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Aang texted her on a Tuesday, which she was starting to think was just his day for things that were important.
aang: okay so.
aang: hypothetically.
aang: if i wanted to take you to dinner on friday. like a real dinner. would you say yes
katara : hm i dont know
katara: what counts as a real dinner
aang: the kind where i make a reservation and you wear something nice and i pick you up at your door
aang: hypothetically speaking
katara: hypothetically yes
aang: is friday good?
katara: yes
aang: nice. friday. 7pm. i'll be at your door
aang: not hypothetically okay?
katara: of course
Aang's flight landed at noon. He took a cab to the hotel Zuko's firm had booked him, he dropped his duffel on the bed, and immediately left.
He had things to do.
The flower shop was three blocks from the hotel. He stood in front of them for longer than necessary. He knew Katara well enough to know she'd roll her eyes at roses, too performative. He was looking for something that said “I thought about you.”
He found the perfect flowers, white ranunculus with a few blue hydrangeas tucked through for contrast. Blue. Like her blue eyes.
"Good choice," the old lady behind the counter said, wrapping them in brown paper.
"I'm nervous," he told her.
She patted his hand. "Don’t worry, she'll love them."
Katara heard the knock and took a breath before she opened it.
He was standing in the hallway in a dark coat with a bouquet of white and blue flowers wrapped in brown paper, looking almost exactly like the seventeen-year-old who used to show up at her childhood front door, same open expression, same barely-contained smiles ,except that he was taller now and the hallway light caught the angles of his face differently, yet she felt the exact same way she had at seventeen.
"Hi, you look beautiful," he said.
"Hi, you cleaned up nicely." She blushed, then looked at the flowers. "Aang."
"They're ranunculus," he said. "And hydrangeas. Because—" he gestured vaguely at her, at the blue of her dress, at everything.
She took them and pressed her face briefly into the bouquet so he wouldn't see her blush.
"Give me two seconds," she said, and found a vase, and when she came back for her coat he was leaning in her doorway looking at her so intimately.
"Ready," she said.
He offered his arm, with his elbow out, like the romcoms they used to watch when they were younger.
She shook her head. "You're ridiculous."
"You like it."
She just smiled and took his hand wordlessly.
The restaurant was a ten minute walk from her apartment, which she'd mentioned when he was researching places and which she suspected it wasn’t a coincidence that he picked it.
December in New York at night had a specific romantic feel, as the city lit up, everyone in their coats moving, carrying on with their lives. They moved slower than everyone else. His hand found hers without discussion, fingers threading through, warm despite the cold.
He glanced down at their hands as it reminded him.
"This feels like high school," he said.
"Which part?"
"All of it." He swung their joined hands lightly, just once. "Walking somewhere with you at night. Being together."
She smiled at the pavement. "We used to walk to the late showing at the old theater. Twenty minutes each way."
"In January," he added.
"In January. And you'd always forget gloves."
"And you'd always pretend to be annoyed about it."
"I was annoyed."
"You held my hand to warm it up."
"That was a solution," she countered. "I didn't want you to get frostbite or get sick."
He laughed, low and sincere, and she felt it in her hand where it was wrapped around his.
"I miss it," he said, quieter. "That time. Not enough to go back, I wouldn't. But I miss it."
She looked over at him. His face in profile, the breath visible in the cold air.
"Me too," she said honestly. "But I think I like this better."
He squeezed her hand. "Yeah," he said. "I think so too."
This was the kind of place that was warm and romantic, with dark wood and white linen and windows that looked out onto the dark street, a candle between them as their only source of light. The quiet murmurs of people around them. Their table was by the window, exactly as he'd requested.
He pulled out her chair. She sat down and looked at him.
"You planned all of this," she said.
"Obviously." He settled across from her and picked up his menu with great composure.
"The flowers and the walk and this restaurant–"
"Katara, sweetheart please, I'm trying to read the menu."
She hid her smile behind her own menu. He was definitely not reading it.
The food was wonderful. He ordered a mushroom risotto and a roasted vegetable dish and ate with a quiet hum of appreciation. She had the sea bass. They shared a bottle of sparkling water and a basket of bread.
They talked the way they'd been talking for weeks now, or rather texted, easy and casual, moving between funny and serious without difficulty. He told her about the Central Park renovations, how he might stay for a year or so to oversee the renovations. She told him about a surgery that week, a six-year-old girl who'd woken up post-op and the first thing she asked was if her dog was okay.
"Was the dog okay?" Aang asked.
"The dog was fine. She'd been worried about it the whole time she was under anesthesia, apparently."
"That's so cute." he pressed a hand over his heart. "I would worry about Appa like that too, to be honest"
"I thought so, she reminded me of you, especially how much she loves her dog." She told him.
He smiled and looked at her and thought about how she understood that she'd known him well enough to predict, with him in mind, and how intimate it felt.
They talked like no time had passed and like all the time had passed.
The candle between them burned down slowly. Outside the window, the city moved fast. Inside, with Katara, it was warm and peaceful.
The server brought dessert after they finished their meals, setting down two small plates, two plates of dark chocolate tart. Katara looked at hers and thought distantly that she should probably feel full and didn't care even slightly.
