Disclaimer: Avatar? Mine? Tempt me not, vile tempter!
Summary: They say that if your wedding goes badly, your marriage will be a happy one. If that's true, then Aang and Katara will have the happiest marriage of all time.
Author's Note: Wow, even this IDEA isn't mine… I read a sentence fic somewhere about Aang and Katara having a food fight at their wedding and this resulted. I can't remember where I read the sentence, but if someone knows please tell me so I can give the author credit! As it is, this is about all the credit I can give…
In any case, I hope you enjoy this bit of pointless fluff. Kataang forever!
PS. Don't bother asking me what sort of ceremony this is— I have no idea. Some crazy mix of Catholic ceremonies and a random attempt at a watertribe shoutout. Eh. This is mainly crack-ish, anyway.
Nothing had gone according to plan.
In retrospect, Katara should have known not to expect anything less. She had, after all, put months of dedication, hard work, and planning into this day— by all rights and laws of nature, that meant that everything had to go wrong. Some higher power—higher, even, than the Avatar— had dictated this unspoken decree long, long before her time. She'd always know this rule… but how could she resist? It was, after all, her wedding…
Of course, having known already that she was playing into fate's hands, it was silly, (borderline stupid, really,) to have willingly invited Sokka and Toph. And to ask them to help with preparations? Katara was nearly begging to be sabotaged… Between Toph dumping clumps of weeds (in her defense, the blind girl had thought they were flowers) in random corners and Sokka insisting that the couple use the tribe's traditional animal skins as part of the décor (Aang nearly had an aneurism), it was all Katara could do to keep from drowning herself with her own bending water.
And that was just the beginning. Hell— that was just setting up. Then there had been the actual ceremony, which—spirits help her— couldn't have been more chaotic if a stampede of rough rhinos had galloped through. First, her dress (her mother's; her
"something old") met a rather unexpected end when Mai came in to say her congratulations. Instead of retrieving the card she'd stashed up her sleeve, the very pregnant Fire Lady accidentally let loose an array of arrows that, while they missed the bride, did an irreparable number on the gauzy white dress that had been innocently resting on a hanger in the corner.
Katara gawked, slack-jawed and wide eyed, at the tattered remnants that had one been a beautiful gown as a small parchment envelope fixed with the royal seal flitted to the floor beside her feet. Mai— in an uncharacteristic show of emotion— turned as red as her robes and mumbled an excuse about the twins in her belly kicking suddenly and startling her before running off to find her husband.
With this in mind, it wasn't hard for anyone to figure out what Katara's "something new" was: another dress. While it lacked the emotional connection that the young waterbender had desired, it was still quite beautiful… albeit vibrantly pink. This was Ty Lee's doing, of course. The acrobat had been the only guest smart enough (… yes, Katara, too, waited for the spirit world to freeze over upon thinking that) to pack an extra dress, just in case she tore her first doing some sort of aerial trick. Which had been known to happen from time to time.
This was how Katara found herself bedecked in a slinky, bright magenta number that clashed horribly with her dark skin and eyes. But it was better than going naked, or— worse yet— in her parka.
Still, for the sake of her remaining sanity (and sense of fashion), she decided to forgo the "something blue" all together. It wouldn't have mattered if she'd wanted to search something out, anyway— by the time she'd squeezed into Ty Lee's dress, music had started in the temple. And not, it should be noted, the music that she and Aang had decided on.
No, this music was more akin to Earth Kingdom drinking songs than to any sort of romantic wedding march. And though she had to concentrate most of her energy on not tripping and falling flat on her face, Katara spared a moment to cast Sokka and Toph a disparaging glare. Based on their smiles— and poor Aang's obvious confusion— they were the ones to blame for this. Of course, they didn't seem sorry at all; nor did the other guests seem to mind the change from tradition. Katara distinctly saw Koko and the other Kyoshi citizens bopping their heads and tapping their toes along to the catchy melody.
