And, we're back to the Olympics AU! I can't believe how much support this particular one has gotten, and you all have inspired me to expand this! (the original was only going to be two prompts) Thank you all!

6. Desired

"Excuse me, but may I speak with Katara for a few moments?"

The swim practice had jerked to a screeching halt, despite that Pakku hadn't blown his whistle. Katara considered once again dunking her head under the water and never pulling it out when her teammates gaped, drool almost escaping from their lips, as Zuko Agni stood right before them, under the bright flourescent lights. Pakku was even gaping, but he nodded quickly. "Yes, yes. Katara, go see him." Finally noticing the stupified faces of his well-polished team, he immediately snapped back to action. "What are you doing! Five laps, now!"

Before Katara had fully clambered out of the pool, she had noticed her normally intelligent teammates, before obeying Pakku's order, were whispering the obvious as she followed Zuko out the door to the locker room:

"It's Zuko Agni."

"It's Zuko freaking Agni."

"Oh my God. I am going to faint right here, in this pool. It is so him."

"I wish I had my phone to capture this moment. Zuko Agni standing right here. Wow."

"Look at that nice ass."

Katara could not resist what all humans could not...curioiusity. She hadn't exactly gotten to get a nice peek when she was carrying sandbags or treading water. Submitting to her base desires and the unintentional command, she looked.

Her inner demon purred and licked its lips. In horror, she was opening her mouth to comment, a glitch in her faulty, possibly perverted, feminine mind, when she grabbed a metaphorical club and smacked it soundly over the head.

But she inwardly shrugged as Zuko looked behind him to make sure she was following. It was nice.

"Is this another gala I'm forced to attend with you?"

Zuko did not look pleased at her jibe. "No. But I got...this in the mail today." He handed out a thick sheet of paper with an indented, gold seal at the top with scripted, bold, black words running thorugh it. Katara seized it in a mixture of anger and anticipation when the word Olympics caught her eye. She held it carefully away from her dripping form and began to read, ignoring Zuko's heavy breathing and shuffling. Only a few choice words stuck out in her head properly, and she had to reread them several times before they fully were enrgraved in her memory: Congratulations, compete, swimming event, confirm by next week, best wishes, Olympics. Water was forming a puddle on the concrete floor, but she could only stand there numbly.

"What part of I quit do you not understand?" she finally got out in a half cry, half gasp.

Zuko looked suitably tense. "What was I supposed to think? You told me two weeks ago you would think about it, then you rejoined your old swimming team! I see you practicing by yourself a lot during the week! Again, what was I supposed to think?"

"You are supposed to think that you were going to let me make my own decision about this!" Great, we're fighting again. We ought to make a schedule. "I don't want to do this; I've decided! It's my life, and you are not my coach anymore, Zuko!"

"You really are going to throw this away?" Zuko gestured furiously to the paper in her hands. "You do know you will have to start over again if you decide to do it after the deadline!"

"You ass!" Great, a mental image. Not the best time for it now! "Let me make decisions about my life, because it is my life...oh! You're not making this come out right!" She threw the invitation at him anti-climatically. It was pathetic, really, but she was too worked up to care at the moment. "I will not join the Olympics!"

"You say that now, but..."

"But nothing! You stay out of this!" She turned to storm off, but her foot suddenly slid right from underneath her, from the puddle that had formed on the slippery smooth concrete. Katara gasped, breath caught in her throat in that split-second, right before Zuko's arm enveloped her and pulled her close.

She inhaled a sweet, but sharp scent, like pumpkin spice candles, and felt his muscled body underneath the loose jacket. Katara groaned inwardly. His arms and hands were on the small of her back and winding around her waist. The chlorine-scented water was soaking into his clothes.

Zuko shoved her away as fast as he could, but gently, so he wouldn't have to catch her again. His face was red. Her face was, too.

"So you don't injure yourself." He coughed, too on cue to be real.

"I'm still not competing, Zuko." Katara turned, this time more carefully, and walked off.

"So, Sugar Queen, you have the address. Why aren't you writing the rejection response right now?"

"Toph, I'm still deciding."

"I see."

"Please, no more blind puns again. I can't take it."

Toph snorted on the other end. "All right, fine. I'm just saying. You now have six days left to...decide. You keep telling Hotpants no, but I hear you turning that paper in your hands."

Katara quickly set it down, spooked. "It could be any paper, Toph...wait—" She paused, calling back Toph's last line. "Hotpants?"

"Well, yeah. You know I can't see—thanks for your sensitivity, by the way—but I hear people describe him. Tall, dark, handsome, cliché."

"Toph..." Katara sighed and rolled over on her bed. "That's really not the point right now—"

"Ah! Dodging the question! The first sign of infatuation!"

"Toppphhh!" Katara nearly whined. The phone beeped. Call waiting. Thank God. "Listen, hold on. I have someone on the other line."

"Whatever, Sugar Queen." Her hand couldn't hit the button fast enough.

"Made your decision yet?"

"How did you get my number?"

"Pakku."

