It's been over two weeks since I vomited and ruined the moment between Aang and me, and there is still tension between us—all coming from him.

He isn't laughing or smiling or talking like he normally does. He leaves the room almost every time I enter it, and when I try to speak to him, he gives me monosyllable grunts in response. I even tried to crawl into his bed one night, only to find his door locked. He's avoiding me and I have no idea what the hell is going on. All I know is that I don't like it.

So, I've been throwing myself into work. Haru has been hanging around more, and it's a happy distraction. When I'm with him, I forget about all the silence that's happening at home. We've gone out to the bar a few times, but never to get wasted like we did before. We just end up ordering a beer and talking for hours until the last call. But he's no Aang.

Sure, I can talk to Haru—but it's all surface-level. I don't tell him about my family my rocky relationship with Jet or even about my best friend. We talk about great foods, favorite bending activities, and sports. He does most of the talking. I think he knows that I'm not a talker—not with anyone who isn't Aang.

"Do you want to go out tonight?" Haru asks, walking into my office as my last patient of the day exits it. I bend away healing water from my hands and grab my bottle of seaweed lotion from the supply cabinet. The healing session was longer than usual, and my hands were crampy by the end of it.

"Yeah, sure," I reply as I moisturize my hands. I turn away from the cabinet and look at him; he's standing a few feet away from me, scratching his head nervously.

"I meant, like, on an actual date. Not the friends-having-drinks-at-the-bar thing we've been doing—a legitimate date. You dress up, I pay for food, you put out." He smirks at me to show that he's joking about that last part.

"I like you, Katara! And I know you are trying to get over 'him', but I still like you. And I think you might like me too."

I walk to my desk and begin to collect my things in silence. Should I go on a date with Haru? He's a good guy and Spirits, he's fine, but…Aang.

He's not Aang. And though he hasn't been speaking to me, it doesn't mean I've stopped loving him. I…Tui, I love him with everything I have. But Haru…is good too.

Yeah, there's no way I'm going to be able to figure this out right now.

"Can I think about it?" I ask, lifting my head to look at him. His crystal green eyes are staring at me intensely, and I feel a drop in my stomach. A good drop.

"Of course," he says without hesitation. He grins at me, the tension leaving the room. "I'll talk to you later?"

I nod my head and he exits, still smiling like a giddy kid.

-.-

When I get home, Aang is in the kitchen, making something that smells deliciously like dumplings and sweet buns. I change out of my work clothes and join him, walking cautiously to where he's standing on the kitchen island.

"Hi Aang," I whisper, nervously twirling the end of my braid around my forefinger. He looks up from his slab of dough, gives me a nod of recognition, then goes back to kneading.

"Was work good today?" I ask, and again, he nods in response.

And then, I just lose it.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?!"

I stomp towards him, and grab his face in my hands, forcing him to truly look at me for the first time in two weeks. His eyes, two gray orbs of meteorite are desperately sad as they penetrate mine—but I have no idea why.

"TALK TO ME!" I shout.

But still, he's silent. Fuck this. We're getting to the bottom of this now.

"I've had enough of this bullshit," I say as I start to unbutton his yellow shirt as fast as humanly possible. When I reach the last button at his collar, I throw it open and pull the garment down his arms.

"Aang, when you are silent, it's the most terrifying thing on this planet." I work on his sunset-colored trousers, popping open the button and unzipping them before I grab two of the belt loops on his hips and rip them down his legs until they rest at his ankles.

"You're scaring me. I'm freaking out."

I look up at his eyes, now filled with confusion and guilt, along with sadness. But still—no words leave his beautiful, plush pink lips. So, I pull off my clothes—shedding my shirt and blue skirt in a matter of seconds.

I flick off the light switch behind me, and step towards him, until my eyes rest on his collarbone, only a few inches from me. I lift his left arm and hold it to the middle of my back, then begin to run my right hand up and down his chest. "We're going back to that night two weeks ago," I whisper, looking up at his face; it's tilted down to me as he watches my hand caress his front.

I clench my teeth. "And if you don't spill, I swear to Agni, I will kill you."

