Katara loves the rain.

Really, she does. She's loved all forms of water ever since she was a child. Before her mother passed away, she had always joked that she'd given birth to a mermaid, not a human girl. She had learned how to swim before she could walk.

She loves the rain, but having one of her medical terminology papers ruined by the rain would definitely make her love it a little less.

So instead of staying outside and relishing the feel of water droplets against her skin as she normally would, Katara walks into the nearest building for protection, which just so happens to be a small teahouse.

A chime above the door rings as she enters, signaling her presence in the otherwise empty room.

It has a warm and cozy atmosphere, with a few tables and booths scattered around, and a counter at the back with a display of different kinds of pastries. There's a small Christmas tree in the corner, and a string of lights lines the walls.

"Hello?" a voice calls out, followed by a young man with tousled black hair and a large red scar on the left side of his face, walking out from one of the back rooms. He looks quite surprised at her presence, like he's never seen a customer before.

"Hi," Katara replies weakly, dragging her boots on the floor mat to dry them. "Sorry to intrude. I just needed something over my head to prevent these precious things from getting ruined." She holds up the stack of papers in her hands as an explanation.

"Jeez, you're soaked," the boy observes, as Katara sets her papers on the nearest table and runs her fingers through her dripping hair. He reaches behind the counter and takes a few towels off their hooks.

"Here. Catch." He tosses the towels over to Katara, who catches them with ease.

"Thank you," replies Katara, drying herself off with them.

There's a few clatters and sounds of cups clinking together, followed by the hum of a machine and the splash of water on a surface.

"You go to the local college?" the boy asks from behind the counter, tossing something into the trash.

"Yeah. Nursing." Katara drags out a chair and plops herself on it, leafing through all her papers.

"Impressive," is the boy's reply.

Katara scoffs. Damn right.

It's silent for a few more moments, until she hears footsteps behind her. A mug of steaming hot tea is placed in front of her.

She looks up at the man and smiles in gratitude. From this proximity, she can tell his scar is an old one— it's not angry or raw, it's settled into his skin. She also notices that his eyes are kind of gorgeous, amber speckled with flecks of gold.

"Thank you," she says gratefully, wrapping her hands around the mug. She brings the rim up to her lips and takes a sip. She can't help the noise that escapes her mouth afterwards. "This is amazing!"

The boy just shrugs his shoulders a little, an act of modesty.

"It's my uncle's brew. Every tea here is his, actually. All I do is add water," he tells her.

"A vital step in the tea making process, though."

At this, the boy gives Katara a crooked grin that's so adorable it makes her stomach twist— and no, it's definitely not the tea's doing.

"Were you on the way to class? It looks like the rain let up," says the boy. "Not that I'm trying to force you out of here, or anything— I just— I don't want to take up more of your time if you're already late."

She tries not to laugh at the boy's reddening face, shielding her growing smile with the cup of tea in her hands.

"I'm not taking any offense, don't worry," she reassures him, setting the cup on the table after regaining her composure. She glances out the window and finds that he's right. The sky is still gloomy, but the rain has stopped for now. "Although I do have to get going. Thank you for the tea."

She stands up, and after a bit of fishing in her purse, throws a five dollar bill on the table. The boy immediately starts to protest.

"No, you aren't charged for anything, you really don't have to—"

"Well, I want to," Katara states, already by the door. "What's your name, by the way?"

"Um, uh—" She can't help but laugh loudly as he attempts to shove the bill inside his pocket as discreetly as possible.

"Zuko," he finally manages. "It's Zuko."

"I'm Katara," she replies. "I'll see you around, Zuko."

She pushes the door open and walks out, giving him a small smile through the window.

The chimes echo throughout the room.

After a week of heavy storms and no business, the clouds finally roll out of the city and Uncle's teashop finally regains its steady stream of regular customers.

Zuko doesn't mind working at the teashop, in all honesty— he would take a few hours of Uncle's philosophical mumbo jumbo over living with his father any day— but the work does get a little monotonous. A small teashop located just across the street from a Starbucks doesn't really attract the most customers, and there are plenty of days where only a handful of people come in.

It's a Tuesday afternoon when he sees her again.

At first, he doesn't look up at the sound of the door chime— he's too busy fumbling in the cash register looking for the correct amount of change to give the customer in front of him (who the hell only had twenties in their wallet, anyways?)

He finally just gives up and throws some coins into the man's hand.

"There's your change. Seventeen dollars and thirty two cents," he says harshly. "Can I help the next customer?" he asks, despite the fact that there's hardly ever a next customer in line.

