A/N: No prompt here.

Her chocolate hair, spread upon the crimson pillowcase, gleamed in the candlelight. Zuko idly fingered a stray curl, rubbing the silky strands between thumb and forefinger.

"Won't you ever stop doing that?"

Zuko, already half-asleep, started out of his brief doze at the amusement in her voice. "Doing what?"

"That." She jerked her chin. "With my hair."

He let a half smirk grace his face. "No." His fingers continued their work, losing themselves in her mass of wavy hair. He loved her hair; its color, its texture, the wild way it framed her face, as though possessed with her very spirit. He loved it most when it was loose and long, though, cascading down her back. Katara had once casually mentioned cutting it while they were preparing for bed, and Zuko, caught by surprise, knocked over an antiquated vase. He recalled the incident with a grimace.

"You kept your promise, though."

Katara turned her head at the drowsy murmur. "What promise?"

"That promise you made a week ago," he said. "When I was combing your hair. Remember?"

"Of course." She smiled. "You wanted me to do it, so I did."

Her blue eyes sparkled up at him, trusting. She loved him too much, he feared. The realization would strike him at odd moments of the night, and it did so now.

And he'd never do enough to deserve her. He feared that as well.

"Do you like wearing your hair loose, though?" He didn't know why it bothered him so much- it was an insignificant matter, really. But he didn't want her to wear her hair down, no matter how much he liked it; not unless she wanted to.

"Sure." Her shoulder moved in a small shrug. "It's a little hard to manage, but it's nothing big."

"But-"

"Let it go, Zuko." Her voice was soft. She knew him, even now. "Do you want to go to the Crimson Garden?"

"We never get any sleep in the Crimson Garden…" Zuko's mind filled with vivid images of what they did do in the Crimson Garden. He shook his head to clear it. "And I have meetings early tomorrow."

Her eyes narrowed playfully. "You're no fun, Hotpants."

His hand returned to her hair. "Why do you call me that?"

"What?"

"Hotpants."

She smirked, her fingers creeping towards the edge of the sheet, underneath which Zuko lay as naked as she. "You know why."

"Really, though."

The beginnings of a smile graced Katara's features, and Zuko knew by that gleam in her eye that she wouldn't answer until she'd dragged the reason for his question out of him. "Why do you want to know?"

He sighed, though it was tainted with a smile of his own. "I just do."

"You never asked before."

"Come on, now, 'Tara."

The smile withered from her lips, her lashes swooping down to cover her eyes. "Because it's silly." She bit her lip. "And… I think you need some of that, time to time. You never really had a childhood.. and.. while I can't give you one, I can give you a nickname." Her eyes met his. "Everyone deserves a nickname."

Something in the cavity behind Zuko's ribs melted. "Let's go to the Crimson Garden."

Her eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yes."

"But… your meetings."

"I don't care." He could already feel himself aching for her, wanting her. "Let's go right now."

"Oh?" Katara's tone, as Zuko rose and quickly donned a black robe, was both inquiring and playful. "No Fire Lord tonight?"

"No." Zuko moved to her side of the bed, draping a silk robe over her shoulders. "No Fire Lord tonight."

And there wouldn't be. Zuko lifted her into his arms, her sporadic laughter filling his ears. Tonight, he would indulge. Tonight, he would love her, and there would be nothing more important than that. Tonight, he wouldn't be a king robbed of his youth, but a child rediscovering it.