A/N: This is whereI'll be posting my responses to Zutara requests I recieve on my tumblr- so welcome to the place where you can read horribly disconnected, tragic, smutty, and/or silly Zutara drabbles. Enjoy your stay.

Prompt: Realization

Night had long since fallen, and the Ember Island home breathed in sleep. Zuko lay in his bed, wide awake, thinking.

Somehow, it had managed to elude him. It was true that Zuko hadn't been a part of the group for very long, but he'd spent so much time with the members of the Gaang over the past few weeks that it truly amazed him how long it took to realize it.

Katara was addicted to body heat.

She lay now by his side, her head pillowed by his arm. The line of her side fit snugly against his, the soles of her feet resting against his ankles. Zuko was shirtless- she preferred it that way- but Katara was fully clothed.

It had started a while ago, instigated by the waterbender. He didn't know how in the world he agreed- the details were fuzzy- but somehow they'd fallen into this unorthodox sleeping pattern. Their companionship only existed at night, and only by need; hers for heat and comfort, and his for trust and forgiveness. During the day, they were less than friends.

He felt her stir awake beside him. He stiffened slightly; conversation wasn't routine.

Bleary blue eyes met alert gold. "Zuko."

He nodded in response. "Katara."

She yawned. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

Zuko attempted to shrug while her head was resting on his arm. "Thinking," he replied succintly.

She nodded, accepting his small explanation. Each passing day, he owed her less and less.

For a few minutes, only silent breathing filled the air. Then: "How long has it been?"

Katara turned her head to him, bit her lip. "Twenty two nights."

His eyes widened in surprise; he hadn't expected a precise answer. "You've been counting?"

"Of course," she answered, as though no explanation was warranted. And he supposed that in their warped situation, a rational explanation wasn't even possible.

He felt Katara turn her head so that her face was buried in the crook of his neck, felt her inhale. A while ago, this would have struck him as strange. Now, it was completely normal.

"You smell nice," she mumbled.

Zuko's hand stroked the bare skin of her arm, once. "You smell nice, too." He'd memorized her scent; she smelled like berries and fresh air.

"I hate you," he heard her whisper.

He felt a pang of hurt in his chest, but kept his expression neutral. "Why do you hate me?"

Her hand landed on his bare chest. "Because I'll never be able to sleep without you."

Zuko's hand traced the curve of her body, then fell into her hair. "It's still not morning," he told her quietly. "You can get a few more hours of sleep."

He felt her lips curl into a smile on his neck. "I guess you're not completely heartless."

Zuko chuckled. "I guess I'm not."

Eventually, Katara's breathing evened out as she succumbed once again to sleep. Zuko's hand absentmindedly stroked her hair. It was an odd arrangement, he decided, but it was one he didn't particularily mind.