AN: Given how awkward this chapter started out, I foolishly believed that it would be one of the shorter ones. Nope.

It's the kind of awkward that keeps going and is all can't stop won't stop like.

Cheers,

Eastonia.

Coffee

'A drink made from the roasted and ground beanlike seeds of a tropical shrub, served hot or iced.'

It was four in the morning on the last day of September, two weeks after Sokka came down to help out with Katara's recovery (from the flu).

And Zuko was up and emotion-baking, again.

Nervous baking to be more specific.

He had approximately five hours of sleep. But nope. He was not going to take a nap anytime soon – no he wasn't.

…

Seven-thirty in the morning of the last day of September and Katara woke to the smell of baked goods.

So, of course that meant she needed to be in Zuko's flat's kitchen. Now.

He probably needed someone to talk to (never mind the fact that Katara was the best taste-tester ever. Sokka shovelled everything into his mouth. Katara shovelled everything into her mouth and could later give a better critique than, 'that was good make it again').

She silently made her way into his flat, mentally cheering when it opened and then closed soundlessly behind her. She peeked into the kitchen and fought not to grin.

Scones in all their variants (including the odd but yummy sausage, bacon, ham and cheese scone that Zuko had somehow come up with during the days of the 'take down'). Four different types of bread: fruit and nut; cheese, ham and chives; bran, oat and seed; and a plain French loaf (all stuffed to the brim with their added ingredients). Breakfast muffins. A lemon-curd cheesecake. His take on a banoffee pie, rocky road and millionaire's shortbread. Cinnamon buns drenched in a lemony, cream cheese dressing.

Also. Croissants and pain au chocolat. Enough said.

And Zuko was still mixing something in a large glass bowl.

He muttered something under his breath, mixed in some of their better vanilla essence (the thick, syrupy type that was speckled all over with vanilla seeds) and turned back to the hob, popping the bowl on top of a pot filled with bubbling water.

"Morning." came a rather curt rendition of the greeting.

"How do you always do that?" she asked.

"WHL0 training, you guys never got the full thing. Be grateful." As he replied he dumped the hot custard over yesterday's blueberry pancakes (her contribution to breakfast, and she accidentally made enough to feed a small army. Also, since they didn't feel like having pancakes for lunch, tea and dinner, they ended up with four large dinner plates worth in Zuko's fridge – Katara overestimated by a lot).

Shrugging, she grinned at him and attempted to steal one of the traybakes.

"No touching the baked goods."

"Why?" She very nearly whined.

"Yours and mine are coming over today."

Katara froze. "All of them?"

"Yup."

"The kids?"

"Yeah."

"Uncle and my dad?"

"Yes."

"… Suki?"

"All of them."

She sat.

"When did this happen?"

"When you were ill."

"So the baking?"

"I'm really, really, really nervous."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did!"

Katara suddenly recalled a rather serious looking Zuko sitting her down a week ago, after she had sufficiently recovered from that cold. "Oh. Yeah, you did."

Her coffee mug landed in front of her. Just the way she liked it, too (enough whipped cream to cause a heart attack and homemade salted caramel sauce).

"They're arriving at nine-ish."

Something about the tone of his voice sent her straight into planning mode.

"Inside or outside?"

"Outside. Forecast says it's going to be rather pleasant. Also, less of a need to vacuum after Sokka's done eating."

"Front or back?"

"Back patio."

"Tables?"

Zuko gestured at the kitchen window.

"They aren't set up yet but…"

"Say no more. I'll handle set up you finish up here?"

"Thank you."

…

Setting up was definitely easier than what Zuko was doing.

The wooden picnic tables (yes, tables. There were three) went up easily. Zuko had, apparently, dragged out the furniture from the stable/garage in between baking his storm up.

…

"They're here."

"Focus. We can do this."

"Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh."

"Breathe Katara. Breathe."

"How are you not panicking right now?"

"I think that I've reached that point of nervous baking in which I've become numb to everything but my sore, sore hands, arms and shoulders."

Katara mentally winced in empathy was she watched Zuko gingerly try to rub said sore limbs and appendages.

…

The good news was that Toph, Aang and Suki seemed to take the same approach as Sokka (and now that he thought about it, Katara) when it came to his 'I'm sorry I upped and left without much notice and went under radar and basically became a hypocrite spiel'.

