Author's Note: A yes, a big heaping pile of fluffy Katara and Aang goodness. Feel the love, y'all, feel the love.

The History of a Kiss

When she was fourteen, Katara had kissed him, there in the Cave of Two Lovers. It was just a tentative, brief touching of the lips, but it had been just enough to convince her that Aang was more than just a friend and the breezy, sweet taste of him left her wanting to kiss him again.

When she was fifteen, Katara had kissed him, there in the tent just before the final battle with Fire Lord Ozai. This time there was no simple brushing of the lips. This time it was true passion and two lovers finally admitting their feelings for each other. Touching, tasting, feeling, and yet not culminating in the ultimate act of love. Their youth, their mission, their need for concentration on the task at hand had prevented that.

When she was fifteen, Katara had kissed him, there in the throne room of the defeated Fire Lord. Aang's lips stained with his blood, his breath coming in short gasps as he tried desperately to stay alive. The girl had kissed him softly, the salt of her tears mixing with the coppery taste of his blood, whispering prayers against his lips for the Spirits to spare his life.

When she was sixteen, Katara had kissed him, there in her family's tent in the water tribe village. His simple betrothal necklace proudly hanging from around her neck and her lips pressed against his in response to his proposal.

When she was eighteen, Katara had kissed him, there underneath the hanging vines and flowers covering one of the Southern Air Temple's gazebos. There were no Fire Soldier remains littering the temple, all of Aang's friends and loved ones buried and mourned, and the Temple now covered in flowers and greenery, coming to life once again. It was there they became one, bound together by the vows lovers had been pledging for centuries. They had changed in those years since the kiss in the cave. She was a tall lovely woman, widely respected for her bending abilities and her kindness. He was now a handsome young man with the world's respect, however the bright smile and sparkling grey eyes still remained. Aunt Wu had been right, Katara thought as she kissed him again, the wedding party cheering with congratulations. She had married her handsome, powerful bender.

When she was eighteen, Katara had kissed him, there in the firelight before they finally allowed themselves to come together as one, as they finally gave in to their passion, and did what newlyweds did on the night after their wedding. Their kisses, like everything else that night, had been primal, overwhelming, and had satiated their appetites for each other. It was that night, lying there with arms wrapped around each other and bodies pressed together, hearts racing, exhilaration coursing through every cell in their beings, that Aang realized flying was possible even without the air.

When she was nineteen, Katara had kissed him, there in their bedroom as she introduced him to their firstborn. It was then that Katara realized that the right to kiss him was no longer exclusively hers. This little child, the daughter they had brought into the world, would share that right. Aang's heart no longer was hers entirely. The miracle of motherhood had not prepared her for the small twinge of sadness she felt as their little daughter staked her claim on her father's love.

When she was thirty-eight, Katara had kissed him, there in the bright sunshine as their friends and family cheered around them. Their beloved daughter was now a blushing bride. Katara felt his hand squeeze hers and she smiled, knowing that he was remembering their wedding day.

When she was one hundred and twelve, Katara had kissed him, there in the stillness of their bedroom. She kissed him as she had done over those many years. Years filled with love, laughter, struggle, birth, and death. Years filled with weddings, grand-children, and great-grandchildren. Her tears fell onto his now lifeless face. There would be no more smiles, no more sparkling grey eyes, no more kisses from the only man she had ever loved. The woman sighed and stood. There would be little time to mourn. Aang wouldn't have wanted her to dwell on sadness. Her third great-grandchild would be born in a few weeks and life would go on.

When she was no longer a being concerned with age or mortality, Katara had kissed him, there in the beauty of the world beyond.