How Do I Loathe Thee?

Author's Note: (Waves sheepishly) Hey, sup? Anyhoo, I'm not dead. I have officially managed to write another chapter (see my profile if you are confused). This chapter is Zutara-centric. Its almost sort of kind of fluffy if you squint. So, there's that. Also, it encompasses one heck of an awkward morning. Tee-hee. Oh, and one more thing. In the first chapter I went back and gave Aang and Suki last names. They are actually Old English words: Suki's means "Viking" or "Warrior on the sea" or something to that effect (Fun-Fact: there are at least fifteen O.E. words that mean Viking); Aang's last name means "bald" because I'm easily amused.

Because it's been a hella long time, here's a brief/cynical recap of what's happened so far:
Sokka's desperation for a public date with his secret girlfriend (Suki) drove him to manipulate Zuko (with the help of Zuko's meddlesome Uncle Iroh) into dating his sister. Said sister (Katara) predictably hates Zuko, so more manipulation is necessary to get her to go out with him. Once plentiful manipulation had been divvied out all around, Katara decides (by way of Toph's manipulative suggestion) to get even by dragging Zuko to a crazy house party (the kind of scene Katara normally avoids like a hamper full of dirty jockstraps), where she promptly ditches her date, gets drunk, and ends up in a loud, teary battle with a "mysterious" toothpick-totin' asshole. Then -DRAMA- Zuko and Katara end up at a hospital, someone dies, everyone's sad, and then everyone falls asleep. Capisce? Capisce.

Chapter Five: I Hate The Way You Stare: Part One

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Zuko jolted awake, cringing as he did so because of the terrible crick in his neck. He rubbed it, and glanced sleepily at his surroundings. He was in the waiting room, he realized vaguely, in the very early morning. The sky was still mostly dark and from what he could tell from the window, heavy and overcast with morning due. It took him a couple moments to realize there was a warm weight on his arm, which at this point was uncomfortably numb and tingly.

Katara stirred a little in her sleep, loosening her grip slightly, and he took the golden opportunity to gently extricate himself. He leaned back and rolled his neck some, hoping to do a little more to relieve his tense muscles, and contemplated trying to fall back asleep. The sun hadn't even risen fully, after all –only mustering a dull, hazy sort of gray light. He pondered what might have woken him up in the unnervingly quiet room.

Then he jumped; a phone that wasn't his vibrated violently against his leg.

He sighed to calm his nerves. 'That could've done it,' his mind surmised. He picked it up intent on silencing it, until he saw the name that danced on the view screen: Dad. Zuko had a lot of experience dealing with upset fathers. However, there was little, if anything, to suggest he was at all skilled in doing so. Thus, a twitch of panic set in.

He gulped and looked down at Katara, still curled against him innocently in her sleep. She hadn't come home last night –the Mayor's daughter hadn't come home last night-, and Zuko was the culprit. Or, well, at least that was how Mayor Wattribe would see it. Zuko wasn't sure that the truth would go over well with the Mayor, but he couldn't just avoid the problem. The phone continued to vibrate in Zuko's hand, goading him into action. He donned a grim look and then carefully, if shakily, got to his feet. A safe distance from the sleeping girl, he flipped the phone open.

"H-hello?"

"Where the hell is my daughter?"

.-.-.-.-.

Katara was rudely awoken by a tube of toothpaste. It hovered before her eyes like a large, minty-fresh fly, so she swatted at it, fully intending to close her eyes and fall asleep again. –But this was persistent toothpaste that was not so easily daunted by the swipe of a hand. It had a voice too.

"Come on, Katara," it quietly chided in a rumbling voice that sounded suspiciously like Zuko Nations. "You've got to get up. I need to get you home."

Home? Katara's eyes shot open. She hadn't gone home last night. She hadn't called her dad… She groggily and clumsily jumped to her feet, barreling into and nearly knocking down Zuko in the process.

He steadied her and gave her a wry look. His face was pale and drawn, and there were definitely bags under his eyes. He was clearly still shaken and probably just as exhausted as she was. Still, he managed a small smile. "Well, at least you're awake now." He tossed her the tiny travel sized toothpaste and an equally dinky brush. "The nurse at the reception desk gave me a couple of these. I figured you might want to try and clean up a little bit before I get you home."

She rolled her tongue over her teeth and groaned. "My breath probably smells like tequila, vomit, and instant coffee, doesn't it?"

He rubbed his neck. "I'm going to go ahead and plead the fifth on this one, but hurry up –you're dad's going to have kittens if I don't get you back soon." He gestured behind him to the restroom sign.

