DISCLAIMER: post-finale AU but canon-compliant. i've tried to keep this somewhat faithful to the comics as well but as i have never read those trainwrecks in full, i'm not promising much accuracy beyond general plot points (aka the extent of my knowledge)

& as always, atla is property of bryke, but zutara belongs to us

(May2020): finally edited out of post-2AM writing mode

author's notes. i didn't really expect to contribute to zutara month this year, but this was knocking around in my head for a while and what the hell, why not.

this was supposed to be light, short, and sweet. naturally, it's become somewhat the opposite of that because apparently i only write in one fucking flavour

title (and general attempt at mood) come from henry saiz's 'fill me up' and all its over-the-top euphoric 80s-inspired synthy drama.

happy holidays, everyone!

PART ONE. letting go

Dark wood, dark night, dark thoughts. Her insides were hollow but the space immediately next to the bar was packed. Music too loud to make conversation a realistic possibility; the air so stuffy she was almost glad that she came wearing the most salacious top she owned. Everyone came here to escape, after all; tonight she was no different.

She caught the eye of the cute bartender and waved him down for a drink. He worked diligently, his fingers methodically measuring and pouring, with a kind face and a devilish smirk.

"Alone tonight, sweetheart?" he asked, raising his voice so she could hear him over the din.

The clear drink slid across the counter, cool citrusy liquid sloshing at glass corners. "And every night after that," she conceded sarcastically, raising her cup in a mock toast. "Because guess who's single now!"

She took a slow sip of her drink. It was strong but not too strong, the liquor burning clean and cold through tangy freshness.

The bartender's eyes widened as he leaned forward. "Oh, no way! You too, huh?"

Katara sized him up with eyes narrowed in suspicion. Was he making a pass at her? Should she flirt back? "You didn't...also...just break up with your boyfriend of four years, did you?"

The words slipped out of her mouth clumsily. She'd thump herself on the forehead if she could, but she could barely move thanks to the people crowding around her, pinning her arms to her sides. Smooth, she chided herself, real smooth.

The bartender's smirk only widened in a well-how-did-you-guess sort of way, but he shook his head. "Nah. My boyfriend's waiting for me back home," he quipped without missing a beat. She blinked, momentarily taken aback. "But another one of my patrons is also out here nursing his broken heart tonight." He shook his head again. "Looks like fate."

"Looks like," Katara replied, briefly wondering how she was supposed to process this tidbit of information now that she was nineteen and newly single. "Is this patron of yours...cute?"

The bartender grinned wickedly. "Cute? Sweetheart, he's delicious!" He winked at her. "I should go top him up. But I'll be sure to tell him you asked!"

And with that the bartender disappeared out of sight and out of mind. Leaving Katara alone with her thoughts and the comforting burn of her drink.

She wasn't sad that it was over, she decided to the sound of chatter muffled by bright music and ice cubes clinking softly in her glass.

After all, she had learned so much about herself during her time with Aang. Enough to know that it wasn't either of their faults that it didn't work out. They just needed different things from each other.

He was always leaving her behind to go chase his next big adventure. He expected her to wait in constant adoration, changing her shape like water to fill spaces where she didn't belong.

But she had always preferred to carve her own way, whittling away at the world like it was made of stone, until it fit to accommodate her. She was on the cusp of womanhood, burgeoning with potential and hungry for life. She was a storm wrapped up in sunshine and optimism, rough edges peeking through the push and pull of her will.

And he wanted her to bury all that beneath soft clouds and perfection, serve it all up on an altar as high as the pedestal he put her on.

He wanted more than she could willingly give without losing herself.

So, heart heavy but spirits feather-light, she had kissed him on the cheek and said goodbye. Traveled back to Ba Sing Se, where Sokka and Suki were more than happy to have her crash on a futon in their new apartment on the middle ring. Absently sought out the Jasmine Dragon where she knew a cup of tea and some sound advice would always be waiting. But the teashop brought with it no small slew of discomfiting memories - first kiss with Aang being a prime contender - and so she had walked right past it, drawn inexorably to the dimly lit bar down the street instead.

No sooner had she drained her glass down to the dregs than the cute bartender reappeared with a new bounce in his step. Dimples flashed in his cheek as he slid another drink over to her.

She frowned at the blue drink in its elegant tapered glass sitting by her elbow. "I didn't order that," she pointed out thickly, momentarily wondering if the bartender had confused her for someone else.

But he smirked at her instead. "I know," he announced, leaning toward her to give her a quick wink. "Courtesy of my...other...single patron. He hopes it'll make your night a little better."

Her back stiffened and she whipped her head around, trying to catch a glimpse of this mysterious stranger, but everything was far too crowded. "That's nice of him," she stuttered, wondering if it was actually just niceness or something a little less innocent. What sort of guy would just buy a drink for a girl he'd never even met, just because she happened to be newly single too? Was she wandering into a dangerous trap of expectations and obligations by accepting it? What if the drink was spiked?

"He seems like a nice guy," the bartender agreed with a nod, breaking through her train of thoughts. "Lonely, though."