Katara swore loudly into the phone, hoping it would make his ear bleed. "Stop bothering me! I said no!"

"Have you mailed it yet?"

"Why don't you?"

"Some part of it has to have legal proof of your identity, like your signature—"

"Ugh!" She hung up on him, wishing Toph wasn't on the other line so she could slam the phone with violence.

"So, who was that?"

"No one."

"Hmmm, anger. Perhaps unresolved sexual tension?"

"Toph, I swear—"

"I told you...no more galas!"

"It isn't a gala...it's a luncheon."

"I said no!"

"It isn't official until you've signed the rejection notice. Which isn't mailed, I presume?"

Katara resisted the urge to kick him as hard as she could in the shin. "You better have that limo ready."

"Um, I'll have the uh...um, number twenty-two." Katara said, giving up on pronouncing the French dish. She had never taken French in her life, but Zuko, apparently, either did or had ordered French food so many times that his voice flowed out smoothly and almost liquid-like. Katara sighed, then took another sip of water. She prepared for two hours of boredom and fingered in her purse for that book she'd snuck in.

Jet was right next to her, with a tall, pale woman on his left. "Tell me, Katara, how have you been?"

"I've been...fine." Katara said awkwardly, dropping the paperback. It landed in her bag, thank goodness. Luckily, Zuko was engaged with chatting with June, another swimming coach and champion. "What about you?"

"Excellent." Jet reached past her to grab a breadroll, then whispered in her ear: "But I have been denied your company, so not so much."

Katara nearly dropped her own roll and fought her blush. "Uh, that's nice." She tried to give out that she was responding to Jet's audible statement, not the sneaky one, but it failed when Jet covertly shot her a wink.

Zuko then placed a hand on her knee, and she jumped, this time—her knee banged against the mahogany, and she gasped in pain. Others turned to stare, and she looked down.

"Are you okay, Katara?" Zuko asked her kindly.

"I'm fine." Katara smiled weakly, then took the opportunity as she grabbed another roll, taking a cue from Jet: "Do not touch me like that."

Zuko looked confused. "I was just trying to tell you that your food is arriving."

Katara glared at him, despite the crowd, her cheeks now as red as apples. "Do you know nothing—" The bowl of fish stew was delicately slid right underneath her nose, so the smell distracted her long enough for Zuko to quicky dig into his ratatouille and another small dish of a French soup whose name she couldn't pronounce. She couldn't scold him now, so she decided to eat.

"Tell me...Katara?" Katara looked up. Jet's partner for the afternoon, his student, was staring at her with golden eyes almost like Zuko's, but darker. "This will be your first time competing in the Olympics?"

"Um, I..." Katara dunked her bread into her soup. "Yes..." She hoped Zuko didn't take that as a real answer.

"Hm." Mai, the woman, looked her over. She was thin and tall, and her glossy black hair swirled around her shoulders pleasantly, but her eyes were critical. "Good luck."

"Uh, thank you." Katara didn't feel as if Mai really meant it, but she nodded weakly.

"Zuko, I've barely seen you." Mai continued. "How are you?"

Zuko looked at her with an unreadable face. "Well. You?"

"Well." Her eyebrows raised, as if to say I can play this game too. "I find it odd that you're coaching again."

Jet was leaning forward and ignoring his foie gras. Katara was sure something was about to happen, but she wasn't quite sure what. June, the lady Zuko was talking to earlier, was also looking, along with a few others.

"Yes." Zuko glanced at Katara. "Katara is a wonderfully talented student. She works very hard, but she also has natural talent."

This seemed to prick a barb within the woman. "Even so, I bet you work with her often."

"She can pace herself without my chaperoning." His tone was even.

"So you don't spend a lot of time with her?"

Zuko was now furrowing his brow at something secret implied in her tone. He looked at Katara again as if for assistance.

Katara took the plunge. "We spend time in each other's company."

Mai's eyes were latched onto hers now. "I see. I do hope you don't make the same mistake as I did, hanging around him so long."

Katara realized she'd fallen into Mai's trap and had made a huge faux pas, as Zuko's ears were turning as red as her ccheeks before, and Jet was smirking as if his partner had scored a point. Zuko was now making a distinct effort to eat his meal again, then gulping down wine. She stared at her ex-coach's past in the face and said clearly, "You are terrible." Mai was opening her mouth, but Katara cut her off. "I wish you luck, and I do hope that you're a good competitor. Zuko, come on. We're getting our lunch to go."

"She's normally not like that." Zuko was saying as they were getting into the limo. "Only when she's intimidating new competition."

Katara stared at him.

"It used to be funny." he said, sitting with his lunch neatly packed in a box on his lap.

"Hm. Fun." She turned away and faced the window.

"Thanks for...trying to help."

Katara sighed and stretched out her legs. She felt warm when his gaze immediately swerved towards her skin, then quickly back to his feet. She felt airy as she answered, "That's a stupid apology, but I'll take it."

Zuko was now glaring. "It wasn't an apology!"

Katara smirked, crossed her legs. "Consider it one."

She didn't mail her letter.

Continued with Pride tomorrow.