After shuffling (yes, shuffling… and she could barely do that in the horrid— Great Spirits, was that sequins?— magenta gown) down the aisle, she met her poor, still faintly baffled fiancé at the altar. He smiled in that loving way that only Aang could, but still his gray eyes asked her: Um, what's going on?
She wished she had an answer that didn't involve four-letter words.
The mass itself was, fitting the theme of the day, not at all what she'd planned. At first they'd asked Aunt Wu to preside—as they both (much to Sokka's loudly voiced disgust) felt a degree of gratitude to the fortuneteller for pointing them in the right direction. Aunt Wu, however, had predicted that she'd be suffering a cold that weekend, and would prefer to just be a spectator to their joy. To her villagers' delight, this prophecy proved true— though, as Sokka was the first to point out, this was the South Pole and the stupid woman had forgotten her coat, so how was this a surprise?
Of course, that was neither here nor there. When Aunt Wu had declined, Aang and Katara had been forced to find someone else. For a while they pondered over Hakoda, as he was the tribe's leader—but as Katara's father he said he'd prefer to walk her down the aisle. Which, ironically, he didn't have a chance to do anyway, as he had caught Aunt Wu's cold and didn't have the strength to stand, let alone walk. And so, he and the fortuneteller had settled for cuddling up together in the front row under a pile of animal skins and waving snotty tissues approvingly. (This was nearly more than Sokka could bear.)
Zuko's name popped up as a suggestion then, but was just as quickly shot down. They also decided against Iroh—though they thought long and hard about that—since he had already volunteered his services in catering the reception refreshments. Suki and the Kyoshi warriors weren't able to help either, as they were busy providing the couple with 24/7 protection (which neither Aang nor Katara thought necessary but Suki had insisted on; "Do you know how many high ranking officials are assassinated on their wedding day?")... But while they'd been visiting the village someone else offered their services.
This was how Foam-at-the-Mouth guy ended up at the altar with Katara and Aang, dressed smartly and prepared to wed them. No one had bothered to ask for Foam-at-the-Mouth guy's name; they didn't think he'd be conscious long enough for anyone to be able to use it. And sure enough, the moment Katara made it to the chancel, Foam-at-the-Mouth guy began foaming at the mouth, spasming sporadically, and then fainted dead away in a fit of shrieked bliss.
For a moment, everyone merely stared at him. In an unexpected show of exasperation, Katara's expression fell flat; she chucked her bouquet of wilting moonflowers over her shoulder. Mang and Koko both tried to catch them, and ended up in a catfight. Aang coughed uncertainly, then offered his fiancée a boyish smile, speaking over the brawling girls' squeals. "So does this mean we can just skip to the part where I get to kiss the bride?"
No one could find a reason to object to this, so as the band (made of Fire Nation school children, it should be noted) struck up another interesting rendition of that Earth Kingdom drinking song— and a number of embarrassed Kyoshi villagers hastened to drag away Foam-at-the-Mouth guy— Aang tied the necklace he'd made for Katara around her thin throat and brushed his lips to hers in a fleeting kiss.
Katara frowned slightly, about to protest against his chasteness— but found herself smiling soon after, unable to stay disappointed when Aang winked and laced his hand through hers.
The reception was, for many reasons, much longer than the ceremony had been. Because of the number of guests, they had to hold the party in a room built specially for the occasion: a small palace constructed of ice and rock. The stone had been imported, and was more expensive than anyone wanted to think about— but Aang, Katara, and Sokka had insisted… mainly because Toph had insisted; she wanted to be able to see at her best friends' wedding party. And nobody disagreed when Toph insisted on something.
Despite the snow-and-ice walls and decorations, the room was surprisingly warm; the Water Tribe had long since invented ingenious ways of storing sunlight, so the reception hall was just as toasty as any Fire Nation fortress. That kept many of their guests happy… but it also made many guests thirsty—very thirsty— and while Iroh had brought enough tea for an army, he'd also brought some less innocent drinks.
