Chapter Text
When the quiet kid from her English class went flying through a bedroom window on the top floor of the house, Katara regretted every decision she’d ever made that led her here.
“I told you you’d live!” a voice shouted from the now busted window.
Katara looked up to see yet another stranger poking his head out of the busted window, laughing at the quiet kid who was still lying dazed in the bushes underneath the window. She sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of her nose. This was a mistake, she knew it would be a mistake when she agreed to come and yet, she’d let Suki talk her into it anyway. Serves her right for being easily influenced.
It was homecoming weekend, and not only that, it was Katara’s first homecoming weekend. An event deemed so spectacular by Sokka and Suki that they’d demanded she come to the party with them. Sokka of course was the one who got the invite, as he was two years older than her and more popular than she could ever hope to be. Suki, Katara thought, had just wanted to torment her and back up Sokka at Katara’s expense. Suki was a year older than Katara and had been her best friend since she’d moved onto her street when they were kids. Lately however, Suki had started siding with Sokka more and more which was pissing her off because Suki was supposed to be her friend, not help her stupid brother tease her even more than he already did.
She took a deep breath and tried to give her friend some grace, Suki had accidentally sort of confessed to harboring a secret crush on Sokka the last time she’d gotten high at their house. Katara, who’d finally given in to curiosity and was knuckle deep in a bag of chips at the time, had merely blinked in shock at Suki’s confession. They went to sleep after their high started to wear off and in the morning neither girl had brought it up. It stayed one of those unspoken moments that sometimes happens between friends.
Katara focused back on the present, which meant focusing on the crowd of half-drunk rowdy teenagers pouring from some football player’s house. Katara thought vaguely that it might be Jet’s house, one of the football players Sokka sort of knew, but she wasn’t sure. Sokka had abandoned her as soon as he’d parked the car, and Suki had sort of drifted away in the crowd as the night had carried on. Katara knew she could just call Suki and see where in the house she was at, but the thought of wading through the endless throng of strangers made her clam up, and so she decided to remain parked outside on the lawn. Unfortunately, what Katara didn’t realize, was that the lawn is where the drunkest party occupants had gathered.
There was a keg in the back yard, which meant that partygoers could get wasted in the back yard and then wander up to the front lawn when they were too wasted to find their way back inside. Katara tried her best to dodge the drunken partiers, she wished she’d just stayed at home and watched movies. Maybe she could’ve seen if her and Sokka’s friend Aang, well friend was a nice way of saying Katara used to babysit him, wanted to hang out, anything would be better than being stuck at this miserable party.
“Duude, you gotta try this,” someone to her right said. Katara turned to see the kind of mousy girl Meng that sat in the back of her algebra class. Meng was short with wild, untamed curly hair and thick framed cat eyeglasses. Katara thought she looked like the world’s youngest librarian.
“Is there alcohol in it?” Katara asked, before she really thought about it. She didn’t necessarily mind drinking, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to drink around all these strangers.
“I don’ think so, it tastes too good for there to be a buncha booze in it,” Meng said, shoving her fully filled solo cup into Katara’s hands. “I gotta go to the bathroom, just drink the rest of that and I’ll get ‘nother one.”
Before she could protest, Meng trotted off into the house and Katara was left on the front lawn swirling the bright red punch around in her cup. She knew that there had to be some kind of alcohol in there, but maybe it wasn’t that much. She thought back to her earlier conversation with Suki where her friend had told her gently but firmly, “you really need to expand your social life Katara, watching Jeopardy with your Gran-Gran and babysitting Aang doesn’t count as a social life.” Katara had wanted to protest that she hadn’t really babysat Aang since he’d turned eleven, but she didn’t think that was gonna be the defense she thought it was, so she’d merely nodded in defeat.
Shrugging, Katara took a drink.
And then another.
And then another.
And then the cup was empty and Katara was giggling at the loud music bursting out of the house.
There was just something so absurd about it, how loud it was. It was rattling the windowpanes. She wondered if the neighbors would snitch to Jet’s or whoever’s house this was parents. Normally, the thought would send her into a panic, but right now she thought it was the funniest thing in the world.
She looked around the lawn again, more drunk people were loitering, and a few smokers were hanging out by the cars. The thought suddenly crossed her mind that she needed to find Suki, because Suki was her friend, and she would understand why the loud music was so funny. She also might have weed, and Katara decided that she really, really wanted some weed.
