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They are scarcely through the door, Katara still pulling off her thick, fur lined mittens, when Zuko groans and leans against her back, arms twining around her waist and face mashing into her hair.
His weight nearly knocks her off balance, and Katara catches herself against the wall. With a laugh, she cranes her neck to look back at him.
"You could at least let me take off my coat first, Zuko."
He groans again and buries his face even deeper into her curls. "Nope. Can't."
There is a petulant edge to his voice, and Katara rolls her eyes. She peels her mittens the rest of the way off and tosses them onto the bench by the door, then kicks off her boots. For all that the cold shocked her when they arrived back at the South Pole a few days ago, she's grown accustomed to it now. She almost misses it, the coziness of the soft furs on her skin, and the delicate layer of fluff on every surface outside that mutes all the noises of the world. The comfort of a warm house after a long walk out in the snow, made all the better by the firebender by her side.
Or usually by her side. Right now, he seems determined to keep her wrapped snug in his arms, even while they're both dressed for a blizzard inside a warm house. Their house. At least for now. At least until the new embassy is complete, or until they have to turn back for the Fire Nation.
She peels his arms loose and turns to face him. Zuko makes a small, disgruntled noise, and opens his eyes just a slit.
"Oh, come on," she says, reaching up to pat his cheek. "The meeting wasn't that bad."
He considers for a second. "Not that bad," he agrees. "Better than I expected."
"So you're just pouting because you're cold?"
His mouth curves into a slight, soft pout. "I'm not pouting."
Katara brushes her thumb along his protruding lower lip. "So what's this?"
She almost expects him to cave in. She expects him to melt, to give in to her teasing and plant small, teasing kisses all over her face and as far down her neck as he can reach with the thick, fluffy collar in his way.
That's what she would do. What she has done when he teases her about the heat in the Fire Nation. What he usually does when she teases him about one thing or another.
But instead, Zuko yawns, deep and prolonged. When he is finished, Katara stares. That, she would never have expected.
Zuko catches her look of bemusement, and his face reddens. "I—um. It must be really late."
"Late?" Katara pokes him. "We still have two hours before we have to leave to meet Dad for dinner."
"But it's so dark." His pout returns, and Katara is tempted to run her finger along his lip again, just to watch his reaction.
She resists the urge and cups her hand around his cheek. "It's the South Pole, and it's not the winter solstice yet. It gets a lot darker than this."
Zuko rests his head against her hand. "It's late," he insists. "Has to be. I wouldn't be tired if it wasn't late."
She lets her voice drop into a softer, warmer tone. "I'm pretty sure that's not how it works, Fire Lord."
"Hmpf. I'm pretty sure it is." He closes his eyes and nuzzles into her hand.
He draws power from the sun, Katara reminds herself. That must be it. Without the sun to fuel him, he doesn't have quite the same capacity to push himself to inhuman limits. The limits he usually abides by, spending so many hours of his days in the Fire Nation in meetings, then in poring over treaties and trade agreements and correspondence from all the other leaders of the world. Usually, he has more energy to draw on than most people, and he can push himself farther than any of them ever could.
Here, he is missing his extra source of strength. Here, even more than everywhere else, he is only human. Here, his limits find him faster.
For a little while, Katara is perfectly happy to hold his face in her hand, watching the creases in his forehead, around his mouth and his eyes smooth away. He looks peaceful in a way that he rarely does outside of sleep—but then he leans harder on her hand and starts to tilt himself ever so slightly forward to rest his weight on her chest.
"Hey!" She flicks his shoulder. "Are you sleeping?"
Eyes still shut, Zuko mumbles, "Maybe."
Katara rolls her eyes and pushes him off. "I love you, but I'm not going to keep holding you just so you can sleep standing up."
There is a short pause before Zuko pulls away. "Fine." He yawns tremendously and yanks his parka clumsily over his head.
"Get some rest before dinner," she tells him, her hand brushing against his after he hangs his parka by the door—steel gray rather than blue, just different enough to set him apart from the tribe, but similar enough that he never looks out of place. "We still have two hours."
Zuko nods groggily and presses a quick, soft kiss to her forehead before wandering off toward the bedroom. There is a soft thump, and Katara smiles. She knows that sound. She's watched him crash face-first into bed enough times to see it even without turning around, even without being in the right room. She peels off her own parka and pads after him to peer through the door.
Just as she expects, Zuko lies sprawled at an odd angle across the bed, arms splayed out to the sides and his feet dangling off the end. She shakes her head.
"Aren't you going to at least take out your crown? That doesn't look comfortable."
Zuko gives a small grunt and turns his head just far enough to peer at her through one eye. "Can't," he declares in a mumble. "Too tired."
Katara smiles and crosses her arms. "Don't think I don't recognize a ploy to get me to play with your hair when I see one."
He doesn't respond, just closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, head still turned partway back in her direction.
Lucky for him, Katara doesn't like seeing him uncomfortable, even if it's his own doing, his own laziness. And she can never resist the urge to run her hands through his hair. She crosses the room, nearly soundless, to sit beside him on the edge of the bed.
Before she can reach his crown, Zuko's arm snakes out and hooks her around the waist. A surprised laugh bursts out of her, and he twists, pulling her down beside him.
"You're warm," he murmurs sleepily, and presses his face against her sternum, his arms wrapped snug around her middle.
Despite herself, Katara smiles. "And you're a ridiculous sneak."
"Didn't stop you from marrying me."
"Hmm." She rests a hand against the back of his head, playing with the binding on his topknot. "You've gotten sneakier since then."
He goes quiet, and Katara pulls the crown from his topknot, then slowly unwinds the binding until his hair spills free in glossy black streams against the fur bedspread. She runs her fingertips through his hair, then plants a small, soft kiss on the top of his head.