Aang looked at his dessert. Then at her. Then back at his dessert.
He set down his spoon.
"So," he said.
She looked up. Something in his voice had changed, still warm but more shy and cautious.
"So," she said.
He turned his water glass in a slow circle. Outside, a light rain had started against the window. The candle threw soft shadows across his face.
"I've been thinking about what I want to say for like three days," he started, "and I had a whole speech. It was good."
"What happened to it?"
"You opened your door and I forgot it."
She said nothing. Her heart was beating erratically.
He looked at her directly, like she hung the moon, it always felt like being seen all the way through.
"You're the most remarkable person I know, Katara. It didn’t matter when we first met when you were fifteen and you're even more so now, which I didn't think was possible, but here we are." He said it with complete honesty. "I spent five years thinking about you at the wrong moments. Every time something good happened I wanted to tell you first. That didn't go away. I don't think it was ever going to."A soft chuckle. "The way you love your job, saving and healing people. The way you still hold your coffee cup with both hands. The way you put others first before yourself. I think it’s time for someone to put you first."
Katara had not touched her chocolate tart. She had forgotten it existed.
He continued, "We aren’t seventeen anymore, and I know we both have real lives and real things and this is complicated. But I also think it's the least complicated thing I've felt in a really long time." He paused. "So, officially. Can I be your boyfriend?"
The last question landed differently than everything before it, almost shy. Like after everything, he still wasn't so sure if she would accept.
She loved him for that. She would think about that later, the exact moment she let herself know it, the candlelight, the rain on the window, his ears going faintly pink, the chocolate tart going cold.
She reached across the table and covered his hand with hers.
"You already are," she said. "You have been since that coffee date. I was just waiting for you to catch up."
He stared at her.
"You could have said something."
"I wanted to see what you'd do."
He laughed and shook his head, and turned his hand under hers so their fingers laced together on the white tablecloth. "You are the worst."
"As if you’re any better." She retorted.
He laughed again.
They finished dessert. He paid before she could even get a word out.. The server brought their coats.
He took her hand again the moment they hit the sidewalk. She walked closer than on the way there, close enough that their shoulders touched with every step.
Ten minutes back to her apartment.
At her door she turned to face him. He was looking at her the way he'd been looking at her all night—like she was the most interesting thing in any room.
He kissed her properly this time. Warm and genuine, one hand at her jaw.
When they pulled back she kept her eyes closed for a second longer.
"You should just stay," she rushed, before she'd fully decided to say it. "You're here probably for a while. The hotel is and far and I have a couch and—"
"Katara."
"I have good coffee and my apartment has its own laundry room."
"Katara." He smiled boyishly. "Yes."
She blinked. "Yes?"
"Yes. Obviously yes. I'll get my stuff tomorrow."
She exhaled.
"Can’t you just stay for the night?" She asked.
“Of course,” Aang said, voice low. “I can stay.”
Katara didn’t even let him finish speaking. She grabbed the front of his coat and yanked him inside, slamming the door behind them. The moment it closed, his mouth crashed into hers deep and possessive. He backed her up until her shoulders hit the wall, one hand sliding down to grip her ass and pull her against the growing hardness in his pants.
“Been thinking about this for weeks,” he murmured against her lips. “Thinking about you.”
Her dress was already halfway off before they moved. Aang unzipped it with one smooth tug, letting the fabric fall to the floor. He pulled back just enough to look at her in the low light—dark blue lace bra, matching panties, flushed skin.
“Fuck, Katara,” he breathed, eyes dark with hunger. “Look at you. So fucking perfect for me.”
She reached for his belt but he caught her wrists, pinning them gently but firmly above her head with one hand.
“Not yet,” he murmured, lips brushing her ear. “I want to take my time with you.”
He kissed her again, slower this time, while his free hand roamed—cupping her breast, thumb circling her nipple through the lace until she whimpered. Then he dipped his head and bit the side of her neck, hard enough to make her gasp, followed immediately by a soothing lick.
“Aang—”
“Bedroom,” he said against her skin. Before she could respond, he let go of her wrists, grabbed the back of her thighs and lifted her effortlessly. Katara wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her down the short hallway, mouth never leaving her neck, sucking and biting marks into her skin.
He kicked the bedroom door open and laid her down on the bed gently. He stripped off his shirt in one motion, revealing smooth, toned muscle, then crawled over her.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you like this,” he said, voice low. He hooked his fingers in her panties and dragged them down her legs slowly, teasingly. “All wet and desperate for me.”
Katara shivered as the cool air hit her. Aang pushed her thighs apart, settling between them, and just looked at her for a long moment.
“So pretty,” he praised, running a finger lightly up her slit, spreading her wetness. “My beautiful girlfriend. So soaked for me.”
He leaned down and dragged his tongue up her center in one slow, broad stroke. Katara moaned, hips bucking, but he pressed a firm hand on her lower stomach, holding her down.
“Stay still,” he ordered, looking up at her. “Let me help you feel good.”
She could feel his hot breath and his slow and teasing licks around her clit, never giving her exactly what she wanted until she was whimpering his name. Every time she tried to grind against his face, he pulled back and bit the inside of her thigh.