Katara didn't need to be told twice. She popped into the women's room and quickly made herself as decent as possible, given her limited resources. Once her teeth were brushed (twice, just in case), and her hair was tamed and subdued back into a messy braid, she splashed some water on her face and tried to scrub some of the remnants of makeup and grime off. Then, she bolted out of the bathroom and nearly collided with Zuko again.

"Come on, let's go!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the elevator.

Of course, doing so required them to pass room 456. Katara stopped before it abruptly, suddenly remembering why she was at the hospital in the first place. Her mouth gapped for a moment, as she tried to come up with something to say- an apology, her condolences, but nothing seemed sincere enough. She gave Zuko a helpless, lost look.

His face was surprisingly expressionless. He shook his head, causing his hair to fall into his eyes and placed a hand lightly on Katara's shoulder. He squeezed and nudged her forward, letting his hand linger a moment longer than necessary. They continued in silence down the elevator and out to the car.

Katara wobbled on her feet as they reached her white BMW. She grinned humorlessly at him, "Maybe you should drive, I don't trust myself right now."

He nodded and she handed him the keys.

The drive started off in silence, Katara worriedly nibbling on her lower lip and fiddling with her hands in her lap. She looked out the window, down at her hands, at the roof… anywhere but Zuko.

"I talked to your dad," he said suddenly, instantly causing Katara to lose her avoidance battle.

The confusion must have been obvious on her face, because he continued: "Your phone vibrated and woke me up. I saw it was him calling and I thought I should answer… anyway, I explained everything to him."

"You explained?" She paled, "Everything?"

"Yes," he said plainly, focusing on the road ahead of him. "I told him how, while we were out, I got an urgent call from my Uncle and how I needed to get to the hospital immediately because of a family emergency. I told him that you offered to drive me, and how I'd asked you to stay with me… for moral support. And… how we fell asleep, innocently, in the waiting room."

She sank back into her seat and released her baited breath in a whoosh, "Oh." She licked her lips, took a deep breath, and turned to Zuko. "Thank you, I mean it, for everything."

He didn't look at her, only shrugged. "The last thing I want is to be on the mayor's bad side."

"No," she shook her head. "Not just for that. For… well, everything. For putting up with me last night and being so nice. I, I feel really stupid about everything. And terrible. Lower than dirt."

Zuko clenched the steering wheel. "It's alright."

"No, it isn't," she continued earnestly. "You must think I'm this horrible bitch, but I swear I'm not! I acted like a child last night, and forced you to bring me along and… and then you went ahead and even faced my dad for me, after everything I did." She focused on twisting the strap of her clutch back and forth in her lap. She glanced at Zuko from the corner of her eye, his face was inscrutable, as if he were biting back some cruel retort, or about to say something difficult. She looked away sharply.

"It was…" he said at length, choppily, "nice… not having to be alone last night."

Katara gapped at him, but was saved from having to respond because they'd finally arrived at her house. He pulled into the drive way and turned off the car. They sat awkwardly for a moment. "Well," he spoke finally, "We're here."

The duo took their time getting out of the car and walking to the door. And Katara expended a long, methodical search through her purse for the house key, before she realized that Zuko still had all of her keys. She took them from him sheepishly and stuck it into the door, only to have it swing open before she could twist it in the lock.

Hakoda looked like he'd barely slept and his mouth was drawn into a grim line. He nodded to Katara, "You look tired, go to bed." It wasn't a suggestion. "Zuko and I are going to have a little chat in the kitchen."

She hesitated, but the stern look from her father made her nod in ascent. She pulled the keys out of the door and walked inside. She paused on the stairwell and gave Zuko a helpless look, silently wishing him all the best, before hurrying on her way. 'How on earth,' she wondered forlornly, 'am I ever going to make this up to him?'

.-.-.-.-.-.

Zuko was beyond exhausted, both physically and mentally. It was barely even five-thirty in the morning and the previous night had gone from one of the most awkward of his life, to one of the hardest. And now he had to have a 'chat in the kitchen' with the mayor, not to mention the father of the under-aged girl he'd inadvertently kept out all night. Things were not keen to look up anytime soon.

Still, he silently followed Hakoda into his kitchen and sat down at a proffered chair. Zuko was too tired to do more than numbly stare as Katara's father fixed a couple mugs of coffee and handed one of them off to him. He took it mechanically, politely refusing the offer of cream or sugar. "Thanks."