My body is humming, being so close to him again after this absence and I want nothing more than to wind my hands around his neck and pull his lips to mine—kissing him until I come apart in his arms. But I can't. I raise my eyebrow at him, indicating it's about fucking time that he talks. He lets out a shaky breath, shaking his head.

So, I take one too. "Look, I know a lot has happened lately and it's put me in whiplash as well, but Aang, this is killing me. You can talk to me. You've always been able to talk to me. So, what's changed? What happened that night? Please, explain it to me."

His breathing falters. He's breaking down—so I go for the kill shot. I remove the left hand that I have holding his own on my back; he continues to keep his hand there and begins to trail it up and down like he did that night. I lift my hand and cup his face, skimming my thumb along the deep sleep circles under his eyes. "Always, Aang. Always."

I'm sitting on our couch, watching mindless TV, when Aang comes home, the cap that I crocheted for him wet with new snow. He sheds his jacket and snow boots before he joins me on the sofa, holding a bag of food from our favorite restaurant.

We dig almost immediately as he talks about his day; one of his students fainted during a group project presentation and he had to call an ambulance. We toss the boxes back and forth, sharing our noodles and main entrees and eggrolls.

We've developed a pattern since my mother passed away two months ago, just three months after we moved in together. Aang read somewhere that it was healthy to do that. We wake up, most days at different times, then we both go to work; and when we come home, Aang brings dinner or makes it for us. Then we watch TV or read together or sometimes we go out. A few nights a week, Jet joins us after dinner, but the rest of the time it's just the two of us. Just me and my best friend.

When dinner is over, I sprawl out on the couch, placing my head on Aang's lap. Jet is working late at his office tonight, so he won't be coming over. Aang's hand immediately moves to my forehead, brushing the curls away from my eyes. Since he stayed in bed with me those few nights after my mother died, I've felt safe in his arms; he just knows how to comfort me. And he's been especially attentive the closer it's gotten to her birthday—now only a week away.

Mom's birthday was such a good time for my brother Sokka and I. We'd spend days decorating the house, listening to her playing music from the stereo baking cookies, and eating dried caribou; the house was always filled with laughter.

I think that's what I miss the most: hearing her laugh. Aang changes the channel to the Animal Channel, and we watch together in silence as a herd of hog monkeys run around in circles in the native lands of the Patola mountains. But with my overstuffed stomach, and the soothing ministrations of his soft hands, I feel myself drifting off.

The annoying chirp of my cell phone startles me awake, but I can tell from my body that I haven't been sleeping for long; Aang's hand is still stroking my forehead. I dig into the pocket of my pants and pull out my phone before bringing the dumb thing to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Katara?" Sokka's voice is quiet and broken, and I immediately sit up.

Something's wrong.

"Sokka? What's going on?" I ask urgently, nervous adrenaline spiking my pulse. I feel Aang's hand on my back, but I don't turn to him. I need to figure out what's going on with my brother.

"Dad's gone," he whispers. And then he breaks down, his loud sobs practically bursting my eardrums.

I jump off the couch, run to the door, and begin to pull on my boots. "What do you mean he's gone? What happened?"

"Katara, I haven't been honest with you. Dad's been a wreck since the funeral. He hasn't left to hunt, completely forgone his duties to the village and I've had to force him to eat because he won't do it on his own. And when I got home from work, I found a note. He says he's not coming back for a long time."

What the hell?! Why didn't Sokka tell me this earlier? He's one year older than me, 22 years old—he shouldn't have to deal with this all on his own. I would have taken a semester off and gone home.

"I'm on my way home. Don't move a muscle; I'll be there as soon as I can," I say, pulling my jacket off the hook by the door.

"I love you. I'll see you soon."

"Love you, too."

I hang up and turn to see Aang double knotting his boots. He looks up at me before he slips on his jacket too. "Let me grab a bag and then we'll go," he says and sprints out of the room, and down the hall towards his.

He returns only minutes later with a bag thrown over his shoulder. "Let's go, Katara."

