Chapter Text
A morbid part of Katara’s mind can’t help but wish for Sozin’s comet to arrive sooner. Then, at least, she wouldn’t have to deal with this.
While Katara has made no secret of her distaste for Zuko’s presence ever since he first arrived at the Western Air Temple, it had been easier to deal with then. They had fallen into a routine in the weeks spent there—Zuko would spend the mornings off training with Aang, join up with the rest of the group for meals, and spend his remaining time doing who-knows-what somewhere else in the temple. They even had their own rooms to sleep in.
Then, Katara could almost pretend he wasn’t there. The only times she had to acknowledge his presence were during meals. Now—the six of them camped out on some tiny island with little privacy at all—Katara can hardly breathe without bumping into Zuko.
Bumping into him quite literally sometimes.
Katara scowls at the memory of yesterday morning, when Azula had nearly blasted them off the cliff. As if it wasn’t bad enough to be driven out of a much-needed safe haven, Katara is forced to concede that she—and the rest of the group—owe their safety to Zuko. Zuko, the traitor. Zuko, who had wormed his way into her heart and crushed it, only to come crawling back and pretending it never happened.
They’d spent last night singing his praises over dinner, treating Katara like the buzzkill for sitting by with a scowl as the man who had nearly cost them—cost the world—everything smiled shyly as he was patted on the back. Defending them from Azula is the bare minimum after he’d sided with her and nearly gotten them all killed. Who’s to say he didn’t lead her there, anyway?
Even worse is the memory of falling rocks and being swept out of their way before they could crush her. Katara hates the way Zuko had been the one to spring into action. She remembers his warm body over hers, gentle and strong all at once as he’d pulled her to safety, cushioned her fall, and shielded her with his own body without a second’s hesitation. How he’d smiled so tenderly in gratitude as she’d returned the favor by catching him out of the air and pulling him into Appa’s saddle. She thinks about how his body had felt touching hers, the warmth emanating from him, the hard planes of muscle under his clothes, the gentleness of his calloused hands, those times she’d caught a glimpse of him meditating in the sunlight without his tunic…
Katara’s cheeks flush red at those memories and the way her mind keeps returning to them.
No—she can’t let him in again. She can’t let these little reminders of how human he is cloud her judgment once again.
It makes no sense!
Katara hates him. And he knows it, which is the worst part. Every time their eyes meet, Zuko looks like he’s caught between hurt and hopeful, like he’s desperate for her to start putting up with him the way everyone else has. Katara hates that it’s almost enough to make her pity him, but she forces herself to ignore it. This is exactly what he did in Ba Sing Se—he managed to touch her heart, to connect with some of her most personal feelings, and she’d let it blind her. While her fear that Zuko might suddenly turn and betray them all once again isn’t as strong as it once was, Katara can’t get over how manipulative he’s proven himself to be. That’s it—just his manipulation. Because if not…Katara doesn’t want to unpack what that would mean.
Zuko’s still doing it. He not only trains Aang like he’s supposed to, but he’s constantly butting in on Katara’s business. She wonders how many times she’s going to have to tell him that no, she doesn’t need him heating up the water for laundry, she doesn’t need help with the dishes, and she most certainly doesn’t need his sweaty hands all over the vegetables she’s trying to cook.
The only break Katara seems to be able to get now is wandering the island by herself, foraging for their next meal. She likes breathing in the warm air and the gentle breeze, focused on something other than Zuko. Wandering to the opposite side of the island from camp is the only way to escape that infuriating, pleading stare of his, and her friends’ confusion at her refusal to relent in her suspicion of him.
Luckily, nobody is able to argue much with Katara’s time spent away from camp. She’s been largely responsible for foraging in the past, and is the most experienced with Fire Nation flora out of all her friends. She’s careful, but can usually find something she recognizes from a market or an apothecary easily enough. The thought that Zuko might know something about his nation’s plant life crosses her mind, but Katara pushes it away. A spoiled prince like him probably couldn’t be bothered to learn such things.
She finds that the vegetation of the island is much more sparse than she had grown used to in the forests surrounding the Western Air Temple, so her focus is on the ground, on edible roots from the low-growing bushes.
However, today something new catches her eye.
It’s in a hidden crevice in the rock face she’s walking past, just barely creeping out. Katara finds herself instantly drawn to the bush and its alluring, purple blossoms. On closer inspection, the purple-tinted roots hanging down from the outcropping are ones she recognizes from a market—rare, yet delicious and tender when stewed.
Katara eagerly begins gathering the roots—enough for a hearty lunch, but leaving some behind to grow back. Having the roots in her hand improves her mood already. She was expecting to live off of scraps until their next opportunity to visit a market, but this is a welcome surprise. Dealing with Zuko and his stupid sad eyes would be more bearble over a satisfying lunch.