Hakoda leaned against the kitchen counter and studied him. He took a sip of his coffee before he spoke. "A friend of mine who works at the hospital gave me a call a few minutes ago," he said. "He happened to be working over night. His shift ended about a half hour ago and as he was leaving, he happened to see Katara's name checked in on the visitor's list, and that she hadn't checked out."

Zuko nodded blearily and took a sip of his coffee. "So I guess this means my story checks out."

"For the most part," Hakoda pulled up a chair at the table and sat down. "Look, I appreciate what you did. It takes guts to stand up to a girl's father, especially given the night you must've had."

He shrugged, "I asked her to stay, it was my fault she was out all night." Zuko was terrible at lying, having not inherited his father's poker face, and found difficulty in telling even the whitest of lies. He hoped Hakoda would attribute any awkwardness on his part to fatigue and stress, rather than what it actually was.

Hakoda smiled. He stood and went back to the coffee pot, but this time poured some into a travel mug. He placed it before Zuko. "For your uncle," he explained. "I… figured he could probably use a cup, and the stuff the serve at the hospital is terrible."

Zuko wrapped his hands around it uncertainly. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it." He stood, realizing he'd left his uncle alone long enough by now.

Hakoda walked him to the door and stopped. "Well, Zuko, if you'd like to see Katara again… I wouldn't mind."

"I… thanks…" he uttered, slightly bewildered. He was pretty sure that 'chats in the kitchen' didn't usually end this way, but he wasn't about to complain. Zuko then moved swiftly for the open door to ensure that things ended on this positive note.

"Of course," Hakoda added in a tone that stopped Zuko mid-step, "That said, if you keep her out all night again, there won't be enough of you left to fill a Ziploc sandwich bag."

Zuko opened his mouth to retort, but thought better of it. He nodded again and rushed off to his abandoned Honda Civic.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was Sunday and Katara felt stupid. People didn't just drop by out of the blue these days; they called first, gave some sort of warning; at least a chance for him to skip town or develop a convincing hair-washing excuse. For all she knew, they were out… planning things for a funeral no doubt. But no, she was convinced that what she needed to say must be said in person. Katara growled in frustration, mostly at herself and her cowardly behavior. Originally, she'd intended to catch Zuko in his shift at the teashop, but it was closed today and though no notice or reason was posted, she was fairly sure she knew why. It felt like trespassing, walking up the metal stairwell in the alleyway beside the Jasmine Dragon and up to the apartment shared by Zuko and his Uncle, but she willed herself up the steps despite this.

Taking a deep breath, she clenched her eyes shut and pressed the doorbell.

For a moment, nothing happened. Katara cracked an eye open. No explosions, no angry, leering, scarred faces –so far, so good. Time, though, seemed to drag as Katara stared at the closed door, allowing anxiety to pool thickly in her gut. She was on the verge of giving up and turning heel, when, finally, the door opened.

Zuko had an inscrutable look on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Katara beat him to the punch.

"Hi," she said breathlessly, the words quickly, almost unintelligibly spilling from her lips. "I know I probably should have called before coming over, but I really wanted to talk to you in person and I thought I'd be able to catch you while you were at work, but the shop's closed… so I came up here to see if I could catch you at home. –And, you know what? You're probably really busy and don't want to deal with me right now, so I'll just leave and talk to you some other time." With that, she pivoted, red-faced, with the intent of racing down the steps and hiding beneath the nearest rock to ride out the next decade.

"Wait!" Zuko stepped out on to the front landing and gently grabbed her arm. "Wait," he said again, softly. "I can talk. Come inside for a second, I'll just grab the key and we can go down to the shop."

Katara bit her lip, but nodded and followed him inside. She waited in the small entry way as Zuko disappeared down the hall. She took a deep breath and gave herself a chance to observe her surroundings. After all, she knew so little about Zuko's home life, and this was a golden opportunity. Though the apartment didn't look particularly shabby from the outside, the exterior did little justice to the interior. It looked like a stately older gentleman's bachelor pad, a wealthy one at that. The living room, though modestly sized, was decorated in rich, warm browns and reds; a butter-soft looking leather recliner and a thick, cozy couch sat beside each other before a dark, cherry wood armoire, and a large, round oriental rug matched to the dark red drapes finished off the look. The entire open living space bled into a small dining room and kitchen, a dark wood floor unifying the layout. The kitchen was very nice, and almost seemed transplanted from a design catalog with its dark cabinets (matched to the armoire), granite counters, and stainless steel appliances. It didn't make sense. How could Zuko live here, and still drive that poor excuse of rust on wheels? How could they afford that kind of finery from a tea shop, no matter how successful? She didn't have much time to ponder the other inconsistencies between Zuko's projected self and his surprisingly ritzy home because he returned almost instantly with a ring of keys in hand.

