Cat Instincts

A bit of cork swings from a string in front of her. She stares at it a moment before giving Zuko the most unimpressed look she can muster.

His brow creases. "You don't want to play?"

"I am not a cat." She averts her face, nose pointed to the air. "Idiot."

"Is it because it still hurts too much?"

He fusses over her injuries, his touch gentle and full of concern. Most of her bruises have faded. The bandage has also come off her paw, which only twinges a little now, but her back leg still doesn't like to hold her weight. In short, she is in no condition to be escaping or making her way back to the others (much as she'd like to), but a simple game like batting a bit of cork on a string would be fine. But that's not the point. She is not a cat and she refuses to indulge him in this silly pastime.

"You seem much better," he observes, and then a boyish grin curves his mouth. "I get it. You think you're too good for this game, but I bet I can get you to play."

"Yeah, no. Not a chance."

The cork swings even more in front of her, bobbing and bouncing about. Her right paw twitches.

"C'mon, Miss Grumpy. You know you want to plaaaay."

Ugh. He is such a dork sometimes.

Bounce, bounce, swish, swish.

She swallows and keeps her paws firmly on the floor. She will not tap that stupid piece of cork, she will not tap that stupid piece of—

She lunges. One of her claws catches the cork and she cries out in triumph, pulling it towards her with both paws and biting down on it. Take that, dumb cork thing!

"I knew it!" He laughs in delight and leans over her, still holding the string. "No cat can resist."

She releases the cork. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Maybe she's actually turning into a cat.

"I'm not playing with you!" she declares, then limps off to his bedroom.

"Hey, Cat, where are you going?"

"Away from you!"

If only she could slam the door on his face.

oOo

He is reclining on his bed and reading some kind of scroll. She doesn't know why, but she has an odd urge to sit on his stomach. It just looks so … tempting.

Her eyes widen and she quickly looks away from him. These are bad thoughts. Worse than giving into her urges to bat at swishy things.

Control yourself, Katara! You are a human girl. Prince Zuko's stomach is not for sitting.

But it would be warm, the cat part of her argues. A nice, warm sitting spot.

She glances back at him. Oh, he would be lovely and warm. The blanket is better than the floor, but he is bound to be so much better than the blanket. She already got a hint of this from the time she slept curled against his side. That had been her best sleep ever.

He looks up from the scroll, golden eyes warming in that now familiar way when he meets her gaze. He is always so gentle with her. Prince Idiot, as she has come to understand, is a big softie for animals. He certainly wouldn't care if she wanted to sit on his stomach.

"What is it, Cat?" he asks, tilting his head. "You're giving me that grumpy face again."

"I hate the fact I want to sit on you."

There's no embarrassment in saying the words, because of course he can't understand her anyway. Indeed, he just smiles and goes back to reading his scroll.

Ugh. What's so interesting about that scroll anyway?

She gets up to investigate, limping with each step. It occurs to her that she'll have to walk on him if she wants to see what he's reading. Well, whatever. It's not like she's planning to stay on him. This is all to satisfy her curiosity.

She steps awkwardly onto his stomach and—oh, he's just as warm as she suspected. Her claws come out a little and she has an urge to … knead?

No!

Katara shakes her head and marches up his chest. He's looking at her now in faint surprise. (She hardly ever approaches him by choice, and certainly has not stepped all over him before.) With a determined glint in her eye, she bats at the scroll with her paw and even bites it until he lowers it.

A soft laugh escapes him. "You want attention, do you?"

"What? No, I was just trying to see what you're—"

His hands are suddenly petting and scratching at all the best spots: behind her ears, under her chin, smoothing along her back. Katara can't help it. She melts. It feels so nice. So soothing and relaxing.

Everything in her hums.

Wait.

He blinks. "Are you—"

Her purring stutters but refuses to die out completely. How mortifying.

"You're purring," he says in wonder. "This is the first time I've heard you purr."

She wants to crawl into a hole and stay there forever. How dare her body betray her like this? Yet when she looks up at his face, he's just smiling as if she's given him the best gift ever. He also keeps petting her in that wonderful way. So hard to move. So hard to resist.

"I like your purr," he says softly.

Katara just sighs and holds up the cat flag of surrender. Maybe if she indulges just this once, she won't feel the desire for pats and nice scratches again. Besides, it's not like he'll ever know she's actually a girl …

For those wondering what's going on with the gaang, they are indeed in Ba Sing Se and they are very worried about Katara. We just haven't seen them yet because this fic is written solely in her point of view.