Cute Casanova

Katara had enjoyed in the beginning of their relationship how edgy and fidgety Aang was around her, the way he'd twiddle his thumbs and try and discretely scoot closer to her; he never really got that stealth down. She also immensely liked the way he'd blush when their hands brushed against each other, or whenever she gave him the kiss on the forehead or cheek in goodnight.

The way that they could simply sit under a tree and talk and be able to find immense pleasure in that, it was amazing. When he reached to hold her hand under the table during the boring meetings, it kept the smile on her face.

But then it seemed like one day a switch had gone off in Aang's teenage mind or body.

Now he'd pull her into closets and up trees, holding their bodies so close she could feel their heartbeats intermingle and arms tangle. The way he'd cradle her head and pull at her hair in fervor when they'd kiss for minutes on end; he had Katara grabbing onto his shirt and skin tight enough to rip and scratch.

Aang now seemed to grab onto her hand any opportunity they had, rubbing his calloused palms over her softer ones. She liked the way it made her skin tingle, like she'd just covered them in newly fallen snow. And the way he'd run his thumb over her knuckles, it made Katara the blushing one when they went walking down hallways and streets.

It seemed that he was growing taller by the day too, his arms being able to circle her body and legs making him stretch closer to the sky he could so easily control. Katara began to feel grounded with him while he kept growing, kept going. She now found that after a short six months of being together, she had to begin looking across and then finally up to make eye contact.

And even though he was making her feel so fierce and passionate, she became scared. Where was that boy she'd freed from the iceberg going; the one who had asked her to go penguin sledding with the widest smile she'd ever seen?

But then an interesting thing happened. Aang became clumsy with his new height.

He would mis-gauge and mistake distance with his bigger feet and longer limbs; he would flatten on the ground with a humiliating laugh before he'd raise his scratched face.

And Katara had never found anything more adorable.

So even when he kept stealing her aside ("We're just gonna go waterbending Sokka; stop being such a worry-hog-monkey!") Katara knew that the boy she'd first known and befriended was still somewhere in there.

She began to really look at his actions, to assess every little thing he did (and try not to feel like a stalker while doing so) and she found she had worried over nothing.

His smile was still as goofy and shameless, not afraid to show both rows of teeth or his dimples. And the ways he would try and impress her, like showing her how he could stuff three - yes three! - moon peaches into his mouth without choking, weren't so ordinarily romantic, but still endearing none-the-less.

And the way his grey eyes glimmered and lit up every time she grinned at him - it made her feel invincible.