He held them up, causing them to clink together and call Katara's attention. "Okay, let's go down."

The closed tea shop was bathed in ominous shadows from the afternoon sunlight. It looked silent and grave, all the chairs stacked on top of the tables and the only light coming from the slight glow of the cash register. Zuko unlocked the door and strode purposefully behind the counter where he flipped a switch and bathed the shop in its usual, cheery light.

He leaned over the counter, and Katara got the funny image of him as a disaffected punk-rock soda jerk. "Can I get you anything to drink? On the house?"

"Sure," Katara smiled weakly. "A plain green tea would be great."

He nodded and got to work, pouring the hot water into a cup. He handed it to her, with the tea packet separate. He shrugged, "Uncle says I have the touch of death when it comes to tea; it's better if you take care of the steeping yourself."

Katara grinned at him, acknowledging somewhere deep inside that he was adorable when he was all embarrassed like that. But then she remembered why she was there: to convince him that she wasn't a heartless bitch. She took her time steeping her tea bag into the water, giving herself a moment to gather her thoughts and her bearing. "The reason I came here was to apologize," she admitted at last, turning to him.

Zuko looked confused. "You already apologized."

Katara shook her head with a determined air. "Zuko, what I did was unacceptable and deserves more than a simple 'sorry'. I- I can't even believe I… I was just so angry that I wasn't thinking straight and-"

"Katara, I promise, it's alright." As he said this, Zuko looked sincere, but weary. "You were forced to date my because of your brother, and in some roundabout way, my Uncle. I'd be angry too. Hell, I was angry because I was also forced into the situation. The way things happened was… unfortunate, but nothing we can change. It's okay."

At that moment, the little bell on the tea shop's door tinkled. The duo's heads shot up instantly.

"We're closed," Zuko all but growled when he saw who stood there.

There was no mistaking the self-satisfied smile on the guy's face; he was the douchebag that made Katara cry. "You're here; Katara's here. Where's your sense of hospitality? Besides, I'm not interested in your shitty tea." He turned his focus to the perturbed girl, "Kat, I want to talk to you, I've been trying to get a hold of you all weekend, but I guess you kept missing my calls. Really, it was lucky I ran into you here -fate maybe!"

"Right Jet," Katara's knuckles went white with strain around her tea cup, "Fate. And it was just a coincidence that I never happened to be around my cell for any of your fifty-some phone calls." She rolled her eyes. "Get a life and leave mine alone."

"Baby," Jet condescendingly crooned, "You don't know what you're talking about! I thought we really reconnected on Friday! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"How about I reconnect my fist with your face?" Zuko demanded, positioning himself between the two. He pointed at the door. "We're closed."

Jet reared his shoulders back and stood eye to eye with Zuko. "You want to dance, Scarface? Step. Off. This is none of your goddamn business."

Suddenly, something clicked in Zuko's mind, and there was no way he was going to let himself be intimidated by the punk. "This is my shop, my territory." He folded his arms and smirked –attempting to do his best impression of his little sister-, "I wonder how it would go over on your record if you were accused of breaking and entering? I hear they aren't too lenient on repeat offenders."

It had the desired effect; Jet immediately backed off. But he wasn't through. "Right, this is rich. Well," he glanced at Katara, "last chance Babe, leave with me or stay with the Cyclops."

"As if there was any question," Katara spat as she moved beside Zuko. "Jesus Jet, just take a hint. No one wants you here. So get your smarmy little cheating man-whore of a self out of here! Now!"

"Huh," Jet smiled, "I guess I've worn out my welcome." Be bowed his head in recognize defeat. "Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, because I can't promise Monday will be very pleasant for either of you." With that, he left the shop, whistling a happy tune.

They sat in silence, just staring at Jet as he walked out of view.

Katara turned to Zuko. "What do you think he meant by that?"

Zuko continued to glare at the door. "Hell if I know. He's dumb as a rock though, so I wouldn't be too worried. I can't believe he came back here."

Katara looked up curiously at Zuko. "Did… did you know Jet or something?"

"Hm?" He glanced down at Katara. "Not really. But let's just say he's fucking lucky I was too distracted Friday night to recognize him." He sat down at the adjacent chair; his face was dark and pensive. But then he switched gears and chuckled. "How'd you get tangled up with Mr. Perfect?"

Katara hung her head in shame. "I met him freshman year. I was… he…" She sighed dramatically and gave Zuko a beseeching look, "This doesn't live this conversation, alright?"

