A/N: This is the smut chapter! As such, the rating has gone up to M, and will stay that way for the next few chapters because of violence. I've updated Chapter 6, so if you haven't read that, please do. I intended this to be fluff, but two lines happened, and then I couldn't help it. I went there.

Back at the inn, Zuko couldn't even look at Gen, standing at the front desk. The world around him was muted, and he tried to think about happy things, like seeing his friends and finally getting to sleep in his own bed once things were over. He probably had a week's worth of Sokka's letters to read, which was always enjoyable. He'd also have a week's worth of custard to eat when he got back, too, though he was sure Hau would have something to say about that. Less custard, more actual food, Hau always said.

He was standing in front of their door, his hand on the doorknob, and his forehead resting against the wood, when Katara put her hand on his shoulder.

"I don't have the key," he explained.

She unlocked and pushed open the door, and Zuko promptly threw himself face first onto the bed. The door clicked closed behind them.

"We took on an entire army of firebenders during Sozin's Comet, Zuko. Don't tell me you've gotten soft in your old age."

"It's not just the prospect of impending doom that gets me down," Zuko said, his voice muffled by the pillow. "It's thinking about what they could have done to her. And what they plan on doing to that poor woman. It's not right that she should suffer so much for me. I should have… Ozai, that bastard…his own wife!"

The bed shifted with Katara's weight, then she was sitting on him, running her hands over his back, before kneading the muscles. He tried to relax into her touch, imagining the way her face would be a perfect picture of concern. He could roll over and look, but this would occupy his mind. Her touch was reassuring, and he was glad she didn't keep up an endless stream of chatter. That's one of the things he loved about Katara—she understood when he needed quiet, and when he needed distraction. Her rhythmic rubbing gave him something to focus on; the steady motion of her hands from the small of his back to his shoulders, kneading in a circle with her thumbs, back down again to the small of his back, her fingers brushing his sides. Constant. Repeated.

"Is it best that I don't ask what they're capable of?"

"If we get caught, they're not ransoming me. I won't leave there alive. You…" Zuko fought back the nausea. "They might ransom you, but not before breaking you… Not before… They'd make me… Your father, Hakoda they would…"

She stopped moving, her hands stationary on his shoulders. He turned his face to the side so he could take in a deep breath, and from the corner of his eye, he could see Katara was thinking. He'd seen her look that way when they went to the market and she was weighing the value of a deal. He'd never met anyone who could bargain quite like she could, but then that was probably because she'd had the practice, trying to buy food for a bunch of hungry teenagers. He smiled briefly at the memory, and she started moving her hands again.

"Maybe we're thinking about it wrong," she said, leaning down to kiss his cheek. "We didn't feel this hopeless before the final battle because we had a plan. We knew what we were supposed to do, and we were soldiers. We didn't think about anything else."

"Politics has made us soft. It's all desk work, now. If I have to look at the royal ledger one more time, I think my head's going to explode. And I'm pretty sure we were thinking about something else."

He watched her face transform as she smiled softly. All the worry went away and she looked young and carefree as she traced a wrinkle on the back of his shirt. She blushed. "Don't be dirty, Zoozie." She bit her lip.

Zuko didn't have the heart to tell her he was referring to Sokka's list of all the things he'd never get to do if he died, or Toph bending a massive sculpture of herself at the beach house on Ember Island that she hoped would stand the test of time and be a monument to her greatness. He didn't have the heart to tell her that he'd dreamed about eating his favorite dessert for the last time, and when he woke up the morning of the comet, that was his greatest regret—that he wouldn't have any more custard. He let her live that last moment they had, where they sat under the stars, far from the White Lotus camp, and spilled their guts to each other. He could still remember the way her lips had felt impossibly soft against his, how gentle they'd been with each other, how it never even occurred to them to take their clothes off, how they just sat, holding and caressing and kissing and whispering stupid things that had no real gravity.

"Thinking about tomorrow, it makes me feel less…I don't know, useless isn't quite the word." She started moving her hands in the rhythmic circle again, and Zuko felt like he was melting into the bed. "What we've been doing has been really important, but it's hard to see the changes sometimes. So much of what we're doing is trying to get people to play nice, but now everyone's just looking out for themselves. Everyone's still so cautious. Spirits, it sounds like I want war again."

"It's not unreasonable. Between Arnook and the North isolating themselves and Ba Sing Se struggling to control riots and make Kuei an actual king…" He shrugged. "When you win a fight, you know it. With these treaties, you're not always sure what's going on."

"Part of me still enjoys being a warrior."

Zuko couldn't help it. He just started laughing, a manic mix of amusement, hopelessness, pessimism, and despair, and his whole body shook. When Katara stopped massaging him, he rolled over so that he could see her, and grabbed her waist when she tried to get up. She crossed her arms and glared at him, her mouth a tight line that made him want to kiss it until she opened up again, until she smiled and her light drove the darkness from his mind.