The prideful part of her also reminds her that this is her doing this time; no more sitting through another session of Zuko praise for the bits of tea knowledge he’d picked up from his uncle.
She doesn’t know why—it isn’t really like her—but Katara decides to take some of the little purple flowers with her. As she takes a long whiff of one, she’s overcome by its glorious scent. It’s sweet and pungent all at once, and Katara can’t think of a smell that could compare besides the rich, opulent perfumes wafting through the Earth King’s ballroom.
Without thinking, Katara picks a few blooms to take back with her. She realizes that while she’s certain the root can be safely boiled and eaten, she has no idea about the flowers. If so, they’d make an amazing tea, and if not, they’re nice to look at.
Her lip curls slightly in disgust when she realizes Zuko might be the only one to know if the flowers are safe to brew into tea, but she doesn’t let it ruin her day.
It’s still early, so Katara wanders a bit further before heading back to camp. She manages to find a few nuts and sour berries she recognizes, but nothing more out of the ordinary. Finally satisfied with her findings—and the long, peaceful morning she’d been able to enjoy—she heads back to camp.
Strangely, Katara begins to feel a hot flush rising to her cheeks. The breeze had felt pleasantly cool when she’d left this morning, why is it suddenly so hot? It is around noon, when the sun is at its highest, but it still strikes Katara as strange.
She sighs and wipes the sweat from her brow with one arm. Stupid Fire Nation and its stupid hot weather. Katara would take summer in the South Pole over this hot, sweaty climate any day. It’s beginning to feel almost like she’s drowning in hot soup.
Sweat is gathering at her hip where the edge of the basket she’s carrying is resting, and Katara angrily bends it away. What is going on? She still feels the soft touch of the sea breeze, but it does nothing to shake this sticky, sweaty feeling that’s setting in.
It creeps from her cheeks down her neck, and suddenly it feels like a rash is spreading across her whole body. Katara finds herself itching, her one free hand doing nothing to soothe the agonizing sensation.
She picks up her pace, suddenly desperate to finally be able to set this basket down and relax. Before she finally reaches camp, she’s forced to stop and itch herself twice. It must be from all the sweat—it’s truly unbearable today.
Luckily, when she finally returns to camp and sets the basket down by the cooking fire with a heavy sigh, Katara finds that Zuko is nowhere in sight. At least there’s that.
“What’s all this?” Toph asks. She’s lounging on a rock nearby, perfectly relaxed. If this heat is affecting her, she’s certainly not showing it.
“I found some roots to boil for lunch. They’re tasty,” she adds, knowing Toph isn’t the most fond of foraged food and has been practically begging to hide out somewhere near a town.
“Well, I could use some lunch,” Toph says with a yawn as she picks something out of her toes. “I can’t help you, can I?”
Though Toph can’t see it, Katara rolls her eyes at her sheepish grin, the both of them knowing Toph neither knows how to cook nor cares to learn. Though, she more than makes up for it by helping set up camp with some careful earthbending.
“No, there isn’t much to do,” Katara says, already beginning to unpack the ingredients. Most require no cooking at all, with the exception of those purple roots. “I just need to get some water boiling.”
“Shame Sparky is off training with Aang,” Toph taunts. “Could have asked him for help.”
“I’ve never had any trouble starting a cooking fire before,” Katara snaps, absolutely hating the way that itchy heat flares up as she’s forced to think of Zuko. What is it today? “I don’t see why I should start relying on firebending now.”
“Whatever you say, Sugar Queen.”
Katara rolls her eyes and ignores her, focused on preparing lunch. Hopefully settling down and cooking will shake off this stupid itch. She’s still scratching herself every few seconds, almost subconsciously at this point.
Finally, she gets a fire going—the few minutes it took were so worth not having to ask Zuko—and sets a pot of water boiling. As soon as that’s started, Katara keeps her distance from the fire to prepare the roots. She feels completely drenched in sweat now; it’s bad enough that she has to bend it off of herself to keep it from soaking her clothes. Katara tries fanning herself, pouring cool water over her face, but nothing helps.
With a frustrated groan, she decides there is nothing more to be done but wait until she has the chance for a nice swim to cool off. Katara picks up the first of the roots, and the strangest sensation comes over her. As she turns it in her hand, she can’t help but think of how phallic it looks. Logically, it isn’t shaped much differently from any other root, but the longer she stares at it, the more her mind races. Katara stares at the texture and imagines it’s a cock. She imagines licking it, feeling it inside her, riding it harder and harder and harder—
Katara gasps and she struggles to shake that thought away, and hurriedly shoots Toph a glance, part of her afraid she somehow knows the filthy thoughts and images that just passed through her mind. She realizes that she feels like she’s burning between her legs with hot desire and coughs in embarrassment as she returns to skinning the roots. Dirty thoughts cross her mind from time to time, sure, but this—
“Are you alright, Katara?” Suki’s voice asks, making her jump in surprise.
