Chapter Text
Katara reclined on their bed, her baby bump softly curved beneath delicate black lace lingerie. She had gone all out—her hair cascaded in perfect waves, her lips shimmered with gloss, and her bedroom eyes were locked onto the door. Candles flickered, the room smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, and slow, sultry music played in the background.
She smirked to herself. Azula was going to lose it.
After all, they hadn't had much alone time lately, not with four-year-old Kayla in her full "tiny dictator" phase. But tonight, Katara was ready. She shifted her hips slightly, making sure the lace clung to all the right places.
Then the door swung open.
Azula stood there like a woman who had just fought an entire war… and lost. Her hair, once sleek and perfect, was sticking up at odd angles, as if she'd been electrocuted. Her silk robe was hanging off one shoulder, revealing a food-stained tank top underneath. Her golden eyes, usually sharp and deadly, were now bloodshot and haunted.
She blinked at Katara.
Katara blinked back.
"Hey, beautiful," Katara purred, arching her back ever so slightly. "I’ve been waiting for you."
Azula just stood there. Unmoving. Silent.
Then she exhaled, heavily.
"I just spent two hours trying to put Kayla to bed," Azula said, voice hoarse, as if she had seen things. "She wanted three bedtime stories, then a glass of water, then another bedtime story, then to discuss the meaning of life. And then she said she forgot how to blink and started panicking—Katara, she forgot how to blink.”
Katara’s sultry expression faltered. "Oh… um…"
Azula staggered inside, rubbing her temples. "Then she told me that the shadows in her room were moving, so I had to light every single candle in the house. Every. Single. One. And just as I was leaving, she demanded to know why Appa can fly but Momo can’t, and when I didn’t have a good answer, she called me a ‘fake smart person’ and said she needed to ‘fact-check with Uncle Aang.’”
Katara bit her lip to keep from laughing.
Azula flopped onto the bed, face-first into the mattress, arms sprawled out like a defeated soldier.
"I'm done. Kayla wins. She owns me now."
Katara sighed dramatically, rolling onto her side. "So… does this mean you don’t want to rip this lingerie off me with your teeth?"
Azula slowly turned her head to look at her. "Katara… I haven’t showered."
"I don’t mind."
"I'm covered in applesauce."
"Still don’t mind."
"I think I have a sticker in my hair."
Katara leaned over and plucked a sparkly dolphin sticker off Azula’s bangs. "Yep. You do."
Azula groaned. "I am so tired, and you look so sexy, and it is a tragedy."
Katara giggled, pulling the blanket over both of them. "Tell you what—how about we cuddle, you take a nap, and when you wake up, I'll still be here in my lingerie?"
Azula peeked at her. "Promise?"
Katara kissed her forehead. "Promise."
Azula immediately burrowed into her, sighing in relief. Within seconds, she was snoring.
Katara smiled to herself, rubbing her belly. "Well, little one," she whispered to their unborn baby, "at least we know Mommy Azula will be very prepared for your bedtime stalling techniques."
And with that, she settled in, holding her exhausted wife close.