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taureandiaries · 6 months ago

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when you know, you know

tumblr fic: kataang. no war au. meet-cute. rated g.

The first time he meets her, he’s homesick.

It’s a strange feeling to verbalize. At first, he doesn’t recognize it. He’s never felt it before— the heavy-cold tug in his stomach, the snag in his heart that hints at something gone missing. It’s so intense that Aang has to press his palm to his chest, oblivious as Appa begins to descend to the icy tundra below.

Though not altogether too-far from the Southern Air Temple, the South Pole looks like a different planet to him. The land is covered in a thick sheet of white snow, and is entirely flat. The sky is a pale blue, almost white, and the sun blazes down with a ferocity that threatens to blind him, reflecting up from the snow. Through squinted eyes, Aang can make out a small group of Water Tribe men waiting for him, dressed in thick, blue parkas.

He forces a smile at them when Appa’s feet touch the ground, swallowing past the lump in his throat. A tall, handsome man stands ahead of the rest. His dark hair is partially braided, beaded, and he has a club made of sturdy whalebone slung across his back. He smiles back at him, which relaxes Aang somewhat.

“Avatar Aang,” he greets, extending his arm. Aang quickly slides off Appa and grasps it, his fingers winding around the man’s thick forearm for a moment. His touch is firm but gentle. “My name is Hakoda, Chief of the Southern Tribe. It’s an honor to have you with us.”

“It’s an honor to be here, sir.”

“An honor,” he continues. “As well as a surprise. I have to admit that I’m shocked you chose to train here. From what I’ve heard, Master Pakku was clamoring to have you in the North.”

Aang smiles thinly. He had met Pakku before when he visited the Southern Temple after the Monks’ announcement. The man was talented, definitely, but also harsh and swiftly embittered against him for his so-called laziness. Shortly after he left, Aang had told his masters that he wanted to try his luck with the teachers in the Southern Tribe. Luckily�� obviously— they accepted.

“I wanted to train somewhere a little closer to home,” Aang says. Which, at least, is partially true. He pats Appa’s back to stabilize himself against the thought, and is rewarded with an image of Gyatso, smiling at him from across a pai sho board. It makes a pang echo through him, tender like a bruise.

“I understand. I think you’ll find that the Water Tribes are very intimately acquainted with that feeling. Home and family are everything to us.”

Aang nods, swallowing again. What else is there to say?

“Can I introduce you to my men?” Hakoda asks. When he agrees, relieved at the change in subject, the Chief goes down the line. Aang bows with each greeting, dutifully respectful, but he notices the youngest warrior with interest. He had heard his Waterbending master would be young, around his age.

“I’m Sokka,” he says.

Aang studies him surreptitiously. He’s tall— though slightly shorter than himself— with dark hair tied back in a short ponytail and bright, blue eyes. He bears an uncanny resemblance to Hakoda, which the Chief acknowledges with a proud smile, a warm undercurrent to his voice. “My son.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sokka,” Aang says. They briefly grasp at each other’s forearms. “Will you be my Waterbending teacher?”

“Oh, no. I don’t have that magic touch.” Sokka mockingly waves his wrists. “That would be my sister. Katara.”

“Your sister?”

“My daughter,” Hakoda explains. “She’s a prodigy like you. She became a master at fourteen.”

Aang whistles, impressed. “That must mean she’s really good, then.”

“Very good. You’ll be in great hands.”

With that, they begin their trek back to the village. Aang leads Appa by the reins and makes conversation with the other warriors, who he finds generally warm and friendly. They have endless questions about the Southern Air Temple, Air Nomads, and Airbending itself, mystified by the power of a force that they cannot see. With every answer he gives them, Aang feels himself thawing, relaxing towards them. For the first time, his status as the Avatar doesn’t seem like a hindrance in his connection with others, but a bridge. Unlike the elder monks, the warriors certainly don’t seem to revere him in a way that reminds him of how hopelessly different his life is now. In fact, he thinks some of them might even want to be his friend.

Especially Sokka, who, despite his obvious skepticism towards spirituality, spends much of the trip endearing himself to Aang with stories of failed hunting expeditions and successful pranks against his sister. Instead of making him laugh, however, the latter makes him thoughtful.

“Can I ask you a question about her?”

“Sure,” Sokka shrugs.

“How is she? I mean, I met Master Pakku before, and I won’t lie to you, that didn’t go too well. So, I guess I’m just nervous that—”

Sokka lets out a short laugh and rolls his eyes. “Relax. I’ve met Pakku before. He’s an old, bitter asshole. Katara, on the other hand, while very annoying, is generally sweet and motherly. I guarantee she’ll take one look at you and your bald head and treat you like some little bird she found. Trust me, you’ll be fine.”