"Right," she said. "Because the idea of me being a warrior is so damn funny."

He swallowed the next round of laughter and looked her in the eyes, trying to muster as much non-laughing sincerity as he could. She only narrowed her eyes further, and he gave her his best apologetic smile.

"You are without a doubt, the only person I would want by my side when I have to do this. I wouldn't take Uncle, I wouldn't take Toph, I wouldn't take Aang in full Avatar State, no matter how much sense it would make, and I may be stupid for not telling them about this, but it's not their burden." He rubbed her thighs, still smiling at her. "It's mine. And yours because you're amazing and you made that decision, and I trust you with the darkest parts of myself."

"Flattery won't help."

Flattery always helped with Katara, because he could feel the muscles in her legs loosen a little, and she wasn't holding her mouth so tightly anymore. There was a spark in her eyes, the one she always got when they were sparring and she just knew she was going to win.

"You have to admit that it's kind of funny. I can't imagine you would have said anything like that even two years ago. I'm telling you all this horrible stuff, and freaking out about what they could have done to my mother, what they intend to do to this woman, what they could do to you, and it's like none of that even matters. It's just Katara and hopebending and positive outcomes-"

"I do not hopebend!" she said, hands flying to her hips. "Wipe that smile off your face right now."

Zuko tried hard, but it wasn't working. "I mean, you managed not to actually say hope this time, but it's still the same thing."

"Well, someone's got to think positive in this outfit, and it certainly isn't you."

"Which is why I need you," he said, lazily stroking her leg. He tried to look pathetic and needy, poking out his bottom lip, but the effect of these things varied greatly depending on Katara's mood.

He watched Katara fight a smile, but her resolve was breaking. Zuko figured he should help by shoving his hands up the sides of her shirt and running his hands over her sides, tickling her. She wiggled furiously, trying to get away from him, doing her best to stifle giggles that escaped nonetheless. Zuko loved it when they could be like this. If they were caught within one hundred yards of the capitol acting like silly teenagers, people would be calling for his head. He was the Fire Lord; there were taxes and treaties and reparations and the homeless and the needy to tend to, and the crown was practically bleeding money everywhere. They would say he had more important things to do. And he needed a wife, preferably one of their choosing, and an heir.

Here in this room, though, with no windows and only one door, they could do whatever they pleased, and they could enjoy themselves doing it. Katara was trying to swat at his hands, and her hair had come loose, and it was swinging around and sticking to the sweat that was still on her forehead. He decided that he wouldn't change a thing about her, even her nonsensical hopebending.

When he stopped, and she tried to get up, he pulled her back down against him, rolling his hips into her twice in just the way she loved. She took in a sharp breath, her hands immediately going to his on her hips. She was holding him tightly, and that hungry look crept into her eyes.

"If we're going to die tomorrow night, we might as well."

And Zuko had to go and ruin it. Katara stopped moving against him, and her nostrils flared. She raised her right fist, and Zuko didn't have enough time to register what she was about to do before the blow hit him in the chest and the pain came. He rolled to the side, cursing and clutching his chest as Katara got off the bed.

"I'm going to run a bath, asshole." She slammed the door behind her.

As Zuko pulled his knees under him, his face mashed into the pillow, he had to admit that she definitely didn't hit like a girl. He cursed Sokka and Toph for ever teaching Katara to throw a good punch, even if he did deserve it.

Sliding off the bed, Zuko decided he should see just how mad she was at him. He knocked on the bathroom door, but there was no answer other than the water rushing into the tub. Carefully—because he'd learned the hard way by barging in on an angry waterbender near a tub full of water—he opened the door and peeked in. She was sitting on the edge of the tub in her underwear, her legs and arms crossed.

He raised his eyebrow at the underwear she had. It was a far cry from what she'd worn during the war, and even different from the few times he'd seen her in her underwear since. With her legs crossed, he almost couldn't tell she had on any bottoms, except for the black fabric hugging her hips. Did she get new underwear just for their secret mission? It probably wasn't the best time to ask her, since she still looked pretty mad. The top kept her breasts firmly against her body, and it covered as much as possible, which, Zuko decided, was a terrible shame.

When he finally looked at her face, he saw she was giving him a very stern, disapproving look, which only made him smile, which only made her switch to the Wait Until We Get Home look she gave Aang when he got out of hand at the market. Which, of course, made him smile even more.

Zuko knelt in front of her and bowed low, his forehead touching the tile. "I beg your forgiveness, Master Waterbender Katara, greatest and most heavenly beautiful warrior to have ever walked this earth, for my transgressions against you." He looked up at her, but she still had her arms crossed. "I promise to repay you exactly one favor, at the time of your choosing, with the understanding that this favor will not involve hurting others, forgoing my duties as Fire Lord at any time of the day or night, giving in to some ridiculous schedule you decide I should have, abdicating my throne and naming you Supreme Leader of the Fire Nation, or giving up my dessert, unless by "giving up," you mean slathering it on you."

