Anime/Comic Convention Zutara AU
Katara rode to the very tippy top of the building on the escalator and looked down through the stacked rings of floors at the crowd of people below. Aesthetically speaking, it was chaos; huge metallic suits lumbered past graceful assassins, multiple ninjas pretended to assault one another with foam weapons, and gods mingled with superheros. Everyone's costume clashed with the next. Beaming, Katara leaned on the stylish glass banister.
Having been dragged along to the first convention by her fandom-happy older brother, Katara had quickly learned to love the various animated series her sibling found week after week. First it was Sailor Moon, then Naruto (which she quit after 7 episodes, vowing eternal hatred towards Sasuke and his silliness), then Black Cat, then Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, ending in a dizzying array of various other animes. Katara had decided on something slightly more subtle than Sokka, Asuna from Sword Art Online. Asuna was pretty kickass, even though Kirito got all the limelight for being so incredibly OP. There wasn't much Katara could do against the difference in skin color, but she'd decided that she didn't care. Her outfit had been a painstaking labor of love. Unlike that of her brother's, which had been ordered off of eBay a week before the convention. She rode back down, mentally trying to order the costumes of other cosplayers into their respective animes and comics. A shy girl cosplaying Kirito introduced herself to Katara and asked for pictures. Two Italian plumbers chased after a wobbly mushroom, shouting "Let's a-go!" A short blonde boy with a braid was being dragged away by his red cloak for drawing a huge alchemical symbol on the floor with white spraypaint.
Then she saw a cosplay she felt she should recognize. There was a strip of metal bent around his left foot, the other encased in a thick black boot. A light, scale-patterned set of leather armor was strapped over his legs and continued up under his actual armor, thicker black plates protecting his chest and shoulders. His face was covered by a sleek, mouthless helmet, spikes radiating out from the eyebrows and across the top. So much leather. Straps. Belts. Buckles. Katara was smitten.
From his stance she could tell he wasn't in a good mood. His head was tipped down. Sulky. His arms were crossed. Apathetic. He was leaning against a wall. Bored. Ignoring the other passersby that seemed to avoid him, she crossed the invisible threshold that separated him from the rest of the colorful, jubilant humanity. He ignored her as she went up to him. She ignored him ignoring her and positioned herself on the wall next to him. She crossed her arms and waited. "What." It sounded extremely unfriendly. "Hello. My name is Katara. It's very nice to meet you," she told him brightly. He did not respond. "You're supposed to respond to that," she added a beat later, nudging him in the side with her elbow. He moved away immediately, his mask staring at her indignantly. "Yeah, well, I'm not in a respondy kind of mood." Katara was unfazed. "Did you make this yourself?" she asked, reverently almost-touching his shoulder guards, which she realized were made out of thick leather, not metal or wood. "It's fantastic. I really like it." The mask turned away, but the owner grunted. Katara took this as encouragement to continue. "What is it from, anyway? I feel like I should recognize it, but I don't. Can I touch it?" The mask swung towards her threateningly. "Okay, okay, I won't touch it. But what is it?" He was silent for a while. Katara tried a guess. "I won't laugh," she promised quietly. He was silent a bit longer, then a hand went up to scratch at the back of his head. When he spoke, it was with a low rumble. "How To Train Your Dragon. The second one." "Hiccup ends up in that?" she exclaimed. Formally, she put her hand on the dragonrider's shoulder. "I thank you, fellow cosplayer. For you have bestowed upon me the greatest urgency to watch the second movie as soon as possible." There was kind of chuckle, and the boy finally relaxed. "You really think it's that good?" he asked, managing to look shy despite not having any facial expressions. Katara grinned at him. "I already told you it's fantastic. You look really good in leather." A strangled kind of noise emanated from the mask. "You okay?" she asked immediately. "It's nothing," he replied smoothly. Katara finally managed to pull together an explanation for his voice. Somehow soft and rough at the same time, low and warm. "Also, do you have a name?" she continued, pert. "I do, actually. Shocker though it may be. Zuko." He nodded at her, before straightening and looking her up and down. "Who are you, though? I'm guessing you're from some anime, but I'm not much of an anime watcher. Subtitles irritate me, and most of the dubs I've found irritate me even more." "Aw, really? I've never been bothered by them. Maybe you're just a slow reader," she teased. "I'm Asuna from Sword Art Online." He cocked his head. "Is that that one where everyone is stuck in the video game, and the main character gets all the girls?" She snorted, utterly failing to cover it with a laugh. "That sounds about right. Asuna ends up as his girlfriend, but before that