This is the most selfless and generous thing Luffy has ever said

re:union (kataang week 2021) DAY FIVE

prompt: healing

re:union

chapter five: her hands, again

summary: "They sat in silence while Katara worked. Her hands guiding the glowing orb of water down his chi pathways, following the line of his arrows from the nape of his neck down his muscular arms to his wrists. The silence, Katara suspected, wasn’t helping keep the tremble out of her touch, keep her surgeon’s hands steady, but the thought of breaking the silence made her all the more antsy."

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It had really only been an hour.

Zuko realized, once he had regained his wits and dealt with the matters at hand, that he actually had no idea how Aang was with babies. He was the Avatar, though, and his closest friend. And really, it had only been an hour. Of course nothing could have gone wrong. Of course he trusted him with his daughter. Of course he did…

Returning to the Fire Nation embassy in a similar huff to the way in which he had left it, Zuko found two guilty looking pre-teens, one cradling a sleeping baby Izumi, the other preparing an ice-pack, hunched around a scowling and scraped up Aang.

“What did you two do to him?”

“Nothing! We were just playing out in the courtyard, and he wanted to show us some airbending trick, and well…”

“Kiyi tripped him.”

“I did not!”

“Did too!” Zuko surreptitiously snuck Izumi out of Tom Tom’s arms before Kiyi’s inevitable strike knocked the accusatory boy on his backside.

“Guys, guys! I’m fine, really. It turns out my air-scooter is just a little bit rusty. Absolutely not your fault.” The kids didn’t hear him, already a tangled pile of elbows and mean names on the floor. Aang met Zuko’s gaze with a glint of guilt in his eye. “How was your emergency?”

“It’s been handled. How were the kids?”

“Great! We had lots of fun!” Aang’s voice was cheerful, but his expression was pained. His attempt at easing Zuko’s worries with platitudes pushed through clenched teeth was not going to cut it, and he knew it.

“Clearly…” Zuko appraised his friend once more, realizing that he was clutching his left arm with his right rather awkwardly. He groaned. “I’ll send for Katara.”

⬭

Her hands were cold on his skin before she even bent the water from the basin up to meet them. They ghosted over his shoulder, tapped his collarbone, adjusted his elbow. Each spot she touched felt electrified. Each touch reminded him of the last time he had touched her. How familiar it had been. How formal this felt.

“How do you dislocate your shoulder with a bunch of kids?” Her voice was warm, amused, but not quite teasing, not quite yet.

“Oh, well… it was an accident really. Air-scooter…”

“Ah…”

“Yeah.” He instinctively brought his uninjured arm up to cover the infrared embarrassment emblazoned on his neck.

Upstairs, baby Izumi started to fuss. “Excuse me,” Zuko, pacing and clearly deep in thought on the other side of the room, cleared his throat. Taking his leave, Zuko glanced briefly at Aang and Katara, appraising the awkward tension between them and clicking his tongue at himself, realizing that, perhaps, he should have left them alone much sooner.

They sat in silence while Katara worked. Her hands guiding the glowing orb of water down his chi pathways, following the line of his arrows from the nape of his neck down his muscular arms to his wrists. The silence, Katara suspected, wasn’t helping keep the tremble out of her touch, keep her surgeon’s hands steady, but the thought of breaking the silence made her all the more antsy.

“It—It’s good to see you, Katara.” His voice broke as the silence broke with it.

She bent the water back into the nearby basin, deliberately turning away from him as she did it, knowing full well that her face was aflame.

“It’s good to see you too.” She still wasn’t facing him, nervously drying her hands on her skirt even though they were bone dry the moment she expelled the water from them. “You—you look older.” She immediately tensed up and bit her tongue, realizing how her comment could be misconstrued.

Aang, pushing through his own bouncing butterflies at the compliment and Katara’s resultant discomposure, chuckled. “What? I thought I was looking pretty good for my age! Not a day over 84, as far as I’m concerned.”

Katara spluttered, but she had turned to face him now, ignoring the blush that she was still sporting in favor of holding her own against his teasing. “I don’t know… you can’t even stay on your air scooter, Oldtimer. It might be time to put you out to pasture…”

Aang’s jaw dropped at the jab and he threw his arms, both now back in tip-top shape thanks to Katara’s healing, in the air. “I am young and sprightly, thank you very much! I only fell because the kids were distracting me!”

