Thank you for the response of Katara and Zuko's ages; as you can tell, I'm not too apt about the Olympic-age thing. Sometimes I enjoy authors who have everything planned out even if it's not shown, and sometimes I think a more ambiguous setting. In this case, their ages are not "canon," so to speak.

10. Affliction

"You. Are. Sick."

"Thank you (cough cough), Coach Agni. Truly (hack) I would be (achoo!) lost without your wisdom." She sighed, wishing she hadn't let him in. He was now tidying up the "clutter" in her room, which included tossing her clothes into the laundry basket. She was lying helpless, entangled in cozy blankets, as he violated her personal sanctuary.

Zuko did not look amused. "Katara, how in the world did you get sick?"

"I have a (cough!) brother who participates in (cough!) martial arts that involves contact with other guys. Need I say more?"

"Why isn't he with you?" Zuko swept his hand at the empty house, except for Katara lying in bed with tissues, cough medicine, a spoon, aspirin, and a book on her nightstand. A small trash can was nearby.

"Comic Con."

Zuko's good eye twitched. "He left you for approximately three days alone to attend a mediocre—"

Katara raised her head and brandished her spoon at his face. "Do not (coughcoughcough) go on with that sentence. It was bad enough (hack! hack!) I couldn't go because of my training."

"For the Olympics," Zuko felt inclined to point out.

Katara rolled her eyes as she flopped back onto her pillows. "Three days of rest won't (achoo!) kill you. Besides, I told him he should—" she wiped her nose quickly and tossed it smoothly in the trash. "go. He trusted me, because (achoo!) I am old enough to take care of myself—"

"I'm just helping you. You need to get well—"

"Because now the flu will potentially cripple me and my chances for ever winning the gold." She coughed furiously, reaching for a throat lozenge in her drawer.

Grabbing the small capsule and unwrapping it, Zuko handed it to her with a steady frown. "Katara—"

"Look. All I need is (hacking cough) rest and lots of fluids. I've come to a conclusion that you are the reason for my stress. Half of it is for the Olympics, and half of it is for something else. Achoo!"

"Something else?" He had finished with the laundry basket and moved on to straightening her bookshelf. She felt like screaming, but that would make her throat worse. Why did his controlling attitude have to extend to her room?...wait, that sounded wrong. She pulled her head farther under the covers, minding that the cherry cough drop didn't slide into her throat.

"Two words. It was solved by the zoo (coughcoughcoughcough) kiss."

Zuko paused for moment, hand still on The Hobbit. His ear turned red, and Katara watched in satisfaction as the rest of his face followed with a quiet "Oh. Oh."

"Mm-hm."

He shook his head, stepped away from her books (Katara sighed in relief), and stroked the damp hair away from her head. "Is arguing a thing of ours?"

She would have kissed him if she hadn't been coughing up phlegm that morning. "Yes, Zuko. Get used to it."

He bent over her, and she felt light pressure on her forehead.

"Zuko, don't. You'll get sick." She shook her head weakly.

"Hey, you're the priority here. Not me. If I have to, I'll coach you from a waterproof laptop in the pool."

"You know I could just, theoretically, (achoo) switch it off."

"And you won't, theoretically, know what you're doing right or wrong."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Mature. Real mature. I'll just make you some tea."

"Zuko, are you supposed to be a rival teammate in disguise? I swear—" she coughed furiously, this time not from her illness. "this is poison."

Zuko slumped as she handed the full, steaming cup of tea back to him. "I'm sorry. Uncle says it's bracing."

"Too kind of that man." She shook her head. "Did you use the tea bags in my cupboard?"

"No. I thought homemade from scratch—"

"Use the teabags, Zuko."

"Katara, why are you watching a movie? What is this? You should be sleeping!"

"Hey, I paid for it! Let me watch it!" She tried to wave him off, but he sat down with her on the edge of the bed.

"Is this...Toy Story?"

Katara stuck out her lip and pouted petulantly. "I had a nostalgic feeling in my stomach."

"I'm sure you're just going to throw up again."

"Charming, Zuko. Now shut up." She closed her eyes as Zuko's fingers moved through her tangled brown locks.

She did end up vomiting over the toilet and holding back her hair as "You Got a Friend in Me" cheerfully played along with the credits. Zuko stayed on the bed to watch.

"Zuko? Why is there a strange old man in the kitchen?"

"Oh, that's Uncle Iroh."

"Your uncle? Who owns the Jasmine Dragon?"

"Yeah, Uncle's tea can cure anything, I swear—"

"So you dragged him from his business that helps him make money to make me tea? How crazy are you?" This outburst caused her to dissolve in a small coughing spasm. Zuko gently patted her back, but she swatted him away.

"To be fair," Uncle Iroh said as he was taking out some of the leaves from an odd travel bag that could be folded into a mat and was neatly organized with different roots and leaves. "My shop closed half an hour ago."

She stared stupidly at both of them and held her head in her hands. "Zuko, I—" She shook her head. "Both of you are nuts!"

Katara stomped off, as well as she could in a rat's nest of bed head, a red and runny nose, weary eyes, and a polar-bear studded robe with fuzzy slippers shaped like penguins. Zuko watched her go with a fond smile on his face.

Iroh handed him a far superior brew of hot, soothing tea. "You've got your hands full, nephew."

"No, I don't." Zuko grabbed a small plate from the counter and carefully set it under one of Katara's blue-swirled mugs, starting for his charge's room. "I don't at all."