Zuko nodded.

"He was my first boyfriend. I was head over ass, batshit crazy about him," she groaned into her hands. "I was mostly just in awe that he noticed me in the first place. Sokka hated him of course, and was always bad-talking him to dad, so I had to keep everything tight under wraps- I don't know how, but it didn't even get around school about us, at least no more than idle speculation."

"Impressive," Zuko commented genuinely.

Katara cracked a small smile. "Yeah, well- I didn't have much of anyone to talk to about it, so that helped. My only real friends were Sokka and Aang." At this, she gave Zuko a pointed look. "And I'm sure you know all about Aang."

Zuko coughed and looked away.

"Anyway," Katara had a real smile on her face this time. "Without getting into specifics, let's just say that Jet did something to me, which forced me to give him the proper motivation to avoid me like a plague rat for two and a half glorious years." She cracked her knuckles. "And if I'm forced to remind him why he should keep his distance, so be it."

Zuko grinned. "Remind me to stay on your good side."

Katara quirked an eyebrow, "Don't worry Zuko, I think the worst has passed. I've already decided to retract my claws… But so, I've spilled my history with Jet-" –"Sort of," Zuko interjected to deaf ears.- "Now it's your turn."

Zuko leaned back in his chair and thoughtfully stared at the ceiling. "I guess it wasn't long after I moved here with Uncle. February, I think. Anyway, I was... I tended to stay out late a lot back then. One night when I got home, it was probably nearly midnight, I walked in to find my Uncle with some kid in a choke hold. He just looked at me when I walked in and, calm as anything, said 'Oh, there you are Zuko, perfect timing! Would you be so good as to phone the police?' Anyway, the kid turned out to be Jet, who broke into the wrong elderly man's apartment. He got thrown in juvie, and if I had to guess, I think he's still working off his community service sentence."

Katara was torn between gasping in shock or laughing until she peed. "Your Uncle-?"

"Yeah," Zuko grinned wistfully. "He pretty much handed Jet's ass to him. If there's one thing you never want to do, it's to get on Uncle Iroh's bad side."

"That's fantastic! I always knew I liked him for a reason! -But, how did he... I mean," she struggled for the right words. "I mean, sure, he's not exactly Sokka when it comes to fighting ability, but Jet-"

"Uncle was a military man," Zuko interrupted. "He was actually a General back in the day. He was dead scary back then, from what I've been told, and he still can be when the circumstances are right." He grew thoughtful, and after a moment, continued, "…He retired when Lu Ten came up MIA. It changed him a lot, especially since everyone assumed my cousin was dead. I mean, when they found him and he came back, it was like a miracle- but it had been two years and he was barely human anymore. Then his health just kept getting worse and worse. He fell into the comma about a year ago… and he was stable for most of it, but the other night… I guess Uncle got an urgent call from the hospital. I mean, you were there- Lu Ten, his vitals just took this major dive and… anyway, I have a feeling it will be like losing him all over again to Uncle." Zuko was staring intently at the tabletop when he finished, nearly flinched away when Katara's hand found his.

He studied their hands for a moment before looking up at the girl herself.

She smiled at him warmly and gave his hand a squeeze. "Your Uncle's lucky to have you."

Zuko shook his head and pulled his hand away to run it through his hair, "No, I think you've got that backwards."

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Another Note from the Author:
Okay, so... I really hope this chapter was worth the wait. Please keep in mind that, while I am a competent, well-studied girl, even I am prone to slight imperfections. If you notice any errors, see points that could be improved, or think you could have fished a better chapter out of your toilet, please let me know and I will do my best to fix the situation. I am constantly going back and reworking previous chapters, and this one will be no exception. I do truly value well-thought constructive criticism. (Consider this my pathetic groveling for reviews.)

On that note... the description of Zuko's apartment: too much? I mean, it was meant to be significant enough for Katara to notice, but was it too detailed? Because, you may have noticed that I'm pretty simplistic when it comes to my settings (trying to improve on this...). Also, I feel like my perspective is all wonky... but that is too much of a daunting project at this point to go back and regulate, so we'll all just have to deal (yes, I know I'm only five chapters in, but it's over 20,000 words, cut me a break!).

The next chapter is going to be a little ridiculous. The content will be somewhat grave(ish), but if you consider what actually takes place in an objective view, it's pretty damn hilarious. I think anyway. You will have to judge for yourself, however... whenever it gets finished.

Thanks for your patience! I hope I didn't drive too many of you away in my absence!

Peace,

-Doily-