However, there happens to be one today— a young woman steps up to the counter as the present customer leaves the counter, muttering under his breath. She has a familiar face, with bright blue eyes and dark skin and a soft smile.

"Hi, Zuko!" she greets, toying with the strap of her wallet.

"Hey, Katara!" he replies, trying not to sound like he's been wishing every face that followed those door chimes was hers for an entire week.

(He totally hasn't.

His attempt fails either way.)

"What would you like?"

"Have any suggestions?" She smiles and he thinks he just might die right then and there.

(Here's a suggestion: kiss me.)

"Spiced Mandarin Oolong sound good?" he offers. Uncle had been going on and on about how it was perfect— the best blend he'd ever made.

"Oh, interesting," Katara ponders. "I'll take it."

She idly drums her fingers on the surface of the counter as Zuko busies himself with preparing her tea.

"Here you go." He slides over the mug at the same time she slides over a five dollar bill.

"I haven't even told you how much it is!" says Zuko.

"There's something called change," Katara replies with a smirk on her face, "Although I should've figured that'd be too much for you to handle, given your encounter with the poor man in front of me."

Zuko feels his face flame.

"I— I gave him his change eventually!"

Katara laughs and waves a reassuring hand.

"Relax, I was kidding," she informs him, although it doesn't do much to help fade the blush staining his cheeks.

He grabs Katara's change from the register and hands it to her, avoiding eye contact.

"Have a nice day," he tells her, busying himself with some packets of sugar.

"Have you had a break?" Katara asks. She hasn't even touched her drink yet.

Zuko freezes and looks up at her.

"What?"

"A break," she repeats. "Like, a break from working."

"Look, I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm the only one ever behind this counter," replies Zuko. He regrets the words as soon as them come out of his mouth. Shit. That was harsh. He has to restrain himself from slamming his head down on the counter.

Katara's eyes narrow a little bit and she tilts her head.

"Sorry," she says bitterly. "Jesus. I was just trying to be nice, and I thought that since there's not much business, you could take a break and we could have a conversation. But seeing as there's a huge stick up your ass, I guess that's not the case."

She snatches up the tea and walks out of the store before Zuko can even form another word.

The chiming of the bells is masked by the sound of his forehead finally hitting the surface of the counter.

Katara exhales sharply as she storms out of the teahouse, her breaths visible in the cold air.

Honestly, who the hell did he think he was? She was just trying to be nice, and she thought— she thought that he'd actually been interested in her, actually wanted to have a conversation—

Her thoughts stop midway and she freezes in the middle of the sidewalk as she takes a sip of the tea.

Shit. It's amazing. It's amazing. It's the best tea she's ever had. It's soothing and fruity and makes her throat tingle and soothes it at the same time…

She's not going back. She can't. Zuko is the only one who works there, as he had so kindly reminded her.

She tries to keep this in mind as she finishes the rest of her tea.

A week has passed since the incident at the teahouse, and it's the day before Christmas Eve, with thirty minutes until closing. The shop is empty, so Zuko is sweeping the floor, his head hung low in a way that shields his vision from the window.

He doesn't notice a figure pass by until the chimes ring and he whips his head up to check who it is, and the door collides with his face.

"Ohmygod, I'm so sorry!" Katara gasps, covering her mouth with one hand. "Shit! I'm so sorry, Zuko, I didn't mean to—"

Zuko groans loudly and rubs his forehead.

"Katara? What the hell are you doing here? I thought— I thought—"

"That you'd chased me away after that one day?"

Zuko winces, and he's not sure if it's from the pain in his skull or the memory of the incident. It's probably a little bit of both.

"Yeah. I'm really sorry about that, by the way. I didn't mean to be so harsh—"

"Whatever," says Katara, cutting him off. "I wasn't really planning on coming back, but I had to come to get some more of that Mandarin tea. I've succeeded in smacking your skull, though."

"It's fine, I'm fine," Zuko replies, standing up.

Woah. Too fast. The whole world spins and he clutches onto the nearest object for support, which just so happens to be Katara's arm.

"Fine. Right," Katara says. She doesn't seem to mind him clutching her arm, and instead leads him to one of the tables, where she kicks out a chair. "Here. Sit down."

He follows her command and she pulls up a chair next to him.

"Do you have ice, or something? And water? I have some painkillers in my purse, you can take those."

He tells her where they have the ice and water in the back with as much detail he can manage, while the throbbing in his head gets stronger.

