A/N: Can you believe there's only one day left? Where does the time go?

The kids were quiet today. Quieter than usual, and while the sitter couldn't imagine why when they spent the entire day touring the city and visiting the city's best parks and museums and in general working up a ton of childish energy, they might even be too tired to hear a story.

It was odd, how much she'd come to look forward to their nightly sessions, when just three days ago, she was all but dreading them. The only reason she could think of was the children themselves. They weren't like other people. They didn't expect anything of her that she might not be in a position to give. Her family, her teachers, even her friends could be like that, whether they meant to be or not. With these kids, all she had to do was play dolls, show them a neat little bending trick, and tell them a story before bed each night. That was all they wanted, a friend and a playmate, and if she gave them that, they were satisfied. There was something cleansing about that, though what it was, she couldn't say.

It was a lot of existentialism to process when one was carrying a pile of stuffed animals back to the play pen where they belonged. She collected the girl's art projects for the day to be hung on the walls tomorrow, and dropped the boy's model swords into toy box. Silence reigned as she worked, making her think she really would be going back to her room early tonight. She found both children with their eyes open and staring when she got back, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Let me guess, I pick the story tonight."

The girl rubbed her eyes and nodded, and the boy just sat himself up and rested his head on his drawn up knees, watching her closely.

Flopping down on her seat, the sitter thought about what tonight's story would be about. She thought she might try making up something on her own this time, though it wasn't bound to be as exciting as a trip to the moon or a duel to the death. It would be nice, though, to have something that came from her, and only her.

"Okay… this is a story about Zuko and Katara, and..." a small smile tugged at her lips. "And they're just two crazy kids in love."

Katara fished around under her bed. The floor was ice cold beneath her hands and naked arms, but she worked through the pain until it ebbed away into nothing. She swept her arm around, unearthing old leggings and a shoe that might have fit her when she was ten, but nothing that resembled what she was looking for.

Movement outside her door reminded her that she was not home alone today. She should've been in the kitchen hours ago getting her study partner a drink, or showing him around the house, or actually studying like they were supposed to be doing. It was just her luck this would happen the day before a big test. Sometimes, she wondered why she was even still in school in the first place. She and Sokka could learn everything they needed from Gran-Gran, and everything else they would get from experience. Why did anyone need to sit in a room wasting hours of the day memorizing useless information when-

"Katara?"

Katara's head slammed on the bedframe, causing a moment of blindness, followed by a whirlwind of stars in her eyes. It was pure agony trying to crawl on her stomach out of there with Zuko watching her. It hardly mattered if he saw anymore. She had already embarrassed herself enough, hadn't she?

"Katara?"

He sounded much closer now. It worsened the pain deep inside for Katara to realize that he was crouching down, and that those warm hands on her arms were him helping her up and giving her his shoulder to lean on while the pain subsided. When that took too long, he led her to the small table and helped her sit.

"What were you doing under there?" he asked.

Katara wished he wouldn't. It was bad enough that he'd found her like that and that she'd proceeded to make a complete fool of herself when he did. Having to tell him the reason for it all would be nothing but a one-way ticket for her foot to her mouth. Some might say she was overreacting, but those people had clearly never embarrassed themselves in front of a friend they just so happened to have a huge crush on.

She mumbled a response that came out like single word in an alien language. Zuko blinked.

"What was that?"

Katara looked away. He was way too adorable when he was confused. It wasn't fair!

"I said I was looking for something." Her lips were still barely moving, but her words were intelligible now, and Zuko nodded.

"What were you looking for?"

Katara stared hard at the floor and kept her mouth tightly closed.

"Katara?"

A long pause followed.

"Katara?"

He just wouldn't stop until he broke her, would he?

"Is something wrong, Katara?"

"…lookinfermsoc…"

"I'm sorry?"

Katara met his eyes once more, and he still had that look on his face that always got to her. She sighed.

"I was looking for my sock."

There was a clock on the corner wall ticking the hours away, and it beat in Katara's ears as Zuko gave no reply, either joking or serious. The seconds snailed by. What she had thought would be a cringe-worthy experience turned out less so than Katara had thought. The longer they went without speaking, the more she came to think she really had been overthinking it. It wasn't that big of a deal, right? It was just a missing sock.

The Zuko laughed.

'Oh who am I kidding? I really messed up.'

Zuko got up, moving around the tiny table to the bed, where he crouched down.

'Oh no, he wouldn't…'

"What color sock is it?" he asked.

'He is.'

"You don't have to do that, Zuko." She started to stand, but then the back of her skull was still throbbing, forcing her back down.

"I don't mind," he answered, getting to his hands and knees and checking under the bed. "So what was the color again?"

Katara jolted upon realizing she hadn't answered his question.

"Uh… it's blue… all my socks are blue."

"I think all your everything is blue, Katara."

Katara glanced down at her blue jeans and periwinkle blouse, and knew she couldn't argue that point.

"You really don't have to, though," she said again.

He ignored that comment and went on with the search. Under her bed was nothing but dust bunnies, so he first felt under the mattress and then checked under the rug. Katara started many times to dissuade him, but the words would never come out. It might have been because his persistence was as sweet and appealing as the rest of him was, or it might have been because his search had him bending over to look inside nooks and crannies a lot.

When he finally stood tall with a loud 'a-ha,' holding her single sock like it was some great prize, Katara couldn't help but giggle.

"I told you I'd find it," Zuko said, handing the garment off to her.

Katara held it tight in her hand, forgetting that it wasn't the right color to be the one she was looking for, and embraced Zuko.

"Thanks for your help," she said, and she got up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek.

'The end.'

The sitter sat back, actually pretty proud of herself. It wasn't the greatest story ever told, not by a longshot, but it was short and sweet and to the point, and the kissing had been regulated to just the cheek, so the kids couldn't object too much.

She flicked her eyes to the boy, whose expectant gaze was slowly morphing into one of disbelief.

"Wait… that's it? That's the story?"

The sitter sat up straighter.

"Do you have a problem?"

The boy looked about ready to set her head on fire.

"Do I have a problem?" he repeated. "How about the fact that that was barely even a story? Socks? You made up a story about socks? Might as well have had Zuko and Katara watching paint dry or pulling up weeds. Why socks?"

"It was the first thing I could think of!" the sitter said defensively. "I'd like to see you come up with a better story."

"A spidermonkey could come up with a better story!"

"I liked it," the sister piped in. "I thought it was sweet."

"You would," said the brother, crossing his arms over his chest.

The sitter found herself following suit, but once she realized this, she dropped them and stood up.

"If it bothers you so much, I can try and make up another one."

"I never said I didn't appreciate your effort," said the boy. "I thought you could have tried harder, but it was nice of you to try at all instead of just copying another story and changing all the names like you've been doing. That's palgerism you know."

The sitter snorted. "I think you mean plagiarism, kid."

"Whatever."

He lay back down and allowed the sitter to pull the covers over him properly. Though he had no toy to hold, he wrapped his arms around a small pillow and turned on his side, eyes closed even though it was obvious that he was nowhere near sleeping.

"There's a storybook on the bookshelf. It's the big red one on the bottom shelf. Take it with you and study it. That's an order."

This kid had been hanging around his parent's banquets too much. His vocabulary may have been improving, but his attitude was going down the toilet. The sitter made a note to talk to his parents about that as she rubbed the top of his head and got the corners of his mouth to twitch ever so slightly. She smirked.

"Whatever you say, your highness."