Aang nods, then frowns, his fingers fluttering over his arrow. He’s not sure he wants to be mothered, but he supposes anything is better than the constant dressing-downs Pakku enjoyed.

Within the hour, they finally make it back to the village. Aang can see the tall, icy walls that act as both its border and protection. Hakoda whistles a signal, and a Waterbender standing on the top opens a gap for them, gesturing for them to come inside. The village itself is large, filled with young men, women, and children, chasing each other around small fires and ice-packed, dome-shaped homes that Sokka tells him are called igloos. Though not as opulent as the North, Aang prefers the look of the Southern Tribe. The people here seem happier, less restricted, unburdened by the weight of rigid expectation.

He yearns for that.

“Avatar Aang!” Hakoda calls. “Come meet your teacher!”

A spike of anxiety pierces through him, and Aang whirls to see the Chief standing somewhere in the near distance, a young woman beside him, half-hidden behind the bulk of his body. He squints his eyes to make her out, but she’s a blurry figure. A spot of brown and blue against the white backdrop of snow. He can’t avoid her. This.

He shouldn’t want to avoid this.

Aang grits his teeth at his cowardice and pushes his foot forward, ignoring the frantic drumming of his heart. He tells himself that he has no reason to be nervous, that he’s good at this. At bending. At people. He tells himself that he will have fun here, that he will make himself. That he will ride penguins, and laugh, and study, and be diligent, and accept the albatross around his neck. He tells himself that—

Nothing.

He steps around Hakoda, putting on his brave face, and looks down at her— Katara— and feels everything solid in him melt. The air stills in his lungs, hapless, twisting painfully when she smiles at him with her full, pretty mouth.

The irony doesn’t escape him. Has an Airbender ever been breathless before?

“Avatar Aang,” she says, bowing at the waist. Her voice is as lovely as her face, feminine but sure. “It’s an honor to finally meet you. My name is Katara.”

A moment passes in silence. Hakoda sends him a questioning glance, and Aang feels his cheeks heat. Speak, he reminds himself.

“I— I-It’s an honor to meet you, too.” He bows in turn and breathes hard through his nose, trying to center himself. When he blinks, he can see the smooth brown of her skin, her striking blue eyes, behind his lids. He’s never been drunk before, but he feels some whisper of that haziness. “And… I knew your name. Your brother told me.”

“Sokka?” she asks wryly. “Oh, dear. What else did he say?”

Aang smiles at her. Finally, his brain is catching up to him. “Nothing bad, I promise. Only that you were a better teacher than Pakku.”

“Like that’s a high bar to clear.”

“Have you met him?”

“Only once,” she says ruefully, and crosses her arms. “During a tribal meeting. He’s a very—“

“Particular man?”

“Big asshole,” she finishes, which makes him laugh. A twinkle enters her eyes. “He didn’t like me at all. But he’s a good Waterbender.”

“If your dad is to be believed,” Aang says, glancing at him, now having drifted away to Bato— another warrior. “I bet you’re ten times better. He called you a prodigious talent.”

Katara shrugs modestly, but a pleased grin lights up her face like a sunrise, and Aang’s eyes linger on her again, caught, spellbound. He can’t quite put a name to what looking at her makes him feel, but it’s overwhelming. Like the rush of peering over the edge of a cliff, seconds before diving in.

She quirks a brow at him. “What?”

“What?”

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” she asks.

He immediately flushes, warm despite the weather. There is an errant instinct to reach for his mouth, to cover the stretch of it. “I was smiling?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh, I… uh.” He rubs the back of his neck, thinking about what he can say. I’m excited to learn Waterbending from you? It’s his safest bet, but somehow he lands on, “You’re really pretty.”

Katara blinks, clearly taken aback, which makes him want to die. It makes him want to burrow a hole beneath the snow and lie there, let it freeze him stiff as a corpse, but when she smiles again, wider, and flicks her eyes over him— once, twice— like she’s reevaluating him, he decides he’s okay with where he’s at.

“Oh, I know what this is,” she teases, putting her mittened hands over her hips. “You're trying to butter me up before training starts. You think it's going to make me be nicer to you.”

“Is it working?”

“No.” Unexpectedly, Katara steps up to him and slips her arm through his, her thin fingers resting over his bicep. Her expression turns coy, but all Aang can focus on is the point of contact between them. “I invite you to keep trying, though.”

Then, she drags him off to the training yard.

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