Title: through hell and high water.
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender.
Characters: Katara/Zuko.
Prompt: Rumour.
Rating: PG.
Length: 855.
Content warnings: N/A.
Author’s notes: Set after 3x17: The Ember Island Players. Also written for the prompt "torn." Title is from Coleman Hell’s "Fireproof."
Summary: Katara tears her skirt and Zuko helps her fix it.


He finds Katara on the steps of the beach house.

She looks like she’s about to roll down the steps with how she’s bent over her lap, her nose almost touching her knees. He sees she’s thrown her skirt roughly over her legs and is struggling to guide red thread into the eye of a small needle.

Zuko quietly sits down beside her and gently takes her skirt from her. He lays it out across his lap and holds his hand out, palm up, for her to place the needle. While he knows Katara’s more than capable, he figures every threadbender has a bad day.

He doesn’t blame her. Sozin’s Comet is just on the horizon. He can feel it burning through the sky.

Eyeing his palm for a moment, she delicately places the needle within the lifelines of his hands. The metal is cold; he briefly wonders if she had been chilling it with her waterbending.

Katara eyes him suspiciously before her brow crinkles. "You can fix it?"

He chuckles. "Why do you seem so surprised?" He pulls the thread through the eye of the needle easily and presses the tip into the fabric. "I know how to fix things."

"I just…" she shakes her head, heat rising to her cheeks. He watches her from the corner of his eye as she tries to pull her hair in front of her to obscure her from his vision.

He’s learned quickly that Katara does that when she doesn’t want to be seen. Sometimes Sokka obeys her quiet request, but most of the time, he’s in her face, pulling her hands away from her hair. He remembers how Azula used to try and shield his eyes with his long hair.

"You thought because I was a prince I didn’t know how to fix things."

Her flush only deepens.

"It’s okay," he says with a light laugh. She looks at him, eyes wide and relief on her face. "My mom used to teach me how to sew. It was one of the things we did together."

"Really?" she says, voice warm. His heart flutters like a flutter bat.

He nods. "I used to sew ducks into everything." It’s his turn to glance away and to hide his blush beneath his thick fringe.

Katara smiles warmly. "That’s cute, Zuko."

He flushes red. Keeping his head down, he delicately sews the tear in her skirt together. He keeps his stitches small and pokes his tongue out at the corner of his mouth for a few moments.

"I bet you had to learn when you were with your Uncle, huh?"

"Yeah," he says, voice low. Thinking of Uncle Iroh only makes him feel hot with shame. "We didn’t have people to do it for us. He used to make me sew all of his tears. I used to think he tore his clothes on purpose just so I’d have something else to do that wasn’t… tracking down Aang."

"I think it’s cool," she says with a shrug. He looks at her in surprise and smiles softly. "You’re a prince who wants to do normal things. You wanted to help your uncle…"

His scoff escapes him. "Look at where that got him." He pauses his ministrations, placing the needle on his lap. He doesn’t want to ruin her skirt. The tear is slowly healing itself back together beneath his palms; he’s so tired of destroying things.

"Hey, Zuko," she says, reaching out to brush her hand against his arm. Her fingertips are cold, but not uncomfortable. The hairs on his arms begin to rise.

He pauses and looks at her with a furrowed brow, eying her hand. She smiles at him and squeezes his arm softly. She says gently, "Your uncle will be okay. I think that’s cool of you to want to help him. You still do."

Zuko picks up the needle and starts to stitch her torn skirt back together. He thinks it looks better than it did before. While it may not look as seamless as it did before she tore it, he’s coming to appreciate scars. Katara is, too.

Removing her hand from his arm, he catches her glancing at him and eying his scar. For once, Zuko doesn’t try to hide it. He lifts his hand to brush his hair away from his face.

Keeping his gaze down, he arches his brow and teases, "You don’t think it’s hot of me?’

Water droplets spring from her hands and cling to his skin. She looks at him with wide eyes and a deepening blush. "W-what?"

"I’m a firebender," he says, laughing. "I’m not a waterbender. I don’t run cool like you."

He does think red looks pretty on her cheeks, though.

"Oh!" She brushes her hands through her hair, tugging at the ends. She laughs, although he can tell it’s threaded with embarrassment and relief. "Yeah, of course. You run hot and I run…"

"Cool."

Katara shakes her head and waves her hand dismissively, brushing her fingers behind her neck. "I’m not cool."

He shrugs. "I think you are."

She looks at him and smiles.