Zuko waited, and when Katara still didn't do anything, he kissed her knee. She only turned her nose up, so Zuko leaned further up, kissing the inside of her thigh. She tensed, but she still refused to look at him. Zuko smiled, and did something he knew she couldn't resist. He licked from her knee, up her thigh, right until his face was buried in her crotch, her hand was gripping his hair, and she was panting. He sucked on her thigh and her hand trembled in his hair. Zuko brought his hands up on either side of her, resting against the tub. Again, he licked, then sucked. She moaned. He bit.

"Really, Kitten, all you had to do was ask."

"We should really take that bath, now," Katara said, breathless.

"You'll have to let go of my hair."

"Oh. Right. Of course." Slowly, she did so, smoothing down his hair where she messed it up, and Zuko started undressing. She was watching him, her eyes roaming over his chest, and following his hands as they loosened his pants before he pulled them off.

"My eyes are up here," he said. He smiled when Katara started blushing. She turned her back to him and finished undressing. They both got in the tub.

The steam was comforting, and Zuko leaned back, halfway closing his eyes. He watched Katara focus on making little whirlpools in the water in front of her. She did have a point about the final battle. Having a plan made all the difference; they weren't just going in with the vague idea of taking down Ozai and defeating Azula. They'd been organized, and everyone had a job. Whether they would be fighting in the capitol where Ozai was being crowned Phoenix King and Azula designated Fire Lord, or down at the docks taking down the airship fleet before the two legs of the army met up, or taking the battle to Ba Sing Se to liberate it, everyone had a role, and knew what needed to be done to fulfill that role.

And politics did have a way of making you feel useless and powerless. After his first few council meetings, Zuko finally understood why Iroh was constantly pushing him to play pai sho, and he realized that Iroh had never given up hope of Zuko taking the throne. So much that Iroh had taught him during his years at sea directly related to what was going on politically in the Fire Nation. It was political maneuvering, and it was a completely different battle that often made Zuko feel inadequate when he realized, sometimes days later, he'd just been cheated in a deal. Battle with his bending and his swords was his strength. It was skill and strategy; it was manageable. There was some measure of knowability about battle, because he could always count on his physical strength, no matter what the circumstances were.

"You know," he said aloud, "I'm a little excited, too."

"Really?" Katara asked, lowering her voice, biting her lip, and touching herself. "I can help with that."

Zuko opened his eyes fully and regarded her with curiosity and amusement. And, admittedly, excitement of a different sort. "I was talking about the battle. You know, the one tomorrow night where we're infiltrating a prison guarded by Ozai's elite and most dangerous team, where we'll likely suffer serious injury?"

Katara blushed and sunk into the water.

"Bed get a little lonely sometimes?"

"It's not like Aang…you know, he's only fifteen. He was raised by monks for Yue's sake, you know purity of body and mind and all that. He's been trying so hard to hold onto the ways of his people and… He wasn't ready, and he made that very clear. I respected his wish, and found a quiet corner of the house, though I didn't tell him about that."

Zuko tried to picture what happened between Aang and Katara, and just what Aang said to make it clear. He imagined that maybe Katara tried to set up a romantic date that led back to a bedroom. Or maybe she kissed him and started to grope, because she liked to do that. It wasn't hard to imagine how horrified and scared and confused Aang might have been.

For some reason, everyone had decided Zuko should be the one to have The Talk with Aang, and this without Zuko's input. He'd tried very hard to be as business-like an informative about the whole thing as possible, even though it was still awkward because they were both likely thinking about the same girl with varying degrees of detail in their minds. Aang hadn't been as naïve as everyone expected him to be, but he'd still been uncomfortable talking about it. Katara probably wouldn't tell him what happened if he asked.

"I remember what I was thinking about at fifteen," he said instead.

"Yeah, finding Aang."

"Oh, come on!"

"You were the single, most stubborn, oddly focused—"

"Fuck you."

"Please."

They looked at each other from across the tub, then started laughing.

"I'm telling you, something's got to be wrong with us that this is the conversation we're having," Zuko said.

"Inara and Atem had it right. We are crazy."

They were silent a minute.

"Zuko? I'm serious." She was stalking toward him, predator like. Like Sokka toward a steaming bowl of Gran's stew. Zuko was meat, and she was going to devour him.

Smirking, Zuko got out of the tub, wrapping a towel around his waist and steaming himself dry. Katara let out some odd, frustrated noise, and no sooner had he sat down on the bed, than she came storming out of the bathroom, stark naked, bending the water off her body. He was about to get up, but she roughly shoved him down and straddled him.