Stumbling only a little, she managed to work her way through the lawn and into the house full of people. Only, even in her tipsy state, the house was still way too crowded for her taste. She tried wriggling through any opening in the crowd that she could find, but people were too packed in either dancing or talking or, unfortunately, heavily making out in the darkened corners of the room. Katara made it through to the middle of the living room and sighed heavily, she couldn’t see her brother, or her friend and she was annoyed. Even the alcohol couldn’t scrub the sting out of her annoyance. Before she could continue her search however, someone threw a football from the other side of the room, and the person trying to catch it fumbled it and knocked into the tall girl in heels standing next to Katara. Unfortunately, tall girl had two cups full of punch in her hands and went flying into Katara after football kid ran into her.
It took just a few seconds for Katara to register her ruined t-shirt and the splotches of punch in her hair. Somehow, the punch had nearly completely drenched her, which sort of ruined the nice buzz she’d had going. Tall Girl tried to apologize, but Katara huffed and shouldered her way through the crowd, too upset to listen. She made it back out onto the lawn and looked forlornly down at her shirt, it’d been an old band tee shirt of her mom’s, one of the few things she had left of her outside of a beloved necklace, and now it was stained with bright red punch. Katara stomped through the lawn and tried not to cry, she knew it was stupid to cry over a tee shirt, but she couldn’t help it. It’d been her mom’s. Who’d died when Katara was five.
All the sudden Katara couldn’t see where she was going and when she got to Sokka’s car, or at least what she thought was Sokka’s car, she angrily kicked the front tire and then immediately regretted i
“Fuck!” She grabbed her foot, probably looking incredibly foolish as she tried to keep herself balanced in her kind of messed up state.
“I don’t know what my truck did to piss you off, but can you maybe not do that again?” someone said.
Katara snapped her head up to see a boy, maybe in Sokka’s grade she thought, looking at her from the other side of his car. He’d clearly been in the driver’s seat when Katara had assaulted his car, and now he was leaning over the hood looking exasperated.
“Shit, I—sorry. I thought it was my brother’s car.”
“Really? You mistook the black pick-up truck for your brother’s car?” He asked. Now that Katara wasn’t grabbing at her sore foot and trying to keep from falling, she could see him a lot better. She had seconds to take in the unruly dark hair and the tattered jean jacket before she noticed the scar that covered the entirety of his left eye.
Oh.
She knew exactly who’s car she’d kicked, and she instantly regretted it. It wasn’t that Zuko, that was the guy’s name, was like, the worst person ever. It was more so that he was moody and generally unpleasant to be around at any time. Katara only knew this because Sokka had been in school with Zuko his whole life, and Katara had been in school with Zuko’s sister Azula her whole life. Azula, Katara knew from personal experience, made Zuko look like Mister fucking Sunshine.
“Shit—sorry, I just. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Yeah, no fucking kidding,” Zuko snapped.
“You don’t have to be such a dickhead about it, I said I was sorry! I couldn’t really see where I was going.” Katara snapped back, feeling annoyed at Zuko’s unwarranted hatefulness.
"Are you that drunk?” Zuko asked, looking slightly surprised.
“No asshole I’m only kind of drunk!” Katara yelled, not really caring who heard. “And I couldn’t see because some fucking asshole threw a fucking football in the house and then this fucking giant in giant fucking heels fell into me and poured her punch all over my fucking shirt!”
“I don’t know if I’ve ever heard anyone use ‘fucking’ that much in one sentence,” was all Zuko said to her impassioned outburst.
Katara felt her face heat with indignation, “Shut up, dickhead.”
“Jesus Christ,” Zuko wiped an exasperated hand down his face and sighed, “well as much fun as it’s been to watch you kick the shit out of my tire and then yell at me for it, I’ve gotta get going.”
For some reason, and Katara until her dying day would blame the alcohol, Katara ignored everything Zuko had just said and simply looked back down at her mother’s ruined tee shirt.
“It’s my mom’s shirt.”
“What?” Zuko asked, clearly not expecting that.
“The tee shirt, it’s my mom’s and its ruined.” Katara said feeling stupid and choked up.
“Well, I’m sure she’ll find it in her heart to forgive you.” Zuko said sarcastically, opening the door to his truck.
“She’s dead asshole.” Her voice lacked the intensity from when she’d told him off the last time, instead she just sounded hollow and sad.
Something in Zuko’s expression changed, just ever so slightly, and he sighed a deep and long-suffering sigh.
