KW: Gravity

It was so very hard to keep his distance.

He had a feeling--well, more of an inkling, really--that Katara wanted space. And while he was inclined to respect that, it was hard. So, so hard… to just talk to her like normal, to smile and laugh, when all he wanted was to kiss her again. It was like a drug, or maybe just something he enjoyed too much, and he craved more.

And yet… her hugs were practically nonexistent these days, and her smiles fleeting. When before, she would absentmindedly hold his hand, rest her fingers on his back… now it was almost like she was avoiding him. That was what made it so hard, difficult, like his heart was cracking piece by piece (and like old, peeling paint, he couldn’t help but pick at it).

Kissing her, while he’d meant it… meant every feeling he’d poured into it, had changed their relationship. It scared him. The awkwardness had never been so thick and murky, leaving him to suffocate in the remnants.

So sure, he’d been, that it would be easier. That she really cared for him as deeply as he did her… and that they would already be a couple. But every day, every tiring day, she kept quiet about the small moment above the subs; and he bit his tongue every time. He refused to bring it up if she wouldn’t. And the doubting thoughts drifted through him (does she even like me, what if I did something wrong, what if she hates me?).

So his heart ached and his lips burned and his mind spun.

“Aang?”

He snapped from his meditation and glanced up at the one who’d been preoccupying his previous thoughts. Katara tilted her head to the side, her mouth curved into a slight frown, and took a step forward. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he finally asked, “Yeah? What’s wrong?”

She scrutinized him for a moment. “You look worn out. Is Zuko pushing you too hard?”

“Ah, no, I’m fine. Just taking a break.”

The answer seemed to be enough for her; her face softened to pale worry and she looked around. “Have you seen Sokka’s map?” she questioned. Pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, she continued: “I was moving everything earlier and I must have dropped it--or so he says.” With an eye roll, she peeked by the fountain, then trailed her gaze back to him.

“I haven’t seen it.” Honestly, he hadn’t seen much of anything outside his rambling mind. He stood and brushed off his pants. “Did you need help?” he offered. “Two pairs of eyes should be better than one.”

“Thanks.”

That was it. The bulk of their conversations these days was short, to the point, and mainly about something other than themselves. As much as Aang hated it, he held back his urge to strike up another topic (of course, he also had to fight back the need to just scoop her up and kiss her).

“Here it is!”

The boy turned to her, just a little disappointed that the search hadn’t taken longer, and watched her walk over to him. “So you did drop it.”

“Yeah…,” she murmured. “Now I just have to deal with Sokka re--”

She tripped. Instinctively, he moved in to help her, but somehow she was able to send them both tumbling backwards. They landed with a gentle “oof” on the rocky floor.

Aang carefully propped himself up on his elbows. He winced, noting the pain in his left arm. “Are you…?” he began, staring at the top of her head.

“I’m okay,” was her whispered response. A groan followed.

It was at that moment that the young Avatar realized their position. He blushed, mind racing at the mere idea of her body against his. It was tempting, so very tempting, and he just… he couldn’t.

When she lifted her head, however, everything seemed to stop. Her eyes were wide, filled with shock and embarrassment and… what was that last one? Her mouth moved, like she wanted to say something, but only a warm breeze escaped her lips. Her cheeks were tinted rose--she looked so beautiful with a blush--and he felt the hand on his chest grip a little tighter.

“Ka… Katara…?” he managed to whisper. What surprised him was the affect it had on her. She gasped, eyes falling to his mouth. One hand slid up… and she began to trace his bottom lip with her index finger.

He sucked in a breath, lips parting with her gentle coaxing. Was it…? He watched as she began to lean in, nose brushing against his, and it dawned on him: she had been fighting the same urges all along. Her lips covered his, captured, and sent him reeling.

The hand she’d been massaging his mouth with moved to cup the back of his neck; and her head tilted more, deepening, quenching the need she’d denied for so long. Aang allowed one arm to slide up her back and play with her hair. He shuddered as he felt her fingers trace his jaw line.

He finally let his other arm go where it wanted (it quickly gripped at her hip) and they fell back onto the floor with another “oof.” Her hair spilled around him; but he could only think of her, more of her, just kissing her. He didn’t care that his arm hurt or that, on the second fall, a rock had wedged its way into his back.

Perhaps he would let gravity have its way a little longer.

--

KATAANG WEEK IS ALMOST OVER. D:

Uh. I like the fic! I'm still a little unsure about the pic (HAHAHA, OH, MY CRAPPY BACKGROUNDS FAIL).