He can hear her rummaging through the ice container and the trickle of water into a glass, and she appears by his side a few minutes later. She sets the water down on the table, along with a towel filled with ice, tied shut with what looks to be one of her hair ties.

She digs through her purse and pulls out a white pill bottle.

"Here, take two of these," she tells him, handing him the small pills.

He pauses, looks at the pills in his palm, and looks at Katara.

"What?" she asks defensively after seeing the hesitation on his face. "It's Tylenol! Do you seriously think I'm trying to kill you? I'm studying nursing, for Chrissake!"

He gives her a sheepish smile and takes the pills with a sip of water.

"This will help the redness," says Katara, leaning over and pressing the towel of ice onto his forehead. "I'm really sorry—"

"Don't apologize," Zuko tells her. "Just consider us even. I was an asshole to you, you got to smack me with a glass door. We're all good."

Katara laughs, and he's so close to her he can practically feel the vibrations in her chest. He suddenly feels lightheaded for an entirely different reason.

"So. Nursing. How's that going?" Zuko asks, for conversational purposes.

"It's tough," admits Katara, shifting her grip on the towel. "I love it, though. I couldn't dream of doing anything else."

It must be nice, knowing your place in the world. Zuko wishes he knew what to do with his life. He used to have it all, have everything in the world, before his dad kicked him out and his uncle took him in and they set up this small teahouse together. He loves it, and he loves Uncle, but he doesn't want to stay here forever. College is always an option, but he doesn't know what he wants to study.

They stay like that for a while, in silence. Then the ice in the towel begins to melt, droplets of water seeping through the fibers of cotton and trickling onto his skin.

"Whoops." Katara wipes the water falling down on his cheek with a swipe of her thumb, and the contact makes Zuko shiver. He knows Katara feels it by the small grin that forms on her face when she turns around to throw the ice in the sink.

"You came to get some more of that tea, right?" Zuko asks, getting up from the chair. The medicine must've already kicked in, because he feels better already.

"Hey, you should really stay still."

"I'm fine, seriously. I feel better," Zuko assures her. "It's not like getting you a cup of tea is strenuous work."

She gives him a small chuckle and doesn't protest any more.

He goes to the counter where she is and prepares a cup of the tea for her.

"Here." He sits on the counter and pats the space to him, holding out the cup for her to take.

She grabs it from him and takes a sip, sighing softly.

"It's so good," she tells him. "The best tea I've ever had."

"My uncle knows his tea."

"I've never seen your uncle around," she says, her mouth around the rim of the cup. "I need to thank him for creating this masterpiece."

"Oh, he usually at home coming up with different brews, but he comes around sometimes. I can tell you the next time he does."

"That'd be nice."

Katara sets down the now empty cup and hops off the counter, brushing off her blue skirt.

"Thank you, Zuko," she says. "I'd love to stay and talk, but it's past your closing time and I don't want to keep you here, or anything."

"Oh, no, it's fine," Zuko replies quickly. "Don't worry about it. Actually, I… kind of… are you busy?"

"No, not really."

"Do you want to go out on a date with me?" he spits out. Finally. "Dinner, the park, a movie, I don't care."

Katara looks at him with wide eyes, and then breaks out into a smile.

"I thought you'd never ask."

At the end of their date— a dinner at a small café downtown— the two of them are walking around, looking at the Christmas lights.

Well, attempting to, anyways. Zuko can't stop staring at Katara.

"What?" Katara asks, catching him in the act. "Do I have food stuck on my face?"

"No— I just— you're—"

He takes her face in his gloved hands and kisses her.

Katara is still for just one shocked moment, and then her hands are on the collar of his jacket, bringing him closer and her lips are moving against his and it's amazing, glorious, perfect.

Despite the fact that they've just had dinner, it's the taste of the tea she had back at the teahouse that stands out to him the most— orange and spice and sweet.

They pull apart to breathe and Zuko is grinning like an idiot at the thought in his mind.

"What?" Katara asks, laughing.

"What?" Zuko parrots back, still smiling. "I'm happy."

He leans in to kiss her again.

He'll thank Uncle later. Spiced Mandarin Oolong. Best tea in the world.

AN: This was my gift to alexandrabrodt on Tumblr for the Avatar Secret Santa 2014 exchange! This actually took me longer than expected, as I'm not used to writing fluff (especially for Zutara) and had quite a bit of difficulty with it, but hopefully it worked out okay? Happy Holidays to you all and I hope to hear your feedback!