A pang went through her at that, immediately making her regret her initial suspicions. Because she knew what loneliness felt like, even when she was with Aang. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said simply.

The bartender quirked an eyebrow as she took her glass by the stem. "Anything you'd like me to tell him for you?"

A blush rose to her cheeks in spite of herself. Reflexively, she tamped it down because what will Aang think, and then fought that reflex almost immediately because it didn't matter what Aang thought anymore. She was single and perfectly able to accept a drink from a guy at the bar if she wanted to.

"Tell him thank you," she instructed him, leaning forward in a show of what she hoped looked like self-assurance. "And that I hope his night picks up too –" and with a stroke of brilliance, she coyly added, " – and while you're at it, send him another drink on me."

The bartender's grin was wide enough to split his face in two, and Katara got the sneaking suspicion that right now, she was positively making his night. "Yes ma'am," he acquiesced. "What would you like to get him?"

Katara paused, wondering what was appropriate to send to a kind, recently-single, allegedly deliciously cute gentleman she had never met. Her knowledge of alcohol was woefully limited, in large part because Aang didn't drink and therefore in his presence, neither had she. "I don't know," she admitted haplessly, face falling. "Surprise me?"

"Mm…" the bartender scratches at his chin, "I think I could whip something up."

Watching the bartender quickly assemble the drink, she sent her own personal, private regards to the mysterious stranger, whoever he was, and hoped that his night was going a bit better than hers at least.

She took a sip of the blue drink and it was absolutely delicious: sharp, sweet, going down like juice but with a bit of an edge. Perfect for her.

A part of her couldn't help but be intrigued by this stranger. Who he was, how old, what he looked like - that type of thing. Was he recently widowed? Broken up with a long-term but ultimately incompatible partner, like her? She settled on the latter, constructing other details of her fantasy, fuelled in part by the blue drink easing its way down her throat.

Light hair or dark? Lean or muscular? Friendly and talkative, or strong and silent? She sifted through each of the possibilities, custom-creating a perfect stranger that she could spend the rest of the night talking to. Someone who didn't remind her of Aang at all, someone who wouldn't need to be mothered or coddled or protected, who'd listen to her quiet concerns and fight by her side. Who'd take a bolt of lightning to the heart for her and expect nothing in return.

Her mouth twisted at the memory, but not nearly as sharply as her stomach does. She had buried it during the early years of being with Aang – because some thoughts just made everything unnecessarily complicated. But as her relationship wore on and she became increasingly aware that Aang was not the perfect partner she thought he was when she was a naïve fifteen-year-old, she found herself revisiting those memories more and more often. How everything went down, how things could have been different, if only she'd been a little wiser or a little bolder…

But the reality was that she was young and hopeful, with her head so full of stories about the Avatar that there wasn't really room for anyone else. Not even for the honourable, slightly awkward Fire Nation prince who'd turned on his father, turned the tide of the war, and saved her life. Who'd unexpectedly dug a place in her heart, first with the touch of her fingers against his scar, then with his unwavering support as he helped her confront her mother's killer, and finally, the sound of his voice screaming as he threw his body between her and the lightning, blue as the drink in her glass.

For a moment, the taste of it was electric on her tongue, every last nerve buzzing…

It took another scar – the star-shaped one over his heart with her name written on it – and his quiet, rasping voice thanking her – as if she'd been the one to almost die for him – to open her eyes to another possibility. That maybe there was a reason that things between them were strained and uncomfortable, even as it was becoming clear to her that there was nobody else who really understood her.

But then the war was over and in the blink of an eye, he'd gotten back together with Mai and that was the end of that. So, she shrugged off the disappointed thing sinking slowly in her chest and went on with her life the way it was supposed to go. Aang won the war, and she became his girlfriend, and everything between her and Zuko – once so breathlessly precious – became incomplete and inappropriately tense. Whether by chance or yet another unspoken understanding, they drifted.

Perhaps for the better.

"He was really touched by the gesture," the bartender announced triumphantly as he reappeared, snapping out of her uncomfortable reverie. "He says you shouldn't have. But he's grateful all the same."

A smile worked its way onto her face, because even though she had no idea who the strange man was, it lightened her spirits to make someone happy. "He's one to talk. Besides, I wanted to," she pointed out, gesturing at her glass, already half empty. "This is really good, by the way. I think I might make it my go-to drink from now on."

"You're welcome," the bartender sang. Katara laughed because this was exactly the type of light-hearted nonsense she missed. "He really liked his drink too, if you were wondering. He wondered where it had been all his life."

Katara laughed. "I'm glad, but I can't claim all the credit for that."

"I have a steady hand," the bartender bragged humbly. "It's an art."

Apparently so is matchmaking, Katara thought, but she didn't say anything. Truth be told, she was rather enjoying herself, even if it meant she was getting set up by the bartender. "Tell me more about this guy," she ordered, resting her chin on a hand. "What does he look like?"

"Well, he's definitely tall and mysterious," the bartender declared, planting both hands on the dark wooden countertop.

"Mysterious?" Katara's brow furrowed in curiosity. "How so?"

"Well he's got this dark cloak and hood on, so I couldn't really see much of his face," the bartender explained, rubbing at his jaw in thought.

