrow and you know it, Sokka! Someone here has to be responsible. And my dating life is fine," she addresses her best girlfriend. "Seriously, don't sweat it. I'm cool for right now. I'm happy with my early nights."
She knows that there's probably a strange lilt to her tone but Toph's won the war and her cacophonous noises mask it, and the dark and dry night hides the small flush of her cheeks. Sokka sighs once more before releasing her arm and letting her go into the night; she reaches down to hug Suki before tossing her bag over her shoulder and giving Aang and Toph a small wave that they both ignore. The van speeds off as she stands in front of her apartment, her face contented.
"Who are you texting?" she says as she places her backpack on her couch and slides down onto it as well. "Wait, how'd you get in?"
"You shouldn't leave your window unlocked, sweetheart, a criminal might come in," she can tell that he's smirking as his wooden mask brushes her face. She moves the bottom part of it up and warm lips touch her forehead. "And I'm just cancelling plans I forgot I made with a few friends."
"Sneaky," she laughs as he falls into place next to her. "I'm glad that I don't have to account for more terrible lawbreakers coming here."
"You're happy with this one?" he asks teasingly as he pulls her closer to him.
"Yeah," she looks up into the mask's terrifying visage — it should be worrisome, that she doesn't know what lies beneath it, but she trusts the Blue Spirit implicitly. She has for the past several months. Her lips curve up and then she buries her face into his warm black outfit, his smoky and spicy scent comforting. "Yeah, I am."
He moves his arm around her and grabs the remote; she takes it from his hand and starts clicking through Netflix, selecting a cooking show to watch after a moment. As they watch contestants line up he breathes into her ear. "You left your front window open too, you know. I heard you come in. That was your brother, wasn't it?"
"And Suki, and Toph and Aang," she hums, pulling the mask up a little to bare his lips to her, tracing them with her fingers before widening both corners until he's faux-smiling. He chuckles through his teeth.
"They wanted you to go somewhere with them?"
"Yeah, to meet one of their new friends or something," she says dismissively "I'd rather be here, though."
His voice shudders. "Do you not like the . . . person?"
"No," she shakes her head. "Zuko . . . I haven't interacted with him very much but I'm really certain that Suki, at least, wants to set me up with him."
She waits for a moment and then his voice croaks. "Oh."
Katara threads her fingers through the hand he has around her waist and stares at some kid chopping asparagus. "I said no, of course. I've got you."
"Katara . . ." he says hesitantly, "you know that I know I can't ask you for this much, right? It doesn't really make sense for you to . . . I'm a bad guy . . ."
"It's in quotations," she replies slowly. "I like you just the way you are with all of your heroics."
"I can't ask you for that, though. You don't even know my real name —"
"Blue," she looks up into the sheer panel around his eyes, pulling the mask down a little so she knows that she's truly making eye contact with him. "You like me, right?"
His breath catches for a second before he does something like stutter. "Y—yeah, of course. I like you a lot, Katara. I think I like you — the most, out of all the things I like —"
"Then we're fine," she winks at him, crushing his fingers, long and pale as they are. She draws his hand into her lap and starts rubbing her fingers on his wrist. The skin there is clear and smooth. "And they say I'm boring."
"You like sleeping at nine at night, I've heard," he says ruefully, and she'd like to think he's raising one of his eyebrows.
"I definitely do. I'm a model child, definitely. I sleep on time and then go to work —"
"And you don't associate with criminals," he abruptly stops. "I'm winking, right now. You can't tell," he grows quiet for a moment as the judges on the television deliberate over their dishes. "I should tell you who I am, Katara. You should — I like you. You should know."
"You're not getting out of it forever, definitely," she winks exaggeratedly at him. "But I don't think you're comfortable with it right now and I want you to be okay with it."
"I don't deserve you," he lets out a breath and moves himself over so that his chin is resting on her head. His voice sounds small and she smiles secretively.
"You deserve everything," she pronounces, turning in his grasp to tap at where she thinks his nose is. "Let's order food. I'm hungry."
"I can cook."
"I haven't gone shopping for groceries in, like, a week," she admits as she gets up, running her hand over his hair as she goes to grab her phone.
"Katara! Not cooking?" He asks mockingly. "Are you alright?"
"I'm busy," she sticks out a tongue at him from where he's turned around and facing her. "And you fill up my spare time, you creaky spirit. All my friends really think I'm a basket case," she admits before perking up. "Pizza?"
"Yeah, of course — and Katara? You're not boring at all —"
"What toppings?"
"You know. But you're not a basket case —"
She plugs one of her ears to rattle off their order — a large spinach and olive and pepperoni pizza — into the phone. He quiets down as she finishes and then reaches for her hands as she wanders back. "You know they're probably kidding, right? They're just concerned about you. I mean — they don't know about me. They have no idea how you're spending your time. Not that they should know everything you're doing or anything like that, that doesn't make much sense either, but they're just concerned . . . Katara?"
"I'm fine."
