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Zutara Week – Wednesday 7/9/08
Prompt #3: Smug

“Smirk”

There it was again: a mocking quirk of her lips, an amused glance through hooded lids. She basked in her triumph. She was smirking at him again, belittling him, making him feel beneath her, worthless. Even Azula had never made him feel so utterly useless and insignificant as she did every single day.

He glared at her. Her beautiful blue eyes were sparkling brightly in delight as she watched him push himself off the ground a little shakily. His muscles were sore, and his skin was tainted blue and violet with bruises.

“I let you win,” he said resentfully.

His words lacked any conviction even to his own ears. Katara laughed.

“Keep telling yourself that,” she said, her smirk broadening. “Maybe you’ll believe it one day.”

He remained silent. After all, he had just lost another one of their sparring matches. They were not practicing their bending, and these matches were certainly never planned. They always began with an argument, usually over the smallest and most insignificant things. For example, today’s fight had been over the amount of salt that should be put into their evening soup. Katara had preferred a stronger flavor while Zuko had insisted that a little subtlety was best. It had escalated from there.

Zuko was not an idiot. He knew that Katara remained forever suspicious of him and his every move, and she could not accept him into their group. He knew she enjoyed nitpicking him and found pleasure in mocking any shortcoming she could uncover. She was being vindictive and unforgiving. He should be angry; he should hate her. But he didn’t. Perhaps he felt that he deserved it all.

She scoffed, watching him smugly, the smirk ever-present.

“Next time,” she said, “think twice when you’re about to challenge me.”

“You cheated,” said Zuko. “You distracted me.”

“A master bender is focused and cannot be distracted,” she said matter-of-factly, though her eyebrow was raised in amusement. “Maybe you’re just not as good as you think you are.”

“I want a rematch,” he stated firmly.

Now, her smirk was gone, replaced by a dark frown as she walked slowly towards him, like a predator stalking her prey. She stopped before him, her face only inches away from his.

“Look, you think you can just force yourself into our group, pretending to be all ‘good’ and ‘reformed’,” she said, her voice now low and menacing. “Let me tell you something, Zuko. I don’t trust you, and I doubt I ever will. But for Aang’s sake, I tolerate you. But remember one thing. When you’re here, you play by my rules. You got that?”

Zuko did not answer, but he did not break their eye contact. Animosity seemed to crackle in the air until she finally tore her gaze away. Just when she was about to leave, Zuko grabbed her by her wrist, firmly but gently. He himself did not understand the impulse that made him reach over, but there he was, his hand now wrapped around her wrist. She looked at him quizzically.

“Is there something you want?” she asked, removing her wrist from his grasp.

Since Zuko had been here, he had been trying to find a weakness in Katara. While they were sparring, her defense was impenetrable, and her offense was strong. In their daily activities, Katara was cold and reserved; her armor was as hard as ever. There seemed to be no way to get through to her, to win her trust again.

She was smirking at him, seeing him vulnerable and uncertain, and it was frustrating. He wanted to wipe that smirk off her face.

Before he knew it, he had leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss. She resisted at first, but he soon felt her melting against him, and when he pulled away, his heart was pounding.

And his greatest triumph was seeing the small smile at her lips when they broke apart. It was a genuine smile, the first true smile she bestowed on him. Her eyes were shining, and Zuko realized that their dynamics had shifted. She was now the vulnerable and uncertain one.

The Infallible Katara had a weakness after all.

This time, Zuko smirked.

Description
Zutara Week – Wednesday 7/9/08
Prompt #3: Smug

“Smirk”

There it was again: a mocking quirk of her lips, an amused glance through hooded lids. She basked in her triumph. She was smirking at him again, belittling him, making him feel beneath her, worthless. Even Azula had never made him feel so utterly useless and insignificant as she did every single day.

He glared at her. Her beautiful blue eyes were sparkling brightly in delight as she watched him push himself off the ground a little shakily. His muscles were sore, and his skin was tainted blue and violet with bruises.

“I let you win,” he said resentfully.

His words lacked any conviction even to his own ears. Katara laughed.

“Keep telling yourself that,” she said, her smirk broadening. “Maybe you’ll believe it one day.”

He remained silent. After all, he had just lost another one of their sparring matches. They were not practicing their bending, and these matches were certainly never planned. They always began with an argument, usually over the smallest and most insignificant things. For example, today’s fight had been over the amount of salt that should be put into their evening soup. Katara had preferred a stronger flavor while Zuko had insisted that a little subtlety was best. It had escalated from there.

Zuko was not an idiot. He knew that Katara remained forever suspicious of him and his every move, and she could not accept him into their group. He knew she enjoyed nitpicking him and found pleasure in mocking any shortcoming she could uncover. She was being vindictive and unforgiving. He should be angry; he should hate her. But he didn’t. Perhaps he felt that he deserved it all.

She scoffed, watching him smugly, the smirk ever-present.

“Next time,” she said, “think twice when you’re about to challenge me.”

“You cheated,” said Zuko. “You distracted me.”

“A master bender is focused and cannot be distracted,” she said matter-of-factly, though her eyebrow was raised in amusement. “Maybe you’re just not as good as you think you are.”

“I want a rematch,” he stated firmly.

Now, her smirk was gone, replaced by a dark frown as she walked slowly towards him, like a predator stalking her prey. She stopped before him, her face only inches away from his.

“Look, you think you can just force yourself into our group, pretending to be all ‘good’ and ‘reformed’,” she said, her voice now low and menacing. “Let me tell you something, Zuko. I don’t trust you, and I doubt I ever will. But for Aang’s sake, I tolerate you. But remember one thing. When you’re here, you play by my rules. You got that?”

Zuko did not answer, but he did not break their eye contact. Animosity seemed to crackle in the air until she finally tore her gaze away. Just when she was about to leave, Zuko grabbed her by her wrist, firmly but gently. He himself did not understand the impulse that made him reach over, but there he was, his hand now wrapped around her wrist. She looked at him quizzically.

“Is there something you want?” she asked, removing her wrist from his grasp.

Since Zuko had been here, he had been trying to find a weakness in Katara. While they were sparring, her defense was impenetrable, and her offense was strong. In their daily activities, Katara was cold and reserved; her armor was as hard as ever. There seemed to be no way to get through to her, to win her trust again.

She was smirking at him, seeing him vulnerable and uncertain, and it was frustrating. He wanted to wipe that smirk off her face.

Before he knew it, he had leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss. She resisted at first, but he soon felt her melting against him, and when he pulled away, his heart was pounding.

And his greatest triumph was seeing the small smile at her lips when they broke apart. It was a genuine smile, the first true smile she bestowed on him. Her eyes were shining, and Zuko realized that their dynamics had shifted. She was now the vulnerable and uncertain one.

The Infallible Katara had a weakness after all.

This time, Zuko smirked.