We ran out to his car and peeled out of our spot as fast as possible. I retell everything Sokka said to me, and I watch as Aang's hands grip the steering wheel tighter.

"I wish he would have said something. We could have found some counseling for your Dad, and we could have moved Sokka in with us." He removes one of his hands and rubs it on the back of his neck nervously. I love how he says "we." Spirits, I have the greatest best friend in the world.

We stay silent the rest of the drive, but with the snow, it takes us six hours to get to my childhood home. As soon as the car is put into park, I shoot out of it and run toward the house, with Aang close behind me. I throw open the small door and plow into the living room. Sokka and his girlfriend Suki are curled up on the couch. My older brother has tears streaming down his beautiful, brown face.

I jog towards him and immediately fold him into my arms. Suki gets up to give us room and I grab her hands in appreciation, smiling up at her. Sokka tucks his face into my neck and bawls, his nails digging into my thighs. I whisper words of reassurance to him, but I don't feel like anything I'm saying is true. I don't know if it will be alright. I don't know if Dad's coming home. I don't know if we will figure everything out.

It's a least half an hour later when Aang kneels on the carpet in front of the couch where we are sitting, two mugs full of tea in his hands. Sokka's tears have dried up for the most part and he turns to him and takes the cup he offers. Aang presses a quick peck to Sokka's forehead, and then hands me my mug; he runs his hand down my calf, a motion to tell me he'll be here when I need him, and then leaves us to talk.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything," Sokka mumbles after we take a sip of our tea.

I nod my head. "I know you are."

"We are doing okay money-wise. Mom's life insurance has helped. But Dad has just been…empty."

I shudder. I know what that is like. I felt empty for a week until Aang helped me out of it. But I guess Dad has only loved Mom, and she was his best friend—and he was lost without her. But it's no excuse to leave your family; I feel the anger welling inside me.

"Can we just talk about this tomorrow?" Sokka asks, his usually playful voice laced with fatigue.

"I'm really tired and I'm sure you are too. You and Aang drove all this way."

I give him a sad smile. "Yeah, of course, Mr. Swordsman. We'll talk tomorrow."

He gives me another hug and then sets his mug on the coffee table. He gets off the couch, grabs Suki by the hand, and walks down the short hallway to our parent's old room, shutting the door behind them.

I set my mug down on the table too just as Aang joins me—wrapping one of his arms around my shoulder and pulling me closer to him. I look up at him and meet his beautiful, sad, gray eyes. He lifts his other hand and cups my face. Suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, I pull him forward until his forehead presses against mine just as the first sob escapes my mouth. He left. My father left without saying goodbye. And I'll probably never see him again. Just like my mother.

I'm back here in the house I loved so much, and all the warmth it ever had is gone. Because they are gone. It's as if the good times spent here have vanished with them. Aang pulls me onto his lap and wraps both of his arms around me, keeping his forehead to mine.

I cry mutely, the silence of the room is only interrupted when I take a shaky breath. After the tears stop, Aang lifts me and begins to walk me down the hall.

Aang's only been here once before, but he obviously remembers the layout and automatically takes me to my old room at the end of the hall. He lays me down on the quilted bed, which he must have turned down earlier, and then throws the covers back over me. He crouches down so he can look at me at eye level.

"I brought your toothbrush and stuff in my bag, along with some pants and underwear and other clothes—all the essentials. I set them in the corner."

He points to the chair that rests only a few feet away from the bed—considering this room is so small. "I'll be on the couch if you need me, Tara."

I grab his hand as he gets up to leave and pull him back to me. Tears prick my eyes again. I can't have another person leave me. "Please don't," I whisper.

"Don't what?"

"Leave. Sleep with me."

He nods and squeezes my hand before letting it go. He moves around to the other side of the bed and sheds his pants and orange button-up before climbing into bed in his boxers and a thin, orange t-shirt. I turn my body onto my side and move towards him until his face is only a few inches away from mine.