Zuko hardly reacts, and Katara leans back against the pillows, one arm draped around his shoulders while the other threads lightly through his hair. He must be exhausted. Normally, no kiss ever goes unnoticed, unreciprocated, no matter how small.
She trails her fingers through the length of his hair, and rubs slow circles into his scalp, soothing the places where she knows from experience that a topknot and crown pull the most against the scalp. His hair, its smooth silkiness, its fine, straight locks, never fails to fascinate her. Zuko, she knows, is much the same with her. He plays with her curls, letting them twist delicately around his fingers, at every chance he gets.
It's the contrast, she always believes. The stark difference between her curls and Zuko's straight, silken locks has to be what fills them both with such fascination. Whatever it is, though, whether she's right or wrong, she never has her fill of playing with Zuko's hair.
She feels him relax even further, the slight remaining tension in his muscles draining away. If he isn't sleeping yet, he will be soon, and she doesn't mind that. It's warm and comfortable being pressed up against him, even if she can't move without waking him, even if she has no desire to join him in slumber.
Her fingers keep twirling and smoothing bits of his hair, and before she realizes it, she is partway through braiding a narrow lock of hair just over his scarred eye. It looks nice, she decides, and stretches out an arm to retrieve a small box from the bedside table. From inside, she produces a few of the delicate golden beads he'd given her as part of her betrothal gift and begins weaving them into his hair.
When she is finished, he wears a thin braid punctuated with flashes of gold. It isn't as long as Katara's braids—he keeps his hair cropped a bit shorter than that—and it won't hang in loose, swaying loops the way that hers do if he chooses to pull it back, but she likes it. Fire Nation beads worn in a Water Tribe style look just as good on him as they do on her.
"What did you do to my hair?" His voice is sleepy and muffled, and he makes no effort to move.
Katara tilts her head to the side until she gets a clearer view of his face. His eyes are still closed. "I thought you were sleeping."
Face still pressed to her sternum, Zuko shakes his head. "Feels too nice when you play with my hair."
With a smile, she smooths the finished braid back to where his topknot would normally sit. "I gave you a loopy."
"Hmm." His hand raises clumsily upward and collides with hers before tracing the length of the little braid. He raises his head enough to blearily meet her eyes. "How does it look?"
With all his hair hanging loose and a single braid slipping out of his grasp to dangle in front of his eyes, it doesn't have quite the effect that she planned.
She sweeps his hair back away from his eyes for a moment. "Well, it isn't finished yet. But I think it's going to be very handsome with your topknot."
With a smile and a contented sigh, Zuko lays his head back down. "That sounds perfect."
Giving a small laugh, Katara lets his hair hang loose again and rests her hands on the middle of his back. "How would you know? You haven't looked in a mirror."
"I trust you." His voice is still gravelly, but his words are a little crisper, a little clearer than before.
"Terrible decision. I could do your hair up like King Bumi and you'd never know the difference."
At that, Zuko laughs too, and rolls just far enough off of her so that he can look her way without raising his head. "I really don't think you had enough time for that."
"Hmm." She turns onto her side too and scoots down the bed so she is in line with his eyes. She smooths his hair again and her hand rests against his scar for a second. "It's bold to doubt my hairstyling abilities." She watches his eyes slip shut again and leans forward to kiss his forehead. "But you win this time. No King Bumi hair."
He nods, eyes closed and expression peaceful. "Good. I don't think I could pull that off."
"I don't think King Bumi can either, but who's going to tell him that?"
He laughs again and opens his eyes, the soft golden irises skimming over her. "Have I mentioned how much I love you today?"
"Probably, but I can always stand to hear it again."
He doesn't speak, instead feeling around for her hand and pressing it gently to the lightning scar on his chest. Her heart flutters, just as it always has at the reminder of his near sacrifice.
This much, she hears his voice whisper in her mind. This much and so much more.
She can't think of a proper response, just holds her hand where he placed it, and wraps the other as far around his hands as possible. Sometimes it seems really unfair that his hands are so big compared with hers. She sometimes wishes that she could engulf him and hold him safe forever between her palms.
"I love you too," she whispers, and Zuko kisses her forehead this time.
For a while, they are both quiet, both still and content to just be. Katara watches his blinks growing slower again, his eyelids staying closed longer and longer. He's still feeling the lack of sunshine, she knows, and part of her wants to crawl out of bed just long enough to send a note of apology to Dad, just a few short lines to excuse them both from dinner, and then spend the rest of the night here beside Zuko.
But Zuko beats her to the point. "How much longer before we have to leave for dinner?" he asks, eyes closed, hands still closed around hers.
"An hour?" she guesses. "Maybe a little more than."
"Good." He moves a little closer and presses his face against her shoulder. "Can we stay here forever?"
A light laugh escapes her, and she cups her hand around his cheek, rubbing her thumb along the lower rim of the scar. "Not if we want to make it to dinner on time."
"No, here. At the South Pole."
There are too many problems they'd have to face for that, too many obstacles back in the Fire Nation and all around the world. She knows that. She knows that Zuko knows it too. She pushes back his silky hair again.
"And have you get all sleepy and silly on me every time the sun sets early? Wouldn't that bother you?"
"It's a nice kind of tired," he answers softly, nuzzling against her shoulder. "Besides, I'd get used to it. And if I didn't, still completely worth it if I could snuggle with my wife all winter long."
The beads in his single narrow braid glisten as they slide along his jawline, and Katara trails her fingertips lightly along the length of the braid. She would like that too. Her husband, her beautiful firebender, and someday, their children too, all calling this place home. All traveling the world together, but always returning here.
"Someday," she answers in a whisper. "Maybe someday we will."