052. Parents
Author: brokenpencils
Prompt: 052. Parents
Title: I am bad with titles.
Word Count: 1091
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: I don't know if I really like this, it struck me as overly cheesy and fan girl-ish. but you know what? THAT'S OKAY. FOR NOW. But seriously, I am eventually going to use that thing they call a "plot". Someday, someday. Also, I'm sorry if this is a little long to be posting here, I'm gonna get an account on ff.net and post my longer stories there instead.
After tonight, Zuko was seriously debating whether or not he should ever knock Katara up again. As in, ever.
Pregnant women were an absolute horror when they were upset about something -- real or imagined, logical or not -- and his Katara, though certainly not an average woman by any definition of the word, was no exception.
Zuko had always prided himself on his stubborness, his resolute determination to always be right, always be in control. But ever since he had started a relationship with Katara, that old philosophy had rapidly fallen away, especially since she had announced her pregnancy seven-and-a-half months ago. It had gotten so bad that Zuko found himself apologizing without so much as a wince just to avoid yet another explosive argument that ended with Katara throwing deadly objects at Zuko's head and Zuko having to find someplace else to sleep.
But that night had just been the last straw. Zuko just could not do anything right in the eyes of his pregnant wife, and quite frankly, Zuko was getting a little sick of it. That old temper had finally blasted through, and after spending several hours screaming at each other, Katara had thrown her hands up in defeat.
"After this baby comes out, I'm taking it and everything else that's mine and WE ARE LEAVING YOU!" she had screamed out, so angry and icy that Zuko had stopped in his tracks. Silence ensued, and Katara set her jaw determinedly. Zuko was speechless -- she'd never said such a thing before, and he was fighting to keep the panic from bubbling out through his throat. Finally, unable to come up with a suitable reply, Zuko had turned on his heel and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. "I didn't want you sleeping here anyway! Ever again!" she'd called out to his retreating form, but Zuko still said nothing.
Zuko assumed that the only reason no one had come to check on them (Zuko and Katara were quite loud) was because everyone else within a fifty mile radius was absolutely terrified of his pregnant wife.
Zuko fidgeted uncomfortably on the mat. It had been at least two months months since they had last had a fight nasty enough for Katara to turn Zuko away from their bed, and by now Zuko had forgotten about how lumpy that damn sleeping mat was, how cold it was without Katara and the baby pressed flush against him, how awkward his body felt to be falling asleep alone. Alone.
Oh, but the memories were rapidly coming back to him. Zuko had spent the last three hours rolling around on the mat. He'd spent the first hour seething with anger over Katara's hurtful words, whispering spiteful, childish comebacks into his pillow. He'd proceeded to spend the second hour struggling not to cry, finally letting her words pierce his heart, and wondering if Katara had been serious, if she was really going to take the baby and leave him after its birth. In the third hour Zuko had found himself sobbing violently against his sheets, now rumpled and damp with warm, salty liquid. Now, in the fourth hour, Zuko lay staring up at the ceiling, hiccuping and sniffling in the aftermath of his tears (but don't tell anyone), his lids heavy and swollen from the saltiness and the sadness.
It was two in the morning. Zuko finally let his eyes close all the way, hoping that sleep would help him reclaim some semblance of dignity by morning. Fatigue settled slow and deep into his system, and despite the loneliness, Zuko felt himself falling asleep.
And that's when he felt the rustling, the not-so-subtle shifting, on the mat behind him. A small hand gently nudged at his shoulder, and Zuko opened his tired eyes to see Katara peering over at him. Instead of the scowl that Zuko expected to be on her face, Katara looked just as tired as he, her eyes also red and puffy, her lips turned down in an adorable, but sorrowful, pout.
"We can't sleep without you," Katara whispered, her voice hoarse and raspy, indicating that she, too, had been crying. Zuko, despite his lingering anger, softened, just a little. "The baby keeps moving, and I'm cold."