He moves closer to me and presses his lips to my left cheek. Then he kisses my forehead, and then my chin; my right cheek, and then my nose. "I love you, Katara. I will be here when you need me and when you don't. I will be there when you scream at me or when you whisper to me. I will cry with you and smile with you and laugh with you. I will hold you until you tell me not to, and I will talk to you until you tell me to stop. I will stay with you. Always."

My heart beats in my chest. When it seems like everyone has left me, Aang promises to stay with me—and I want to believe him. I don't know what I would do if he wasn't with me. "Always?"

His eyes glow in the darkness—a light silver flame. "Always, Katara. Until the earth explodes and darkness is upon us; until the day I die, and even in the afterlife—I will stay with you. Always."

I need him. I will always need him.

"Always."

He squeezes his eyes shut, and a small tear escapes from the corner. I move closer, pressing up against him, and wipe the tear away. My mind is buzzing; what is going on? Where's the Aang I'm in love with? Or better yet, where's my best friend?

"My heart hurts," he finally whispers.

I breathe a sigh of relief that he's finally speaking again, but it's instantly taken away when I assess his sentence. What does that mean exactly?

"I'm floundering here, Katara."

"Well, you could have just told me. I can try to help you," I plead, stroking his cheek.

He shakes his head. "Not this time. It's different now."

"Why? Why is it different now?"

His eyes flash with something I can't identify. Something that looks suspiciously like— "Because I had you, Katara," he says, interrupting my train of thought. "For one night—and then I fucked it up."

My heart beats faster in my chest. Is he saying what I hope I think he is? I remove the hand I have on his chest, squeeze between the two of us, and put it on the other side of his face. "Aang…" I exhale. Please say it. Please.

He leans toward me and I close my eyes, ready to finally kiss him again. But his lips press to my forehead. He holds them there for a long time.

"I'll be okay. You'll always be my best friend. And I'm sorry I've shut you out these past few weeks. It won't happen again," he whispers against my skin.

And my heart breaks a little more.

-.-

I spend the rest of the night in bed, shoving donuts down my throat like they're going out of style. I do not wallow, but right now, I don't care about what I normally do. I'm wallowing. I'm wallowing hardcore. Asami Sato's 'Breakup' album is playing, I'm buried under my covers and my boyfriends Ben and Jerry are keeping me company.

Aang doesn't want me. That's abundantly clear. It's been over a month since we had our night, and he hasn't said the words. So, I'm giving up. No more attempts to seduce him. No more late-night cuddle sessions…actually…yeah. I'm going to keep those. But I'm not going to try to push myself on him anymore. I don't want to force him to love me. I just want him to love me on his own.

A soft knock interrupts my self-pity and I peek out from under the covers and call for him to enter. Aang opens the door a few seconds later, carrying a box of pizza. He jumps onto the bed and opens the box for the two of us. It's half veggie, half pepperoni, our favorites.

It's a peace offering. He's apologizing for being distant. Together we nibble on the pizza, just listening to the music flowing around my room in the sound system he set up for me.

"You're a better singer than she is," Aang says mid-bite. I blush.

Damn him.

I shake my head. "No way. Asami Sato is…the shit." He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. "So are you."

I look at him with disbelief. He flashes me a wiry grin. "I honestly love listening to you play and hearing you sing. It's so beautiful—you are too talented, even with this as your hobby. And you always could express how you feel with your music—and you can share it with people other than me." He smirks at me.

"Are you writing anything new?"

I shake my head but stop in the middle of it.

Scratch that whole giving-up thing. I don't want to do that. I don't want to forget.

I have an idea.

-.-

"I can't go on a date with you."

Haru's easygoing smile instantly fades and his forehead wrinkles. We're sitting on the bench in front of the Hospital during our lunch break. This probably isn't the best place to talk about dating or not dating, but I wanted to tell him as soon as possible after I decided to finally tell Aang how I felt. My palms start to sweat just thinking about that. I'm going to tell Aang I'm in love with him. Shit!

"I thought you liked me, Katara. You've been…responsive to my advances these past two weeks," Haru replies scratching behind his ear.

"I know. And I am interested in you, but—"

"You can't get over 'him?'" he asks, his voice devoid of emotion.

"I'm never going to," I whisper.

