Zuko, despite drawing his power and very life force from the solar star, didn't want the sun to rise.

When its first rays invaded the dingy motel room through the gauzy curtains of its dusty window, Zuko's eyes cracked open, his fire sparking to life with the dawn. He breathed in through his nose and was almost unsettled by the foreign smell of sea salt and vanilla clouding his senses. Katara lay on her stomach in front of him, neck craned to face away. All he could see was miles of tangled, dark brown hair. His arm was comfortably wound around her waist, hand pressed to her stomach. He was so unused to being in such close contact with another person that he was caught between wanting to stumble out of that bed as fast as possible and nestling closer to drown in the feeling. The idea of someone trusting him enough to fall asleep next to him was an undeniable heat curling in his stomach, new and more consuming than his own flames.

Katara's slender fingers fisted the sheets and Zuko held his breath, going still as he expected her to awaken, to scramble away from him, as would be expected given their less than tentative truce. But her breathing remained even.

He should get up, anyway, he thought. Start making preparations for the journey, check on Appa, maybe even figure out breakfast. But he didn't move. Didn't dare. He knew that as soon as he set foot outside of this moment, this night, it would be gone forever and replaced with the awkwardness spotlighted by the light of day.

Zuko decided to allow himself just a fraction of indulgence and he slid his eyes shut once more. Even if he couldn't fall back asleep, he would pretend with her for as long as he could. For as long as she would let him, he would be just a boy, with just a girl, in just a motel room, far away from any war.

Zuko woke to find Katara packing. He couldn't believe he hadn't felt her wake up, he was typically a feather-light sleeper. He realised just then that he had been sleeping on his unscarred cheek. He always slept on his scarred side so as to better keep an ear out for danger. He didn't even want to think about what this change of habit meant.

He sat up and stretched his bare arms, taking a deep breath and letting the bright beams of sun dance on his skin. He could swear he could feel the water tribe girl staring at him, but when he glanced over, she was busily folding clothes.

Yep. The awkward had indeed set in.

"Good morning," she said, voice horse with sleep and cheeks flushed. She looked tired, he noticed. Maybe their night together hadn't been enough to allow her a decent sleep.

"Morning."

Zuko felt his usual cold disposition set in like a protective cloak without even realising it. A coping mechanism rearing its head to step in rather than to allow him to open himself up even a fraction. It killed him. He didn't know how to be anything else.

Katara's shoulders tensed, but she continued to busy herself. She had already dressed and was in the process of bending the water from the rest of their gear.

"Let's get going once I'm finished with this."

"I'll go find some breakfast," Zuko pulled on a fresh set of clothes, a simple maroon tunic lined with gold stitching and matching trousers. He suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe in this room that felt so much smaller than it had hours ago.

Zuko had one shoe on when Katara suddenly whipped around to face him, abandoning her task, "what gives?"

He stared at her wordlessly, tongue tied and despicably, pathetically helpless.

"What?"

"Are you serious, Zuko? Are we back to acting like we were before, like we didn't... you know," she gestured to the bed. Zuko couldn't keep from going red.

"I know, I... I just don't know how to do this," he admitted, voice too soft. Katara watched him expectantly. Why was she asking so much of him right now?

"I've never... and you... I don't want to, uh, distract you from the mission. There are more important things we need to focus on," Zuko could barely hear himself anymore, he was fully on auto pilot. He resented her making him so uncomfortable.

"Right. The mission. Which we should really get back to." Katara turned away and shoved disheveled items in her sack with fervour.

He couldn't think of anything to say to recover from his error, so he walked out the door.

An hour later, tucked in Appa's saddle with Katara holding the reigns this time, it felt like they were right where they had started yesterday. Zuko felt like a complete, hopeless idiot. His move to traverse to the good side had been a constant uphill battle, and how stupid of him was it to complicate his place with the Avatar's group by getting his feelings involved. Feelings that he was not equipped to face. Being with Katara, really being with her, meant throwing the whole group off balance. Not to mention, opening himself up to a culture that was entirely opposite to the only way of life he'd ever known. He hadn't let himself dwell on this dream for long, but he longed to take the fire nation throne for himself as Fire Lord after his father falls. He wanted to make real positive change and reverse the damage his family had done to the world, restore his family's honour. Were this impossible dream to become a reality, he would have to leave Katara and the rest of his friends behind to return home. There was no world where the first Fire Lord after the 100 year war could take a water tribe bride. She would be required to foster heirs... maybe water benders, as well. Zuko blushed at the thought of siring an heir with the fierce woman in front of him.

Had she considered any of this?

He wanted her more than the throne, that was what frightened him. Maybe they really should chalk last night up to an error in judgement and move on. Both of their roles in bringing peace to the world after this war were too different and too important.

Zuko resolved himself to helping his friend find her mother's slayer. Whatever it takes.