Katara opens her mouth to answer, still flustered by the root in her hand, her rebellious body, and that constant fucking heat. She feels like everyone is staring, like the unwanted thoughts creeping into her mind are written on her forehead for all to see. Naked…
“I figured she was just all tense because I mentioned Sparky when she came back,” Toph mutters before Katara can find her words.
“Oh, find a better hobby, Toph!” Katara snaps. “It’s just this heat today. It’s killing me! How are you managing?”
Suki raises a questioning eyebrow, and so does Sokka as he saunters up behind her.
“Heat?” she asks. “I guess it’s warm, but not any more than usual. Are you feeling sick at all?”
“No! Well, I…” Katara trails off. Maybe she did pick up a bug somewhere, and it’s just now beginning to take effect. But this isn’t the season for it at all, and how could she be the only one? They’ve all been following the same habits and eating the same food—well, except Aang—so surely someone else would be coming down with it, too. “I could be. It isn’t that bad.”
Katara accepts that possibility as she continues working. If nobody else is sick, it’s probably not contagious, and she’s definitely still functional enough to cook a simple meal. At least it’s an explanation. A cool swim, an afternoon of bed rest, and it should pass. Nothing to be concerned about…right?
“You sure we should be eating all this food you’ve picked, then?” Sokka asks, eyeing a berry skeptically, as if it’s going to leap up and bite him.
“If I’m the only one sick, I’m probably not contagious,” Katara says dryly. “Besides, I’m not even sure I’m sick. It could just be the climate. I’m not used to this weather at all.”
“Well, I grew up in the same place you did, and I’m fine!” Sokka’s concern admittedly makes her smile. “Besides, what if you’re just the first one to start getting sick?”
“Well, Katara has been out walking in the sun all day,” Suki reminds him. “We just…uh…sparred in the morning, then cooled off under the cliffs. Maybe you should rest, Katara. You might have some mild heat stroke. I’ll finish this up.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Suki.”
Katara hands off the peeled roots with a grateful nod and sits out of the sun under the outcropping Toph had created. Before she does, she catches Sokka about to take a mouthful of those purple flowers and holds out her hands with a gasp.
“Wait!” she calls out, stopping him mid-bite. “I don’t know if those are safe to eat.”
“Then why did you bring them back?” Sokka huffs.
Katara rolls her eyes. “Not everything has to be for eating, you know. I thought they looked nice. And they smell good.”
Sokka frowns and takes a long sniff. “You know, they do. How could something that smells so good be poisonous?”
“That would be unfair, but still not worth the risk,” Suki chides from beside him, snatching the plant from his hand to see for herself. “But you’re right, they do smell amazing.”
“Hey, let me see!” Toph chimes in, reaching out towards them from her sunbathing spot.
Seeing them passing the flowers back and forth and admiring the scent, Katara retreats back to the shade with a groan. After a few minutes of fanning herself and drinking cold water does nothing to settle the heat, she leans back against the rock and immediately huffs in annoyance at the sweat already beginning to collect. She’ll just have to wait it out. It’s awful, but it can’t last forever, right?
“What’s that?” Aang’s excited voice exclaims over the chaos that is beginning to make Katara’s head spin. “Let me see!”
“Some flowers Katara found,” Sokka says as he grabs another handful of berries. “They smell great, but she said not to eat them. Could be poison.”
“Hmm,” Aang murmurs as he studies them. “Wow, they do smell good! Hey Zuko, do you know if we can eat these?”
Ugh, now he’s here.
Katara wants to feel annoyed, but for some reason, Zuko’s presence sends an uncomfortable jolt through her body. He and Aang must have been training—Katara can’t take her eyes off the way Zuko’s tunic is stuck against his chest, revealing the outline of the prominent muscles there. What would it feel like to feel, to grope, to taste…
“I’m not sure,” Zuko says with a frown, and Katara can almost feel the rumble of his voice. She finds herself pressing her knees together, horrified that she has to, grateful that nobody is watching her.
What the fuck is wrong with her? Stupid heat, stupid brain, stupid fucking Zuko—
Zuko sniffs the flowers himself before shaking his head. “There’s something familiar about these, but I can’t remember if I've seen them before. I wouldn’t eat them, though.”
There’s an audible groan, to which Zuko rolls his eyes. “Hey! I didn’t make the flowers! Don’t blame me if you poison yourselves!”