He nods his head, his lips pressed into a hard line. I don't know what else to do at the moment, but I don't want to confuse him with my consoling, so I stand to gently end my break and go back to my office. I didn't want to hurt Haru, and he is a great guy, but he's just not Aang. It's as simple as that. He isn't the one I dream about or the one I think about. He's not the one that makes me feel butterflies. He's not the one I'm in love with.

When I've settled back into my comfy chair, I turn on my pager to clock back in when there's a soft knock on the door. Zuko, the secretary, enters not two seconds later.

"There's someone here to see you," he says with wariness in his golden eyes. My eyebrows furrow in confusion. I wonder who it would be. Aang, maybe?

But no. Zuko opens the door a little wider a reveals an innocent-looking On Ji. She clicks into my office in her red pumps; her dark hair pulled away from her face by a pretty maroon ribbon. She sits down in the seat across from me and adjusts her pinstriped skirt.

My anger flares her. What the hell does she think she's doing here? Aang won't talk to her, so she thinks she can talk to me and plead her case to him. Fuck that. I hate her now—she must know that.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, forgoing the pleasantries. I actually kind of liked On Ji as a person when she was dating Aang—I just didn't like her dating Aang. And though I could never figure out why that was at the time, I know now.

"I wanted to talk about Aang," she says simply, running her hands down the front of her white button-up.

"What about him?" I sneer at her, my teeth clenched. How dare she even talk about Aang to me! She can say she cares about him, but you don't care about someone enough if you cheat on them.

"I'm in love with him." I get that. Why does she need to tell me this? My fingers are gripping the edge of my desk and I can feel the blood rush out of them.

"Your point?"

"And so are you."

I freeze. "What are you talking about?" I lie, trying to calm the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

She uncrosses her legs and leans forward, hovering over my desk. "Katara, it's obvious. I realized it the day Aang had to go to the hospital—and I should have realized it sooner."

"Katara?"

On Ji's voice is soft through my phone. I look at my phone again; it's Aang's caller ID.

"Yeah, what's up?" I ask, holding the cell between my shoulder and my ear as I place my

notebook into my backpack. I just finished my last class of the day—like just barely. Aang knows that, so I guess it's understandable he's not the one on the other line. But why does she have his phone?

"You know that I was going to a cooking class with Aang, right?"

"Yeah, he told me."

"Well, there was a little accident—he's fine, don't worry—but we are in the emergency room at Avatar Hospital and he wanted to call you and tell you, but I told him I would do it for him."

The phone slips out of my grasp and clatters to the ground, fear overwhelming my body. Aang's in the hospital? I throw my bag over my shoulder, grab my fallen cell, and sprint out of the classroom as fast as humanly possible, thankful that I've been trained to run fast from my hunting trips. I'm pretty sure I knock someone over as I run down the front steps of the building, but I don't look back. I don't care. All I want is to see Aang.

I can't lose him. He promised me only five months ago that he would always stay with me, and he can't go. He promised. I can't survive without him, not after everything that's happened recently.

First, my Mom's death, and then my Father's disappearance. And Sokka moving on with Yue. I can't be without someone. No, not just someone. Him. I can't be without my best friend.

Avatar Hospital is only about ten blocks away from campus, so I just run there. My backpack bounces on my back and chafes my neck, but I don't pay attention to it. By the time I throw open the doors to the emergency room, I'm pouring sweat and I have a slight spasm in my inner thigh that I get when I'm pushing myself too hard. As I approach the woman sitting behind the front desk, I see her eyes fly up, startled.

"I need to see Aang Cheng," I command, wiping my forehead with my forearm.

The girl adjusts the collar of her sleeveless shirt and clears her throat. "Let me just look to see if he's here." She begins to look through a stack of files on her desk.

"He is here. Now just let me see him."

"Miss, you need to be calm—"

"Calm? I am completely calm!" I practically shout. " What I need is to see my best friend!"

"I found him," she cuts me off, holding a file in her petite hand.