“Aang, please—”
“Please what, Katara?” He licked her clit gently, then stopped again. “Use your words. Tell me what you need.”
“I need you,” she gasped.
He smiled against her. “Good girl.”
His mouth finally gave her the pressure she craved. Within minutes she was trembling, thighs tightening around his head as she came hard, crying out his name. He didn’t stop, licking her through it, murmuring against her sensitive skin.
“That’s it…so good for me. Such a good girl when you come on my tongue.”
She was still catching her breath when he crawled back up, kissing her deeply so she could taste herself. His cock pressed hot and heavy against her thigh.
“Wait,” he whispered, nipping at her bottom lip. “I’m not done yet.”
He sat back on his knees, pulling her up with him. He unclasped her bra and tossed it aside, then bent his head to her breasts. Licking, sucking, and biting her nipples until she was moaning again, squirming. Every bite was followed by peppered kisses and praise.
“Look at these perfect tits,” he murmured, squeezing one while sucking the other. “Made just for me.”
Katara was shaking with pleasure, she felt delirious, she couldn’t think at all.
He stripped off his remaining clothes, stroking himself slowly as he looked at her spread out on the sheets, covered in hickeys and bite marks.
“You’re mine,” he said, voice low and possessive as he lined himself up. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” she said.
He pushed inside her in slow deep thrusts, groaning at how tight and wet she was. “Fuck… so good. You feel so fucking tight.”
He set a steady rhythm, deep and controlled, one hand pinning her hip while the other braced beside her head. Every few thrusts he’d lean down to bite her neck, her shoulder, her breast, leaving little marks that made her clench around him.
“Harder,” she begged.
Aang chuckled darkly and hooked one of her legs over his shoulder, thrusting deeper.
“So greedy,” he said, voice rough. “Taking me so well. You’re doing so fucking good for me, Katara.”
The new angle had her seeing stars. He fucked her harder, faster, the sound of skin slapping and her desperate moans filling the room. When he reached between them and sucked on her tits, she came again with a sharp cry, pulsing around his cock.
“That’s my girl,” he groaned, chasing his own release. “Come on me just like that–fuck–”
He buried himself deep and came hard, hips stuttering as he spilled inside her, low moans of her name vibrating against her neck.
They stayed locked together, breathing hard. Aang eventually pulled out gently and collapsed beside her, immediately pulling her into his arms. “You okay?” he asked softly, the dominance melting back into gentle affection.
Katara smiled, curling into his chest. “More than okay. I feel better than ever.”
He laughed quietly, pressing another kiss to her hair. “Good. Because we’re nowhere near done tonight. I’ve got years of wanting you to make up for it.”
He gave her a minute to breathe, he kissed her forehead, then her swollen lips, hands stroking soothingly over the marks he’d left.
“Any pain?” he asked quietly.
“Just sore, but in a good way,” she whispered.
Aang smiled and kissed her again. “Okay. Stay here for a second.”
He slipped out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom. Katara heard the water running. A few moments later he returned, completely naked, and slid his arms under her body.
“Come on, sweetie. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her into the bathroom. The tub was already filling with warm water, steam rising gently. He’d put some of her bath salts, filling the air with a soft lavender scent.
Aang lowered her into the water first, supporting her back as she sank in with a long, grateful sigh. The heat immediately eased the ache between her legs and in her muscles.
“Too hot?” he asked, kneeling beside the tub.
“It’s perfect,” she breathed, eyes closed.
He smiled, pleased, then climbed in behind her. The water rose as he settled, pulling her back against his chest so she was nestled between his legs. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close.
For a while he just held her like that, then he started gently massaging her scalp.
“You were so good,” he whispered against her ear. “So beautiful when you fall apart for me. I could listen to you moan my name endlessly.”
Katara leaned her head back on his shoulder, she reached to kiss him on the lips, letting out a content sigh. He traced over the hickeys and bites he left.
“These look so pretty on you,” he murmured, a tinge of smugness in his voice.
He washed lower, promising not to tease. Still, Katara shivered and pressed back against him.
“Sensitive?” he laughed, kissing the side of her neck.
“Mhm.”
“I’ll be gentle,” he promised. He continued cleaning her with tender patience.
After rinsing her, he started massaging her scalp. Katara practically melted, soft moans slipping out.
“That feels so good,” she sighed.
“You deserve it,” he said, voice warm with affection. “Let me take care of you tonight.”
By the time he was done, Katara felt absolutely boneless.
Aang helped her out of the tub. He carried her back to the bedroom.
Once they were both dry and comfortable, he pulled her under the blankets and tucked her against his chest again. Skin to skin, warm and clean.
“Do you want water?” he offered.
She nodded. He gave her a glass of water.
“How do you feel now?” he asked.
“I feel like I could ascend,” she joked.
“Good.” He kissed her forehead.
Katara cuddled closer, curling tighter into him. Aang pulled the blanket higher around her shoulders and kept rubbing slow circles on her back.
“Sleep whenever you’re ready, sweetheart. I’ll be right here.”
He waited until her breathing evened out, completely content holding her in his arms.