"Zuko? I'm serious."

Before he could say anything else, she unwrapped the towel and started stroking him firmly, rubbing her thumb over the head of his quickly hardening length. She smiled as she leaned down to kiss him, and he guided them further back on the bed, the towel dropping forgotten to the floor. He moaned when she picked up the pace.

"I'm going to hazard a guess that Lady Ama wasn't as forthcoming as she could have been."

She was smiling smugly, and Zuko brought her down for another kiss, just to wipe that stupid grin off her face. He ran his tongue over her lips and she parted for him, and he dipped his tongue into her mouth, but Katara fought back. She was stroking him faster, taking control, but Zuko was determined not to let her.

He ran his hand up the inside of her thigh, and she shuddered into the kiss until he stroked her, felt her wetness, and dipped a finger inside her. She broke the kiss, bringing her hips down on his finger, willing him to go further inside. Zuko took the moment to flip her, and when she tried to fight back, he slipped down to the edge of the bed, hooking her legs over his shoulders as he crouched down. He repeated what he'd done earlier, licking from the inside of her knee all the way up her leg, stopping just short of the place she wanted him to be the most. He kissed and sucked and she panted and grabbed his hair, trying to direct him. He didn't bother to swat her away.

He ran his tongue in little circles up and down both sides of her thighs until she was quivering and begging him, her voice hoarse with passion. When it was nothing more than a repeated whisper, he licked long and slow right down her center, curling his tongue when it hit that bundle of nerves that turned her into jelly. She arched her back so that only her hips and her head were touching the bed, and he took that as his cue to suckle, using his fingers to stroke and pump, licking up every last drop that spilled from her, savoring it because it was her.

She was clenching around his fingers, and he brought her to her first orgasm, placing little kisses along her thighs and her hips and her stomach, trailing up to the valley between her breasts until he was laying beside her, caressing her face. He loved the way she looked in her post-orgasm glow, pink tongue darting out to lick full lips, the way she sometimes caressed her own breasts as she rode the last of the wave. The way she would turn to him, hungry for more.

Before she could roll on him, he was on top of her, kissing her neck, her nails carving trails down his back. She arched into him, and when he bent down to take her nipple in his mouth, she was still slick, rubbing against him, and he shuddered. Katara rolled him over, and before he could fight back, she had him in her hand again, stroking slowly, her lip caught between her teeth.

"I'm not the only one who needed this," she said as he gasped and his hips bucked.

She guided him into her, never breaking eye contact, and Zuko never wanted anything more. Their chests heaved together, they breathed together, he could even swear their hearts were beating together, but she didn't move, just sat, breathing, looking at him. He didn't even care, just grabbed the most perfect ass the spirits could ever conceive, and held her there.

"I love you," she said, and he knew she was going to say it. "I love you, and I want to do this for the rest of my life, and I don't want to hide anymore."

"I love you, too." It was the only thing that made sense in his mind. To love her and to let her love him. To stop fighting it, and to give in. To feel like this for the rest of his days. To let her share not only his pain, but his happiness.

Something he couldn't name passed between them, and she started moving, and they intertwined their hands, and this time was so much better than all the rest. He could feel her in places he hadn't felt her before, in places he hadn't known he had. He was afraid he'd crush her perfect fingers, so he moved his hands back to her perfect ass and he pushed and pulled, and she rode him like the tide.

Zuko had the odd sensation that he was falling up, and he clung to her harder, and when she bent down to kiss him, he wondered if she could taste the ashes on his tongue. They were all hands, touching, groping, caressing, pulling closer, never pushing apart, and when his own release coming, she bent her hands and pulled the blood back and away, his peak receding.

"No," she said, "don't let it be over yet."

So he flipped her on her back and slammed into her, and she screamed, ripping her nails down his back, pulling his hair so hard it was painful, using her legs to keep him from going too far back, and it wasn't long before he could feel his release coming again. She was moaning and he was moaning, and he didn't even have to ask her to bite him, because her teeth were on his collarbone, biting hard, and he growled low in his chest.

He had to let her back on top, even if he did prefer to top. He was already breathing steam.

"Give me your fire," she commanded, tracing the path from his lower stomach to his neck, caressing his cheeks, both scarred and unscarred. The heat built as the pressure built, and he wanted to cry because this is the way it was supposed to be, and he'd hate all the world if he never had this chance again.

They came together, Katara letting out a loud moan and throwing her head back so the tips of her hair tickled his thighs as he shot a bright gust of blue fire straight into the air, breathing smaller puffs after it. He watched her in the remnants of the blue firelight, the way she glistened, the way she was sent into shadow and relief as she moved her hands up and down his chest, then up and down her own.

There was nothing else to say after that, nothing left to do but to collapse against each other and sleep.

"Mom will love you," Zuko whispered as he closed his eyes.