About time. "Thank you for doing your job," I say with a fake smile. She tries to give me a pleasant smile, trying to hold in her annoyance with me, but it dies in the middle. She stands up from her chair and leads me down the hall towards a pair of swinging doors. The grey-specked emergency room is full of beds with ugly green curtains surrounding them. I see Aang in the bed in the back corner before the woman points him out and I leave her behind, sprinting towards him.

His eyes dart up to meet mine, and I'm sure he can see the worry there.

"Katara, what are you doing here?" he asks, but I ignore him.

I grab his face in my hands and lean forward to press a hard kiss to his cheek. I've never kissed him before, he's always been the one that gives me a soft kiss on the forehead or cheek, but I have to do it right now. I kiss him again on the other cheek, then pull back and examine his face, my fingers running along his features. Okay, his face isn't hurt. My eyes flick down his chest—still no damage—and then finally rest on his right hand: it's bandaged up with white gauze and lying out on the side of his body.

"You promised me, Aang," I whisper; my hands are still holding his face. My entire body starts to shake. I flicked my eyes to meet his again. "You promised you'd stay with me."

His eyes fill with concern immediately. "Hey, I'm not going anywhere." He tries to smile at me but it doesn't calm me at all—and he can tell. He pulls me into his lap with his left hand and strokes the top of my thigh.

"You almost died!" I shout.

He shakes his head, frowning. "Tara, I swear, I didn't almost die. I just burned myself grabbing a pan that one of the other students set on fire. It was a stupid mistake, but I'm going to be completely fine. Always, remember? I'm not going anywhere."

I take a deep breath. I hate being weak like this. But I can't help it. When it comes to Aang, I'm completely vulnerable. Losing him would break me.

"Always."

Suddenly, there's a throat clearing and I pull back from Aang a little bit to turn my head towards the sound. On Ji stands with her hands clasped in front of her. Her bright golden eyes are slit with disapproval and her eyebrows are furrowed. But I don't care if she doesn't like this.

Until there's a ring on her finger, he's still my best friend.

"You'd barely been dating then," I say to her.

She nods her head. "And yet I still knew. The only person that doesn't know is Aang. But that's because he's too wrapped up in his fear to realize it." She leans back in her chair.

"I didn't want to cheat on him—it just happened. But I want you to know that you don't just get him."

"Get him?"

"Yeah. I'm going to fight for him." She stands up. "So game on."

I stand up too and point my finger at her. I finally have the chance to yell at her, and I'm not going to let this opportunity slip through my fingers.

"Listen to me, On Ji. You've already lost this fight. If you knew Aang at all, you would know that he hates cheaters more than anything. So as soon as you kissed my ex, you lost him—with no chance of ever getting him back. None." I walk around the desk and stand only a few inches from her.

"So just remember that the next time you fuck Jet. You have no chance with Aang anymore. And if you try to touch him again, I make you regret that decision. He's my best friend, and I won't let him get hurt by you ever again."

She pulls her keys out of her black leather purse. "I'm sure I'll see you soon, Katara. When you come out of your room one morning to find me making pancakes and wearing only Aang's shirt."

Then she leaves.

And I throw my stapler at the door.

-.-

I haven't quite figured out it yet, but the words and moves came to me last night after Aang fell asleep next to me, still fully clothed with a piece of pizza lying on his chest. I guess those sleepless nights he's been having caught up to him. Watching him doze beside me was just fuel, and the dance was exactly what was going on within me; it was everything I was feeling and everything I was thinking. And I'm not scared anymore—I'm just nervous. I want him to feel the

same.

When I hear the front door close, I get up off my bed and go to find Aang. He's shucking off his sash jacket and hanging it on the hook by the door. I sprint down the hallway towards him and wrap my arms around his middle, hugging him to me. He immediately returns the embrace.

"What was that for, exactly?" he asks after I pull away. "Not that I minded—I'm just curious." His beautiful eyes are dancing with amusement.

"I wanted to hug you before I had to share some news with you," I explain. And I love the feeling of your body against mine.

His eyebrows furrow, and I grab his hand and pull him to the couch. He sits down on his usual side, and I sit on the other. But then I pull his arm, and indicate he should lay his head down on my lap; he does so.