“Sure, Aang. I believe you.”

Aang fought the urge to stick his tongue out at Katara, only stopping himself when he caught her eye and realized how much she, too, looked older. Her body had filled out in places, her face had thinned out in places. Her eyes still sparkled with resilient hope, but they held more wisdom, more discernment. His breath caught in his open mouth and he sobered at the sight of her. “Honestly, I’m pretty out of practice. I, uh, haven’t really been doing much bending lately.”

“Not keeping up with your katas, pupil Aang?” She chided but her voice was soft and fond.

He omitted the fact that he had never missed a day of waterbending. Every evening he’d wade in whatever water he could find and feel the push and pull. It was a relief on days when everything around him felt like squishing and stretching. It was a relief on days when he missed her. He waterbended everyday.

In the other elements, though, he’d gotten lazy. Toph would probably chuck a boulder or two at him the next time he saw her, and Zuko would glare in that unnervingly disappointed way only he could. (Fatherhood, Aang thought, was well suited for Zuko.)

He had kept up more with his airbending, if only to show the acolytes and to navigate the haunts of his childhood in the way that they were designed. But he had to force himself, sometimes, to fly. It was less than exhilarating when he was surrounded only by memories of the people he once flew with.

He wanted to tell Katara about the times he would lie in the orchard on his back with Gyatso. How they would watch the birds coast through the air, drafting off of one another. “See how the birds always flock together? Flight is a communal activity, air is a communal element.”

He wanted to tell Katara about the games that they would play as children in the air on their gliders. Diving and diverting and drafting. Dancing around one another in the air to the music of the wind and their own laughter.

He wanted to tell Katara about the way that they spoke to one another, words flowing in on the wind, stories building upon stories, voices rising over voices.

He wanted to tell her how silent it had been. How empty. How even the birds had seemed to have abandon the place long ago.

“Just didn’t really have anyone to practice with.” He told her instead.

“Now you do! Come on.” He followed her out toward the harbor, wondering the whole way if it was too late to nonchalantly take her hand.

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look y'all! They spoke to one-another

@kataang-week

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter six

chapter seven

I’m Always Curious Part Eight

Previous Part | Next Part |  Masterlist Notes: Not beta-read. I hope everyone is well :) Thank you to everyone that’s read/liked/reblogged/replied! I really appreciate it! Summary: My walk to the shuttle and the ride back to the ship were wholly uneventful. If only things had stayed that way when I reached the ship. 

My fingers barely stopped tapping on the keyboard as the headphones were lifted off of my head. I paused the recording I’d been transcribing before I glanced over, doing a double-take at the sight of Una holding my headphones between her thumb and forefinger. “Hey,” I greeted, looking at the screen, “Give me...Two seconds...” I said, typing the phrase that I’d heard before she’d pulled my headphones off. I saved the file before I minimized the screen, turning in my chair to look at her. “What’s up?” I asked, watching her lean back against my desk. “I feel like I haven’t seen you since we docked,” She said, fingers absently smoothing over the controls on the headphones. “I’ve been keeping busy,” I excused. She quirked a brow. “So I’ve heard. You took Onafuwa‘s one-day intensive,” She said, raising her brow. I shrugged. "You and Spock both hold him in high esteem, and I never had occasion to take his courses while I was at the Academy. Figured it couldn’t hurt to see what you two were raving about. Well, as much as you and Spock ‘rave’.”