He’s more tense now, and the way he’s raising his voice should anger Katara. But for some reason it doesn’t; now Katara feels strangely drawn to him. She feels more hot and itchy than ever, but thinking about the way Zuko is carrying on and moving about camp somehow makes her forget it as a pleasant tingle takes its place.
The scene before her fades away, and suddenly she imagines Zuko standing right in front of her. He lifts her up, he pushes her back against these rocks, and she feels every inch of those fine muscles pressed into her skin. She feels hot, like she wants to tear off her clothes and replace them with his touch. She wants him grabbing, pulling, inside…ways she’s never been able to—
“Katara?” that soft, raspy voice asks, right in front of her now. “Are you alright?”
Katara gasps, recoiling from Zuko and wanting to fucking vomit at what she’d just been thinking, although she can still feel the heat between her legs demanding that she touch him. It’s getting harder to fight and she feels furious at herself, at Zuko…at everything.
“I’m fine,” she snaps. “Your weather is awful!”
Zuko frowns at that, but turns away with a sigh. Suki is telling him something about heat stroke, but Katara can’t focus on it. Whatever strange spell has overtaken her is getting worse, especially when she decides to step back into the sunlight in search of more water. No matter how much she drinks, she’s still so fucking hot and thirsty.
She trips on a half-buried stone in her haste, and feels a strong hand catch her. Him.
Strong, calloused hand…that hand sliding lower, to the place where she’s burning for him. Those thick, hard fingers groping her, pressing in—
“Get away!” Katara cries, jerking her arm away. She can’t be around Zuko—not now—can’t—
“Hey, it’s alright, Katara,” Suki says. “Why don’t you try to rest, and I’ll find some…”
Suki keeps talking, but Katara doesn’t hear words. She fixates first on Suki’s lips and imagines kissing them. Her eyes travel down Suki’s strong biceps, her round breasts.
Katara tears her eyes away with a gasp. Of course she’d always found Suki beautiful, but she’d never have thoughts like that before.
Everywhere she looks, it feels like an attack.
She sees Zuko, and can’t stop imagining his naked body lying over hers. She sees Suki, and is overcome with the urge to see every inch of her. Toph—unhygienic as Katara knows she is—seems different too: beautiful, soft, powerful. Even Aang has a strange appeal about him with his goofy smile and sun-tanned skin.
It makes Katara want to scream.
She turns and hurries away from camp, desperate to just be alone. It isn’t just mortifying anymore; it’s terrifying. Katara feels completely out of control and it’s only getting worse.
“Katara!” Suki cries. “Come back!”
“Leave me alone!” Katara yells behind her, not daring to look back for longer than a second.
She has no idea how far she’s traveled before she’s collapsing against a boulder, gasping. To her relief, it appears that nobody decided to follow her. Thank the fucking spirits for that.
A part of Katara’s mind begins whispering that she should just go back; she should just give in to it. That moment where she’d fantasized about Zuko had been the only moment of clarity, the only moment this hot itch felt pleasant rather than agonizing.
It’s a slippery slope thinking about that—suddenly, Katara finds herself there again.
The painful itch is gone; now it’s something intoxicating that makes her body hum with excitement. She imagines Zuko, she imagines the layers of clothing falling away from him. Glistening muscles, hard body, thick cock eager for her. It’s been so long since she’s felt anything, and fuck, does she want him.
One of her hands slips under her trousers to touch herself seemingly on its own. Katara gasps at the sensation; it’s wonderful, but nowhere near enough. She needs…she needs…
Katara rubs herself harder, moaning in a mixture of pleasure and frustration when she just can’t get it right. It feels so good, but she just can’t shake that fucking itch. For a moment there’s relief, but then the burning sensation washes over her that much harder.
It’s not enough, if only she could just—
Someone else could. Zuko could. What if it was his hands on her, his body touching, squeezing, pounding…
The answer seems so obvious now, and Katara can’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. She feels the last of her inhibitions leaving her as images of Zuko’s naked torso—dripping sweat after a workout—once again flash through her mind and suddenly she needs to know what the rest of him looks like under his clothes. How warm, how firm, how thick—
Katara’s head is spinning. All she knows is heat and the aching need between her legs. Why hadn’t she ever touched Zuko before? She was…angry about something. Why? Who knows.
Who cares? It doesn’t matter now.
Katara wanders in the direction she hopes is back towards camp. She will find Zuko.
A piece of Katara’s mind screams at her to stop, but she finds herself powerless against it.
She’s uncomfortable, she’s terrified, but nothing sounds better than release right now, and her body moves towards it instinctively despite her heart racing in fear.