"You're starting to make me nervous, Katara. What's going on?"

I brush the soft skin and tattoo from his scalp to his forehead and gaze into his eyes. I'm not ready to say the words right now—it's not the right moment—but Spirits, I feel them. This kind man is everything good in this world, and I know I'm not deserving of him, but it won't stop me from wanting to be. And wanting him.

"On Ji visited me today," I whisper, my voice lowering.

Aang's whole body tenses and I see his jaw clench, making it even sharper; I run my finger along it, trying to ease his discomfort.

"She wants you back Aang, but I made it abundantly clear that she needs to back the fuck off or shit will go down."

"Did you hit her?" he asks, his voice shaking slightly.

My lips tug into a half smile. "I wanted to. But I didn't. Not this time."

He gives me a small smirk. "But next time you will?"

I nod my head, wearing a full-blown grin. "Hell yes." My ring finger curls the earing sported on his ear. "She doesn't get to fuck over my best friend and come away from it without a scratch or two."

A chuckle escapes his throat. "Are you hungry, sweetie?"

I love it when he calls me that. It only happens once in a millennium, but it always makes my

stomach flip. "Starved."

"Katara," he purrs into my ear before taking the lobe into his mouth and biting it gently; my breath picks up in response.

A bead of sweat travels between my breasts and he follows it with his mouth—down my body until he reaches my center again. He hitches my legs over his shoulders as he plants lingering kisses up and down my inner thighs. As he continues his kissing, edging closer and closer to where I want him most, his soft hands glide up my body and cup my flushed chest. He rolls my nipples between his thumb and forefingers, and I mewl in response.

Finally, he dives into me, his tongue lapping at the wetness that's collected there and reaching into me as far as it can go. A moan escapes my throat, and my hands fly to his head, my nails digging into his scalp. My left heel digs into his lower back, slick with sweat, and I uncontrollably grind into his mouth. Goodness, it feels so good.

He takes my clit into his mouth, sucking on it hard and I gasp his name as I fall. "Oh, Aang!"

"Yeah?"

My eyes fly open. I'm on the couch in the living room; my legs sprawled out over Aang's lap. It was just a dream—but the sensations felt so real! The junction of my thighs is throbbing to prove it.

"Were you saying something?" Aang asks again.

"Ummmmmmm, yeah," I lie. "I was just going to say I like this show." I point towards the screen, where Korra's Anatomy is playing.

"Yeah, I know. That's why I put it on while we wait for dinner to finish baking." I look over to him, to find him smiling at me, his pale skin flushed with amusement.

He shifts his body on the couch, and he begins to crawl between my legs. I watch him with curious eyes. "What were you dreaming about, Katara?" he asks, his voice laughing.

"Nothing," I mumble, blush taking over my cheeks.

His hands move to my sides. "You're lying." And then he starts tickling me. Tickling. Me. My shrill giggle cuts through the silence of the house and I thrash around, trying to move away from his hands. Aang watches me with a goofy grin on his face, his eyes dancing. I'm laughing like a total girl, and snorting uncontrollably, and he's enjoying every second of it.

"Aang, stop!" I finally gasped through the laughter.

He chuckles and finally relents. I give him a small punch in the shoulder as I try to get my breath back. "Jerk."

He barks out a laugh. Then, without warning, he lets his body collapse onto mine and squishes me into the couch. I wrap my legs around his and my arms around his back, not caring if I'm revealing my desire to hold onto him.

"Am I hurting you?" he asks, nuzzling his face into my neck, his lips resting at the corner of my jaw.

His scent invades my nostrils, vanilla, and cedarwood calm me. There's no way in hell I'm going to let this moment end soon. "Never."

We stay like this, with the TV quietly running in the background until the oven beeps at us. Then we get up and eat together.

Everything is back to normal.

Except me.

I'm in love with him irrevocably, and with each passing second, I want to tell him more and more.

-.-

Aang and Katara are so delusional it hurts to write this. Any way, thank you for your continued support! I plan to have chapter 7 posted in about a week or two!