The left side of Una’s mouth lifted with amusement. "What is it you’re up to now, then?” She asked, glancing toward the screen. “Transcription speed exercises. Never hurts to brush up-- And I’ve got a lecture on Tamarian allegory in half an hour, so, helps keep my fingers warm.” “When the Captain told us to make the most of this week’s leave, I’m not sure that this is what he meant,” Una contemplated. I tipped my head to the side, briefly taken aback. “Are you disapproving of my studious plans? Is something wrong? Blink twice if we’re under attack.” Una rolled her eyes with such pronouncement that she rolled her head with it as well. “I simply mean that you ought to give yourself a little time to relax at some point.” “Well, this may be controversial, but I find Tamarian allegory incredibly relaxing.” Una looked wholly unconvinced as she set my headphones on the desk beside my keyboard. “I trust you don’t have any lectures scheduled for around seven tomorrow evening?” “Not as far as I know. Why?” “A few of us are going to Liquara. You’ve more than earned a drink, lieutenant,” Una straightened from the desk, flicking my forehead before leaving. I watched her go, rubbing at the spot on my forehead. I’d never gotten around to asking Una why she’d given me that look after Sandblossom, and she’d never raised any concerns with me. I’d assumed my studios pursuits would be entirely Una-approved, but apparently I’d judged that wrong, too. -- I hadn’t stayed in the long-range sensor lab so late since well before I’d completed my dissertation. After the lecture on Tamarian allegory, I’d grabbed a quick bite to eat before heading to the lab and settling in. I’d only planned on being there for a couple of hours, but I just kept putting off leaving, increasingly telling myself that I’d only be five more minutes. Unfortunately, before I knew it, I’d managed to ‘five more minutes’ myself right to two in the morning. I grumbled as I packed my things up. I’d only just gotten myself on a fairly regular Earth-time sleep schedule; this was my own fault, I knew that. My walk to the shuttle and the ride back to the ship were wholly uneventful. If only things had stayed that way when I reached the ship. It was late. Sure, some people were still up and about, maintaining schedules so that a readjust to late shifts wouldn’t screw them the following week, but the halls, for the most part, were quiet. That’s why his voice stuck out like a sore thumb. He wasn’t even speaking loudly -- but then, he didn’t have to. His voice just had a timbre that the ear naturally caught and held to. He was making an effort to be quiet, but whoever he was with wasn’t quite taking the same pains. I heard an unfamiliar giggle, followed by a sigh of, “Oh, Chris--”, and then his gentle hushing. I felt...Odd. Weirdly gross. Like I needed to play Klingon poetry in my ears at top volume for a few hours to get rid of the sound. Just this once, I didn’t let my curiosity get the better of me. I turned around quickly and went in the opposite direction. I took the longest, most convoluted route to my quarters out of fear of running into him and whoever it was. When I did finally reach my quarters, I was exhausted. This was for a combination of reasons. The first, of course, was the fact that I was coming off of a day of two lectures and nearly six hours in the long-range sensor lab. The second was that I had just spent half an hour skulking around the ship to avoid running into the Captain and...Someone. Thira was sound asleep already, which was optimal; she knew me well now, and I was too tired to hide my moderate distress. It was moments like these where I had to take a deep breath, step back, and put my ‘Spock’ cap on. There was a better way to see this situation. I had no logical reason to be upset. While my initial... Interest in the Captain may’ve grown into a much stronger feeling toward him with increased time spent in his presence, I had always been fully cognizant of the fact that the likelihood of anything happening between us was insanely low. This was for several reasons. For one, Pike was my Commanding Officer. While it wasn’t entirely unheard of for officers to become...Involved with their superiors, it wasn’t exactly on the up-and-up. I thought of Thira and her husband. They’d been deliberately placed on separate starships despite the fact that they’d both applied to the Enterprise. Unless you were a computer, or a Vulcan, emotion tended to hold at least some sway over certain areas where objectivity was needed from a Captain. Another reason was, despite the fact that I might have liked to think otherwise, the Captain had never explicitly stated any interest in me. There were moments with Pike that, seen one way, I could misconstrue as romantic. But seen another, they were purely friendly. Our time in Sandblossom, for example -- if I had been there with Spock, he might’ve suggested body heat for the mutual benefit of the well-being of crew members. If I’d strayed too far from Una, she might’ve reached out to keep me close. I had good intentions when we got back to our time. That was why I had signed up for so many courses and trainings for that week. My mind had less time to wander in other directions-- especially in Pike’s. This was for the best, I told myself as I tucked myself into bed. It was for the best that I had heard what I had heard, and not let my curiosity get the better of me. My stomach felt like someone had filled me with pop rocks and hot coffee and given me a shake. This was for the best. It was for the best that I knew my place on the ship, and didn’t have any silly notions about what the Captain might think about me. I couldn’t get that stupid giggle out of my ears. This was for the best. Where could I even find recordings of Klingon poetry?

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