Katara felt distinctly cheated. "I thought you said he was cute!" she complained.

The bartender shrugged. "He is, from what I could see anyway. My intuition is never wrong about these things, trust me."

She raised an eyebrow, feeling more and more like she should just chalk the whole thing up to bad judgment, finish her drink, and walk back to Sokka and Suki's apartment before either of them got back home.

"I told him you were gorgeous, in case you were wondering," the bartender continued blithely.

Katara flushed a deep purple that she hoped wasn't too visible in the dim light, but the way he chuckled in response suggested otherwise. "Was that before or after he sent me the drink?"

"After," the bartender reassured her. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm not a total amateur."

"Do you…always…try to set your patrons up like this?" Katara asked stiffly, wondering why she wasn't more affronted at his meddling when he was a total stranger and her personal affairs were frankly none of his business.

But he gave her such a dazzling smile, she found herself unable to hold it against him. "I just want people to be happy," he proclaimed. "And you two give off such similar energy, I thought you might enjoy each other's company. That's all."

"Similar energy?" Katara echoed, wondering if the blue drink and loud music were screwing with her ears.

"Yeah." The bartender nodded. "Like you'd do well enough on your own, but you still look sad and lonely."

"I'm not sad!" Katara denied hotly, flinching at the uninvited scrutiny. "Breaking it off with Aang was the best thing I ever did for myself."

"That's great, sweetheart." To his credit, he sounded sincere. "But you're not lonely at all?"

His question caught her off guard, making her think of the last four years and how they weighed on her like an anchor tied to her foot. Being overshadowed by the Avatar and his importance. Spoken over at every turn until she felt like she was losing her voice. How liberating it felt to be able to sit here and not worry about his fragile feelings. And how being alone in a crowd didn't feel nearly as awful as feeling alone with him.

"Not as much as I used to be," she confessed, but then a thought niggled at her. "But I guess I've always been a little lonely. I don't know, maybe I'm just used to it."

The bartender only looked at her sympathetically before he disappeared again. Katara followed his retreat with her gaze until the crowd of people swallowed him up.

She swirled her drink absently, something inside her slumping at the admission. Because it was true and maybe a little sad that it had taken this long to realize it, and that she didn't really know what to do about it.

Growing up, Sokka always had Dad to idolize. He leaned on her too, trying to fill the absence created by the loss of their mother. But that void had always stayed empty for her. She used to think that by becoming that figure for everyone else – Sokka, Aang, even Toph – it would mend the hole gnawing inside her that Mom's absence had left behind.

But only now did she realize that it had only made her shoulder far more than she should have. And worse, she didn't know how to be anything else.

I didn't have to be that way for Zuko, she recalled, her mouth twisting the way it did whenever she thought of him these days. I didn't have to look after him. I didn't have to pretend. I could just…be.

Being around him didn't make her tired of being herself. And the more she grew to understand this, the more she realized just how much she missed him and their friendship. Hated that they had drifted so far out of touch that she couldn't even drop in on him like an old friend and ask him how life was treating him.

She wondered what he was up to, if being Fire Lord was still as crushingly lonely and dangerous as it used to be. How he and Mai were doing.

Something like sadness crushed her at that last thought, because even though she had long accepted that he chose Mai and sometimes teenage crushes grew into more, she still couldn't get over the way Mai treated him. The way he let her treat him –

"So don't hate me," the bartender interrupted again, only this time his voice sounded a little nervous.

Katara stared at him with a growing sense of dread. "What did you do?"

The bartender slid another one of the blue drinks over to her – a peace offering if she'd ever seen one. "Imayhavetoldhimtocomejoinyou," he mumbled so quickly the words jumbled together, throwing his hands up in conciliatory submission, "pleasedon'thateme."

She nearly toppled the remains of her first drink over. "You did what?

But then a voice cut through her scattered thoughts. A gravelly voice, deeper than she remembered, pitched with confusion and inevitability. "Katara?"

Jaw dropping, she whipped around so quickly she nearly hurt her neck. Someone tall stood right behind her, raising a hand to push a draping hood past a mess of dishevelled black hair, the glaring red scar blooming on pale skin in the dim light –

Everything stopped. "Zuko?" she choked out, sputtering everywhere because she had accidentally inhaled her own spit and of course he'd show up just as she was thinking about him, how couldn't he?

He waved a hand awkwardly in greeting, the sight of it so familiar it ached. "Hi?" The look on his face danced somewhere between apprehension and hope, as though it wasn't really sure what it wanted to be yet.

"Hi," she breathed. To her horror she felt just as clumsy.

"You two know each other?" the bartender demanded, thunderstruck.

"Well yeah," Zuko stated with a shrug, "old friends, I guess –"

It caught up with her then, the realization lagging in her brain by a heartbeat. "Wait, this is your other –" cute, newly single…

The bright red blush blooming over Zuko's face suggested that he felt at least as mortified as she did.

The bartender clapped his hands together. "I've outdone myself this time!" he announced delightedly, before grabbing at the guy sitting on the stool right beside Katara. "Excuse me sir, how would you like to move to a booth?"