she becomes Vice Commander of Knights of the Blood Oath. So she also kicks butt without him." "Ah. Very feminist of you," he observed. Katara glanced at him sharply. "...yes," she agreed, not sure whether he meant that as a good thing, but hoping he did. "Hey, take off your helmet!" "What? Why?" "I want to look at it, duh. These things interest me." "No." "Why not?" He was quiet again. Then he sighed, and reached behind his head to pull off the mask. Keeping his head lowered, he dropped it into her outstretched hands. "Wow. This is amazing," she marveled, gently running her hands over the stitching and the spiked comb. She looked up, about to say something, but the words died in her throat and ended up as a simple, "Oh." A burn scar had eaten away the skin on the left side of his face. And he had gold eyes. She'd never seen gold eyes before. Katara snapped out of her momentary stupor. "Dude, that looks cool! Oh, sorry," she amended, realizing he was probably sensitive about it. "It's just that it makes perfect sense. You're a dragon trainer, and you got a bit too cocky with one of the feistier babies." "Maybe." "Oh come on. If you're worried about you looking bad, don't!" "What?" "That means you're attractive." "What?" "You need to pay more attention," she snarked at him, clutching his helmet to her chest and swinging away, making her skirt-cape swish. She looked back, and noticed he was blushing. "Oh. Sorry." She became aware that she was probably apologizing too much. "Here. You can have this back." Katara held up his helmet. "Not that you need it," she grumbled to herself. "Thanks," he replied quietly, staring at her with an expression Katara couldn't categorize. The helmet wandered over under his right shoulder. Just then, Sokka zoomed past them, chasing a sprinting giant potato covered in leather straps. Sokka was humming "Duh nuh nuh nuh, nuh, duhn duhn nuh nuh nuh," to the melody of the SnK opening. "My brother," Katara explained, noticing her new dragonrider acquaintance watching with interest. "Ah. The potato?" "The potato chaser," she corrected. He looked at her again. "I don't like potatoes." She smiled again. "Sokka would like that. He wouldn't have to compete with you for food." "So he's the competitive type?" he guessed, his good eye narrowing. "Yes. Extremely so. You have siblings?" "A sister who's extremely competitive, but in a violent, scary way." Katara nodded wisely. "They should never meet each other," she decided. That got another smile out of him. Katara practically glowed with pride. "No," he agreed. He looked down at her hands. "Um," he started, shifting his shoulders. "Katara. Do you want to go sit down? At the cafe?" he pressed out. "Yes," Katara answered immediately. "But I don't remember what floor it's on." "I do," he smiled again, his shoulders dropping in relief. He turned hesitantly. "I'll show you the way..." "I would prefer being carried," Katara commented primly as she jumped forward to follow him. He looked over and down at her as if she were crazy. "I'm not carrying a rapier-girl down the escalator. Especially not one that'll fuss over all my seams." Katara blushed. "I just like leather," she muttered, looking down. Zuko looked forward again as he steered towards the descending escalators. Katara make a snap decision and grabbed his hand. He glanced over, startled and red. "If you won't carry me, you must at least agree to bring me safely to our destination," she intoned politely. "Of course, my lady," he stuttered, somehow managing not to trip down the moving stairs. They continued to hold hands even after they sat down at the cafe. It became a game, to see who could properly dissect a croissant with one hand the fastest. Zuko won, as his left hand was holding Katara's right. Katara defended herself with the words "Well, your croissant looks like a bomb went off inside it." They switched hands after and stuffed the destroyed pastry into their mouths, Zuko complaining about the crumbs on his outfit and Katara laughing at him. He told her about his sister, about his uncle, about how he tried to be good enough but never was. She told him about her brother, about her father, about how she tried to be the mother that wasn't there. It was in the middle of this that Zuko became very still. He and Katara were leaned in over their cafe table. There were crumbs everywhere. Katara's laughter faded. Zuko's gaze flicked across her eyes to her mouth and back. Katara was silent. She could feel something in the air, could sense something in the way Zuko was looking at her. Her fingers tightened across his. His helmet lay across her rapier on the table, staring at the ceiling. The noise and bustle of the cafe seemed to grow faint. Very slowly, Zuko leaned even farther forward. Hearts beat in their chests. Katara was afraid of moving. Zuko was afraid of stopping.
Both were afraid they had crumbs on their face. Katara tried to contain her breathing. They were going to kiss, she was sure of it. She was completely freaked out, but she was also extremely pleased. Both feelings battled in her mind. With a decisive intake of breath, she moved forward the last few inches and met his lips with her own.
And the Chieftain of Berk and Vice Commander of the Knights of the Blood Oath kissed.
