Spoilers: 3x13 implied, I'm unspoiled for anything else, so please keep your reviews clean!

Timeline: Some time in the very near future of The Firebending Masters, implied reference to that episode's events.

Summary: "It's called peanut butter," said Zuko, who was already mourning the loss of half the jar to Sokka's greedy stomach.

Comments: Short thing about trust/friendship/conflict more than romance. Inspired by my new love and discovery of Maria V. Snyder's novels. This drabble was written exactly a month ago, before the trailer or leaked episodes were released. It's a general sort of scene, lacking true context, so you can interpret the situation however you choose. It's also, um, a bit weird in mood. It goes from light to serious very quickly, and how you read it is up to you.

This was posted on LJ, but has been re-written and made longer, and then it turned into Sokka/Katara sibling time.

Trust Has A Taste

"What is this ?" Sokka asked, swirling his finger into the small pot and extracting a dollop of brown goop. The stuff was greasy and the nearly slid off his finger in the midday heat, but Sokka never let food escape in his vicinity, particularly any new and exotic food. The three young travelers had stopped at the back of a food and supply shop building. It was the first day after rest-day; around the corner the noise of the morning marketplace bustled and hummed as they prepared for a week of bartering.

In the shadows of the alley wall, Katara and Zuko watched the blissful transformation slide over Sokka's face. Katara's features pinched as she examined the thick, drippy substance her brother was licking with wholehearted devotion. "It looks gross," she said.

"It tastes divine."

"It's called peanut butter," said Zuko, who was already mourning the loss of half the jar to Sokka's bottomless digestive system. "It's rare--the nuts used to make it grow only on Yamarik Island, and every jar or pot of peanut butter you see is shipped from there, so merchants can charge as much as they want."

The oldest son of the Southern Water Tribe licked his lips. "Zuko, I almost don't completely hate your country."

Zuko said, "Good," and plucked the small pot out of Sokka's fingers. "We should save the rest for the others. But," he turned the open end of the container to Katara, "Go ahead and try it before I put it away."

She cautiously dipped her index finger into the brown substance, which was gritty and thick, but smoother and more wet than paste. She held the finger before her face and avoided the boys' gazes. She licked her lips, and let her eyes drift in her brother's direction.

"You're not allergic to nuts, are you?" Zuko asked after a few seconds. He frowned, "If you are, it might trigger a dangerous reaction."

"No," replied Katara. "I'm not allergic."

"Then why--" Zuko looked intently at Katara, then at Sokka. Katara was dissecting her brother with her eyes, watching his breathing and body language. Her gaze ran up and down his frame, while the nut paste sat untouched on her finger. In a rush of humiliation Zuko recognized the girl's behavior: his sister had once watched him with the same careful examination, many years ago. Zuko remembered perfectly the intensity of Princess Azula's stare before the wave of nausea sent him to a world of blackness and pain.

"You think I'd poison you," the former prince whispered, his voice low, and threaded with bitterness. "You think I would do that, even after everything I've done to show you my loyalty."

The cheerful ease of morning was sucked out of the air, and it left a dead pocket of silence so profound that the noise of the market seemed to thunder in the distance. Zuko looked at Katara, Katara looked at Zuko, and Sokka--mouth thick with greasy treat--whispered a prayer to his ancestors that they would all leave this alley. No one grabbed their weapons, neither bender had even moved, but Sokka could feel his heart scrabbling up his throat. Every conversation between these two was a tightrope, and he'd forgotten, been distracted, when it was his job to prevent this moment from ever happening.

A leaf blew into the shaded area, carried on a breeze that smelled of oils, cloth, and vegetables baking in the morning heat. The waterbender straightened as she felt the air change. There was a bright and fevered flare in Katara's cool blue eyes, and she calmly put the peanut butter in her mouth.

She did not break eye contact with Zuko for the whole time it took to roll the nutty substance around her tongue and, eventually, swallow. She wanted him to watch, to know. Still holding his stare, she said, "Don't be ridiculous."

The firebender looked quickly away, then pushed the lid onto the ceramic jar, effectively sealing it for the trip from the town's market to the hidden temple. He tucked into his pack.

Sokka breathed, and found his voice. "Okay, guys, Sister, Jerkbender... no one's poisoning anyone, and...and we should focus on the important thing: getting that rich and salty goodness back to our campsite. Where we can eat it! Peanut butter, you say? Great stuff."

"Great," Katara echoed obediently, flatly. She stared at her fingernails, and idly licked her lips again. The rich taste lingered.

"Camp," Zuko agreed, and walked out of the shade with a stride designed to put several feet between himself and his two companions. Sokka started to follow, and looked back at his sister with raised eyebrows. She huffed as if she didn't think she needed to explain anything, and darted to catch up.

“What was that about?” Sokka whispered managing to cram a shouted lecture into a question only she could hear. “I thought he was going to kill you, or you were going to kill him. You guys can’t keep acting this way.”

“Leave it alone,” said Katara.

“He just wanted to share something nice. Give him a little bit of trust, please. He’s valuable to us. I don’t want you to goad him into something we’d all regret.”

“See? Even you don’t trust him,” she whispered, eyes locked on the young man already a block ahead of them, walking with the food pack strung across hunched shoulders.

Sokka took Katara’s hand, and pulled them both to a stop. He said, “Toph and Aang do trust him. If you can’t forgive him, at least don’t antagonize him. Please, Katara.”

“Fine.”

Feeling this was one of those big-brother moments he rarely got to enjoy with a sister as independent and bossy as his, Sokka pulled Katara into a hug. She resisted at first, then gave in.

“I’ll be nice,” she murmured. “Mostly.”

“Good,” said her brother, “Because I want a big, happy congratulations smile when I beat you both to the meeting point.”

“What?”

“Zuko’s got a head start, but he’s got the pack, and besides, he’s not a sprinter. Neither are you.” Sokka grinned and he was off: running in the direction the prince had taken through the streets of the town and into the dark and rocky forests beyond. “Last one doesn’t get any peanut butter!”

Katara stood with her mouth open for a minute, then began to run.

She knew Sokka was just doing this to make her do it; their father had used this trick. But Katara chased anyway, because she knew the trick would work. By the time they stopped she’d be too tired to fight, and then they’d be on Appa heading to the temple where she could forget this entire morning ever happened.