He reaches a hand up and warmth cushions her face and wipes away her tears — she sniffles. "You're amazing, you know that?"
She just nods and shoves her face into his chest. He holds her with one arm and angles his mask up a little again, shifting it to the left to ensure that it covers his scar before pressing his lips to her cheek. She tastes salty. "You're not boring."
"I mean, what do I do besides be with you and work? Watch Netflix?"
"That's what everyone does. You're not missing out on — I do wish I could take you out in public," he sighs, and she snickers.
"I can just imagine us going for a picnic in the park and everyone just staring . . . that would be hilarious, wouldn't it?" He doesn't think it's quite that funny at first but after a second he considers the implications and starts chuckling as well.
"Yeah, we would make quite a pair. The doctor and the criminal."
"Sort-of-criminal."
"I'm a criminal."
"You have a heart of gold," she says, her eyes clear again, as she reaches up to press his lips against hers. And now he feels emotional again and like he's going to cry — he's lucky she can't see a tear leak out of his damaged eye. That's going to be a hard one to bring up eventually anyway, even if she hasn't yet brought up Zuko's. But at least she doesn't completely hate him. He feels so dishonest. "Now let's shush. I want to finish this episode. I think the girl in the flower apron should've won that round. At least she hasn't been disqualified yet."
Katara curls her feet up into him, clothed in large fuzzy socks, and he smiles as he gathers her up into his lap.
She's already asleep by the time the pizza guy comes knocking at the door, and he lets her down gently as the person outside slams it harder. Zuko makes quick work of his mask and grabs his wallet from his back pocket, grabbing a twenty-dollar bill and thrusting it at whoever's outside before grabbing the warm dinner and stealing it back in. He's just tightened the last string on the blue visor when Katara flops and turns around, her eyes opening slowly.
"Time to get up, sleepy," he teases, walking over to her kitchen and sliding out two plates. She wanders over to the bathroom to wash her hands before they dig in, and ostensibly also to wash her face and remove the lethargy marking her features. When she's back and he's cleaned himself as well he sits with his mask up a bit and places a piece on both of their plates. With another yawn she takes a smacking bite. He reaches out and smooths out a portion of her hair before digging in himself.
"It's good," she moans around it, and he hides his smile behind his own bite.
"You should sleep after this, too. When did you wake up today?"
"Four or five," she mutters. "But I napped in the shuttle."
"Yes, for barely an hour," he reprimands. "Sleep time for you."
"You woke up early too."
"I work a nine-to-five, sweetheart. I'm much luckier than you."
"Just like Sokka," she groans. "You crazy engineers."
"We're very sane," he notes as he reaches for the chili peppers. She shudders as he spills them across his slice.
"Nobody who enjoys that much spice can be sane."
"You want some?" he smiles and hands out the nearly empty packet to her. He's gotten slowly better at matching his voice and mouth to his expressions, but it's hard to be fully candid without his eyes. She shirks away immediately before seeming to reconsider. "One bite. I'm living on the edge today."
"Every day," he reminds her and sprinkles some over her slice. One second later and she's running over to the trash can and spitting the bite out. "You really have no tolerance, do you?"
"I have tolerance. I can eat really salty and bitter stuff but spice — ugh, no," she shudders, eyes lighting up. "I should make you try sea prunes!"
"Yeah, I'm good," he notes but she's already reaching for her phone and heading to her grocery list app.
"I'm adding them right now. You'll come over on Sunday, right?"
He tilts his head and stares at her expression through the mesh, so unbearably happy in this moment. "Where else would I be?"
"Good point," she declares. Then she finishes the rest of her slice, eating around the reddened area, before grabbing another and shoving it into her mouth. He matches her pace and by the time they're on their thirds they're both full.
"Dishes on me," he grabs them and Katara brightens at him before sliding the box into her empty fridge. She stares at him rinsing their two plates for a second before he sets them aside, pouting when he reaches down to rinse his hands.
"I should sleep."
"You really should," he notes, turning away only for her to ram her way into his arms. "You're going to do lots of intelligent-people things tomorrow."
"Boring things."
"Never," he reiterates, slowly shuffling away until they're in the middle of her living room. She's almost pressed to the wall and her cheeks are flushed. He leans down with his pizza breath and kisses her on the lips; she returns the favor to his cheek before flattening down off her tiptoes.
"I probably won't be home tomorrow," she pulls his mask down and he nods.
"Okay. I'll come over on Sunday. Does any particular wine go good with your stew?"
"No wine will be involved," she points her finger into his chest. "It'll just be the two of us. And a good time. I'm going to miss you."
"Me too. I like you," he traces the contours of her face and she blushes, running her hand over the mask and the skin right below it — the right side, luckily.
"I like you, too. Now go, you spirit."
At that he moves over to her window and slides it open a little before stepping out onto the fire escape below. She turns off the lights before he hits the bottom, but he can see her figure outlined in the dull glow of the moon, sending him off.