“Get in.”
“What?”
“Get in the truck, I’ll take you home.”
“No way, I barely know you and no offense, but I don’t wanna talk to your psychotic sister.”
“No offense taken, I’m on your side with that one. But just get in the car Katara, I can tell you wanna leave.”
“How do you know my name?” Katara asked suspiciously.
“I know your brother, now stop wasting my time and get your ass in the truck,” Zuko snapped, any earlier friendliness immediately vanishing.
Katara scowled and opened her mouth to tell Zuko to shove-it, but instead she said “Okay.”
Zuko looked surprised that she agreed, and she was even more surprised. But, she was wet from the punch and getting colder since the sun had gone down a while ago, and Sokka and Suki were still nowhere to be found. Katara opened the door to Zuko’s truck and threw herself into the passenger seat, resisting the urge to cross her arms over her chest like a grumpy, scolded child. Zuko got in and turned the nearly ancient pick-up on, and for a second Katara doubted it would even start. Sure enough though, the truck started and soon they were on their way.
“Where do you live?”
“Across town, at the Tree Streets.” Katara said feeling heat rise to her face. She vaguely knew Zuko’s family came from money, mostly because Azula loved to brag about it, and that he most likely lived in a really nice house in one of the fancy Omashu Estate houses. But Katara and Sokka lived with their grandmother on the Tree Streets, the not rich and fancy part of town.
Zuko didn’t react though, he simply turned down the radio to a less ear drum damaging level. They drove in silence for a while, which left Katara nothing to do but fiddle with her fingers and check her phone every five seconds. She’d texted Suki as soon as she’d gotten into the truck but was waiting to text Sokka. Sokka was a dumbass, but he liked to think himself a protective dumbass, and she knew he’d overreact.
“So, your mom was an Eagles fan?” Zuko asked, breaking the silence.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“How old were you?”
“Five.”
There was a pause.
“I was eleven.”
Katara fully turned in her seat at that, “What?”
Zuko never took his eyes off the road, which left Katara staring at the in-tact side of his face. He wasn’t terrible looking she thought, when he wasn’t scowling.
“My mom, she left when I was eleven. I don’t know if she’s still living or not, and its not the same but… yeah.”
Suddenly, Katara felt very smothered by the sudden vulnerable turn their interaction had taken. “I’m sorry. I know how much it sucks to not have your mom around,” was all she said.
Zuko nodded. “Yeah. So, she was an Eagles fan?”
Katara, grateful for the subject change, shrugged. “I guess so. I’ve found a few of their CDs in her stuff. When our dad was deployed overseas, we boxed all of their stuff up and moved in with my grandmother.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
"Well, the Eagles are alright I guess.”
“They’re alright?” Katara asked. She knew a few songs, but she wasn’t a fan. She liked slower, calmer music. Sokka called it her ‘sad indie girl shit’ but she didn’t care. Despite her indifference to the Eagles though, she found herself defensive of her mom’s possible music taste.
“Yeah, I mean, if you’re into whiny classic radio rock.”
Katara scoffed. “So, what do you listen to Mr. Cool?”
Zuko rolled his eyes. “That was more embarrassing for you than anything.”
She crossed her arms. “That still doesn’t answer my question.”
“I like the old stuff sure, but the dirtier, garage rock is better.”
“What do you mean by that?” Katara asked, genuinely curious.
“I dunno, like early White Stripes, early Green Day, that stuff.”
“Oh, so it’s only cool if you like the ‘early’ stuff from wildly popular bands?”
Zuko rolled his eyes, “That’s not what I said!”
“Sounded that way to me!”
“Jesus Christ, you’re impossible.”
“You’re the one who offered me the ride.” Katara said, effectively ending the conversation. It was about time too, they were getting closer to the Tree Streets, which meant Katara had to start actually navigating.
“It’s the Banyan Grove Tree street, third house on the left,” Katara instructed. Her phone screen finally lit up with three texts from Suki and five texts from Sokka. She guessed Suki had broken the news to Sokka.
Zuko pulled up to the curb in front of her house and turned to look at her.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“Thanks for kicking the tire instead of the door.”
“I said I was sorry!”
“I was thanking you!”
Katara groaned in frustration and popped the passenger side door open.
“Well, thanks for the ride. I hope we never have to share such close quarters again.”
“Likewise.”
And Katara got her wish, they didn’t share close quarters again. Until.