They blamed Uncle.

"Gramps. You know that if Zuko doesn't want to be found, he won't be found. He was the one that hid us for well over eight months when our safe house was discovered remember?"

Toph made a very valid point. Back then, during their 'active' period, Azula had somehow tracked them down. The safe house in which he met his team was discovered and then they were on the run. Somehow, he had managed to keep them hidden – in plain sight at that.

Oh well, better Uncle than him. Uncle would manage to get everyone to forgive him in the next ten minutes anyway.

…

True to Sokka-ish form, he had seen the food and… well, you get the picture. Hakoda Wai had followed his son's suit. Toph was buried under cinnamon rolls. Aang, apparently, thought that Zuko was going to run out of toast – and was eating accordingly.

Katara felt like the entire coffee morning was awkward. And even though the Team had forgiven them (funny that, but then again, they were family – and nobody else on their team were as liable to hold a grudge as Katara knew she was…) the awkwardness had just headed in a different direction.

"So. When are you going to plant one on that?" Suki smirked at her.

"Suki."

"What? You've been, essentially, living together –"

"We have separate flats! And neither of us have ever spent the night in the other's!"

"You spend almost all your time together."

"We're neighbours!"

"You take meals together."

"We grocery-pool!"

"You've been touching. A lot."

"No we don't."

"Then again, you two did that a lot back then too."

Katara paused. Really, she was rather glad that everyone else seemed distracted by Zuko's baking. Then again, Suki wasSuki. She spent the least amount of time in the Team (the Kyoshi Strike Force kept her rather busy), and somehow ended up the most perceptive.

It was pretty annoying.

"We didn't."

"You did. You also had this habit where you talked to or about each other around sixty-five percent of the time."

"No…"

"Yes."

"But!"

Suki fixed a knowing look at her as she sipped at her coffee.

"Katara. About three years and a bit ago you burst into my room – because, and I quote, 'I can't do this Suki, I can't! I can't have a crush on Zuko!' remember?"

Katara blushed.

"I don't really recall."

"Don't recall or don't want to recall?" Suki sighed and grabbed a pain au chocolat. "Look Katara, you two are a good fit. Not in the 'it makes sense' way, although it does, but in the well… Look there are reasons why we call you two the parents of our little group."

All Katara could do was sit and stare at her coffee. Enough whipped cream to cause a heart attack and homemade salted caramel sauce.

Just the way she liked it.

…

Four years, seven months and twenty-four days ago Katara was up way earlier than usual.

And she hated coffee. She always dumped in enough sugar to chance at diabetes mellitus and usually just passed hot milk through her grinds.

But she needed coffee.

She had one of those nights where no matter how much she tried, she just couldn't sleep. And it didn't help that they were in a new place.

"Hey."

Katara nearly jumped.

"Zuko! You could stand to be a little louder you know."

He chuckled, sending warm waves of something through her (truth be told, she was a little terrified of whatever that something was. Some part of her knew what it was, but she didn't want to identify it) as he picked out his mug and poured in the chai concentrate.

He almost never drunk coffee. Funny how that little detail made her want to smile.

"Enjoying that mess?" He asked gesturing at her mug before turning around to switch on the coffee maker.

"Hard-ly." She grimaced, "But it's caffeine, and it's the only way I can think of that this becomes bearable."

Zuko looked contemplative. "Could I try something?"

Katara passed him her mug. "Sure."

And then she nearly strangled him for dumping out the coffee. But she waited.

And Zuko pulled out the leftover salted caramel sauce from his 'adventures in baking' and put a tablespoon of it in the mug. Then he grabbed some of the newly made black coffee and poured it in till it filled a third of the mug. Then he poured in about a sixth of the mug of milk and stirred, before topping it off all the rest of the way with whipped cream and more sauce.

"Try that."

Katara did. "Oh my gosh – I actually liked that."

"Had a feeling you would."

Somehow, Katara wasn't surprised that he knew exactly how to make a cup of coffee she liked. Zuko might be the fire-power in their team but, to her he was like ivy. He crept up on her and she found him in places of her life she didn't expect.

It was nice.

AN: Can you tell I got hungry? I actually have a tiny shoutout to the MacMillan's World's Biggest Coffee Morning in there. Zuko may or may not have bought much of his supplies for said coffee morning from them. Donate to your local cancer support charity people!