.
Waiting
"You know, I really am sorry about your feet..." he spoke out, filling the momentary silence with words from a rather touchy topic. He dared the impossible task of meeting her gaze only to give up when her eyes remained fixed on searching the vast azure skies above them.
"Accidents happen, Sparky. Don't worry about it."
While his expression softened with the grin that spread across her rose-tinted lips, he was more than a little narked by the fact that she felt the need to use the nickname constantly. (He wouldn't admit that it was starting to grow on him, though.) His face, however, soon took the form of a grimace when her fist collided with his upper arm. Once again he had failed to notice her impending attack; he always suffered her abuse by getting distracted. And he could have sworn he heard a crack this time.
Rubbing his new wound gently, he risked another look at her. She was completely at ease; legs dangling over the edge of the cliff, head facing the sky as she leaned back, palms resting firmly against the earth to fulfil the role of her feet. She wore a bored expression, though the loose hair from her bun hung over her eyes, long and untameable, in such a way that made it difficult to tell for sure. He had caught himself, on occasion, wanting to free it from its prison and watch it tumble gracefully down her shoulders, her back, so long and so soft. He'd love to run his fingers through it...
He was still watching her in adoration when her milky green eyes locked onto his of tarnished gold. Finding himself arbitrarily transfixed by her sudden susceptibility, it was rather a challenge to hide the blush that spread across his cheeks like wildfire. But just as a book snapped shut, her orbs glossed over with that ever-familiar essence of knowing. His pulse quickened, much to his embarrassment, and he had the sudden urge to run back to the Fire Nation.
Then he saw her lips curve again and he had the sudden feeling that she was teasing him.
Go on then.
.