It's raining. No, that's an understatement; it's pouring sparrowkeets and lizardcats.

And where is Katara? Hiding from a certain insane Fire Nation Prince that is bent upon tearing this village apart brick by brick.

Katara has been crouched in the rain for hours, watching soldier after soldier pass the pile of rubbish that has become her hiding place. Her legs have stopped burning. In fact, she can't even feel them. She wonders, distantly, if her toes will catch a frost burn. It won't matter if Zuko finds her. Nothing much will matter at that point.

Nobody has passed her hiding place for an hour. She slides out, nearly slips on the slick cobblestones. It takes a few moments for her body to work properly, another moment to steady herself. Katara searches for snatches of red and black; for the ghostly white masks that have haunted her nightmares since childhood. She steps out of the alley, keeps to the far edges of the village square.

Maybe Zuko got tired of the rain and went home, she thinks. And maybe he grew wings and flew back to the Fire Nation. Unlikely. Katara decides that she really ought to stop thinking; she's barely on her feet as it is.

She creeps into an empty alley. She's finally reached the outskirts of the village, the forest waits beyond. Safety. Katara takes two steps, two weary and exhausted and soggy steps. Then she's tackled from behind and her face is suddenly becoming very intimate with the cobblestones. She recognizes his grip before his voice.

"Where is the Avatar?!" Zuko demands.

He drags her up, shoves her against the alley wall. His ridiculous pony tail (must she always be plagued with weird haired boys?) is plastered to his head; it looks like he's seen better days too. His eyes are ridiculously bright amongst the grey and cold and rain. He won't stop shouting at her.

"I'll never tell you anything!" she croaks, wondering exactly when her voice decided to give out.

"You will," Zuko threatens, "Or else."

"Or else what? You'll firebend at me?" Katara finds this very amusing, "I'm so cold I might beg you to."

Zuko blinks. It's clear that he hasn't expected this. It takes a moment for the surprise to leave his eyes and the angry glint to return.

"I can do horrible things to you," he threatens in a low voice, "Horrible…uh, horrible things…"

His grip tightens on her arms, nudges a leg between her own. They're both soaked through, but Zuko is feverishly warm. He growls at her, aiming to be threatening, but Katara has a hard time being frightened when her captor is struggling to blow his pony tail out of his face without his hands.

"What's the worse you could do?" she taunts, "Kiss me?"

"I might." He says.

And Katara thinks, challenge accepted. She lunges forward, touches her lips to his thin blue ones. She expects him to jerk away with embarrassment, probably disgust, and certainly anger. She's a peasant to him and throwing that back in his face will be worth any reaction.

She just doesn't expect him to kiss her. Or for his arms to encircle her waist, her arms around his neck. He's so warm and gentle, even if their teeth clack together and her first kiss is the most awkward thing ever. Katara pulls away first, but Zuko follows her and their second kiss is infinitely better than the first.

It's not until he's kissed her senseless, so warm and toasty that she thinks they might just burst into flames right there and then, that Katara realizes she doesn't want this to end. She wants to know why such and angry, horrible person can kiss so gently. She wants to know who Zuko is, ask him why must you capture the Avatar? Katara wants to understand the fire behind those eyes, but more than anything, really, she wants Zuko to kiss her again and again. Too bad that his uncle rounds the corner before she can open her mouth.

"Praise the spirits, Prince Zuko!" he declares, "I will have grand-nephews and nieces after all!"

There may be a sequel depending upon response :D