The anger once again flashed through Zuko's system, her words echoing in his head. Forcibly pushing those thoughts away, Zuko carefully pulled Katara down next to him, turning her over and pressing his chest against her back. The delicious feeling of spooning her overcame him, and Zuko settled his cheek into her locks despite himself.
"I'm sorry," Katara turned her face back a bit, so she could see part of his face. "Zuko?"
Zuko closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Katara."
"I didn't mean what I said. I wouldn't -- I couldn't -- leave you," Katara yawned.
"I didn't mean what I said, either," Zuko hushed, relishing in the feel of Katara snuggling against him in an effort to get warm. All at once, he felt exhaustion pour through his body, felt his knees slacken beneath the blankets as Katara entwined her legs with his. The knots in his chest loosened, and Zuko felt as if his body was melting into the sleeping mat, into the warm body wrapped up in his own.
"I hate going to sleep angry," Katara continued, softly but almost deliriously, she was so tired. "Because... because I keep thinking about you, and the baby knows it and he... she... can't sleep either." Zuko said nothing in reply, content to let her ramble on only half-awake. "And because... you're not supposed to go to sleep angry."
"No," Zuko whispered in agreement, eyes still closed, arms still wound comfortably, protectively, beseechingly around Katara. He reached over and rubbed a hand in careful circles around her belly.
"Not angry... anymore." There was a long pause and Zuko slitted one eye open, wondering if she had fallen asleep, but then Katara managed to find her voice again. "Not angry anymore," she repeated. "So... maybe we can sleep now."
"I love you," Zuko managed to mumble in the darkness, the aforementioned sleep threatening to end their conversation.
"Thank you for putting up with me," Katara finally finished.
Zuko inhaled her wonderfully salty, deliciously sweet scent, cuddling Katara close. "I love you," he echoed, knowing that the fight was already over, that the exchange of hurtful words was just some distant memory, one that would be gone by the time the sun rose.
"I love you, too," answered Katara, making a few more sleepy, incoherent mumbles before drifting off to sleep, and after several more moments, Zuko finally joined her.
Prompt: 052. Parents
Title: I am bad with titles.
Word Count: 1091
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: I don't know if I really like this, it struck me as overly cheesy and fan girl-ish. but you know what? THAT'S OKAY. FOR NOW. But seriously, I am eventually going to use that thing they call a "plot". Someday, someday. Also, I'm sorry if this is a little long to be posting here, I'm gonna get an account on ff.net and post my longer stories there instead.
After tonight, Zuko was seriously debating whether or not he should ever knock Katara up again. As in, ever.
Pregnant women were an absolute horror when they were upset about something -- real or imagined, logical or not -- and his Katara, though certainly not an average woman by any definition of the word, was no exception.
Zuko had always prided himself on his stubborness, his resolute determination to always be right, always be in control. But ever since he had started a relationship with Katara, that old philosophy had rapidly fallen away, especially since she had announced her pregnancy seven-and-a-half months ago. It had gotten so bad that Zuko found himself apologizing without so much as a wince just to avoid yet another explosive argument that ended with Katara throwing deadly objects at Zuko's head and Zuko having to find someplace else to sleep.
But that night had just been the last straw. Zuko just could not do anything right in the eyes of his pregnant wife, and quite frankly, Zuko was getting a little sick of it. That old temper had finally blasted through, and after spending several hours screaming at each other, Katara had thrown her hands up in defeat.
"After this baby comes out, I'm taking it and everything else that's mine and WE ARE LEAVING YOU!" she had screamed out, so angry and icy that Zuko had stopped in his tracks. Silence ensued, and Katara set her jaw determinedly. Zuko was speechless -- she'd never said such a thing before, and he was fighting to keep the panic from bubbling out through his throat. Finally, unable to come up with a suitable reply, Zuko had turned on his heel and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. "I didn't want you sleeping here anyway! Ever again!" she'd called out to his retreating form, but Zuko still said nothing.
Zuko assumed that the only reason no one had come to check on them (Zuko and Katara were quite loud) was because everyone else within a fifty mile radius was absolutely terrified of his pregnant wife.
Zuko fidgeted uncomfortably on the mat. It had been at least two months months since they had last had a fight nasty enough for Katara to turn Zuko away from their bed, and by now Zuko had forgotten about how lumpy that damn sleeping mat was, how cold it was without Katara and the baby pressed flush against him, how awkward his body felt to be falling asleep alone. Alone.
Oh, but the memories were rapidly coming back to him. Zuko had spent the last three hours rolling around on the mat. He'd spent the first hour seething with anger over Katara's hurtful words, whispering spiteful, childish comebacks into his pillow. He'd proceeded to spend the second hour struggling not to cry, finally letting her words pierce his heart, and wondering if Katara had been serious, if she was really going to take the baby and leave him after its birth. In the third hour Zuko had found himself sobbing violently against his sheets, now rumpled and damp with warm, salty liquid. Now, in the fourth hour, Zuko lay staring up at the ceiling, hiccuping and sniffling in the aftermath of his tears (but don't tell anyone), his lids heavy and swollen from the saltiness and the sadness.
It was two in the morning. Zuko finally let his eyes close all the way, hoping that sleep would help him reclaim some semblance of dignity by morning. Fatigue settled slow and deep into his system, and despite the loneliness, Zuko felt himself falling asleep.
And that's when he felt the rustling, the not-so-subtle shifting, on the mat behind him. A small hand gently nudged at his shoulder, and Zuko opened his tired eyes to see Katara peering over at him. Instead of the scowl that Zuko expected to be on her face, Katara looked just as tired as he, her eyes also red and puffy, her lips turned down in an adorable, but sorrowful, pout.
"We can't sleep without you," Katara whispered, her voice hoarse and raspy, indicating that she, too, had been crying. Zuko, despite his lingering anger, softened, just a little. "The baby keeps moving, and I'm cold."
The anger once again flashed through Zuko's system, her words echoing in his head. Forcibly pushing those thoughts away, Zuko carefully pulled Katara down next to him, turning her over and pressing his chest against her back. The delicious feeling of spooning her overcame him, and Zuko settled his cheek into her locks despite himself.
"I'm sorry," Katara turned her face back a bit, so she could see part of his face. "Zuko?"
Zuko closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Katara."
"I didn't mean what I said. I wouldn't -- I couldn't -- leave you," Katara yawned.
"I didn't mean what I said, either," Zuko hushed, relishing in the feel of Katara snuggling against him in an effort to get warm. All at once, he felt exhaustion pour through his body, felt his knees slacken beneath the blankets as Katara entwined her legs with his. The knots in his chest loosened, and Zuko felt as if his body was melting into the sleeping mat, into the warm body wrapped up in his own.
"I hate going to sleep angry," Katara continued, softly but almost deliriously, she was so tired. "Because... because I keep thinking about you, and the baby knows it and he... she... can't sleep either." Zuko said nothing in reply, content to let her ramble on only half-awake. "And because... you're not supposed to go to sleep angry."
"No," Zuko whispered in agreement, eyes still closed, arms still wound comfortably, protectively, beseechingly around Katara. He reached over and rubbed a hand in careful circles around her belly.
"Not angry... anymore." There was a long pause and Zuko slitted one eye open, wondering if she had fallen asleep, but then Katara managed to find her voice again. "Not angry anymore," she repeated. "So... maybe we can sleep now."
"I love you," Zuko managed to mumble in the darkness, the aforementioned sleep threatening to end their conversation.
"Thank you for putting up with me," Katara finally finished.
Zuko inhaled her wonderfully salty, deliciously sweet scent, cuddling Katara close. "I love you," he echoed, knowing that the fight was already over, that the exchange of hurtful words was just some distant memory, one that would be gone by the time the sun rose.
"I love you, too," answered Katara, making a few more sleepy, incoherent mumbles before drifting off to sleep, and after several more moments, Zuko finally joined her.