Needless to say, those less innocent drinks vanished very, very quickly. And they must have been quite potent, because a great deal of unusual food vanished with them; even the un-fried dough-men brought by the people of Chin were eaten without complaint. (Though many guests did trot rather hastily towards the bathrooms not long afterwards.)
There were complaints, however, about the (at this point ironic) choice of music; for a while, the band seemed to be playing on repeat. Thankfully, the Fire Nation children knew a few other songs beside the drinking one, and played them with a relish once the party had really gotten going. Katara couldn't dance much in her dress, but she certainly enjoyed watching Zuko try to work out the moves of a strange, foreign number that Aang called "The Macarena."
Of course, the cheerful normalcy didn't last. No, something had to go wrong there, too—though this time she couldn't blame the fates.
She could, however, blame her husband.
Katara couldn't say she was surprised, really. She knew—she knew first hand!—that though he was now 20; the almighty, powerful Avatar; and a solemn, well-respected diplomat of peace, Aang was a child at heart.
With this in mind, she really should have seen a food fight coming.
Or food-war, as it was. It started innocently enough: a teasing splatter of their wedding cake across her cheek. But when he'd laughed at her (innocent and benevolent, like everything else about him), Katara knew she had to retaliate. This was performed by waterbending a rather spectacular amount of punch into a tidal wave and soaking him.
Unfortunately, it also soaked a rather high number of well-respected diplomats.
Before anyone could say "bending," pandemonium ensued. Cake flew, tea soared (both in and out of their cups), finger sandwiches arched through the air as dough-men splattered against faces and walls...
The passing of an hour found the partygoers laughing, jeering, and covered with fruit pulp, sea prunes, and frosting as they filed out of the reception hall, throwing the new couple cheery waves and wishes for good health as they went. Katara and Aang, grinning childishly, waved back from behind their hiding spot: the upturned buffet table.
"Well!" Aang blew out his cheeks and slumped against the tabletop as the last guests left, the heavy double doors closing with a resound thud behind them. "That was certainly… eventful."
"Nice way of putting it," Katara drawled, casting her new husband a sideways glance. "I would have said it was…was…" The young waterbender paused, tapped a finger to her chin, then shrugged. "Actually, I can't find a word to describe it. Nothing could adequately describe that level of insanity."
"They are our friends," the Avatar chuckled, wrapping an arm around Katara's shoulder and pulling her close. She settled with a sticky squelch next to him, sighing faintly. "…is something wrong?"
Katara hesitated, playing with the pendant of her new necklace. It was beautifully made— a thin token of semi-translucent quartz, decorated with a vine-like array of waves and wind coiling around and around and around one another— and she'd loved it the moment she saw it. "No," she said slowly, still toying with the adornment, "it's just… I dunno, I somehow expected today to be perfect."
"It wasn't?" Aang straightened slightly, surprised by this fact.
"How could you even think that it was?" Katara countered—not angrily, but clearly confused by his naivety. "My dress—and this dress— were both ruined… I wanted to save something for our daughter, if we have one, to wear… we didn't keep a slice of cake to eat a year later, like you're supposed to— we're wearing what's left of our cake… we didn't even have a traditional ceremony! It was just… just…"
"Insane," her husband filled in lightly, his voice and eyes full of good humor.
"Yes!" she replied breathlessly, glad that he understood. "Nothing happened the way I planned it would…"
Aang considered this for a moment, mulling it over as he kissed the crown of her frosting-coated head. "Maybe…" he conceded after a pause. "But you know, in a way, it did."
Katara graced him with a nonplused stare.
"I mean," he clarified with a smile, "nothing ever goes according to plan for us, does it? It's like a subsection of the Avatar Job requirement. So in that way, everything did happen as was planned, because it didn't. You see?"
She blinked once, twice. Then she said tentatively:
"…sort of. I think."
"And if you really care all that much about tradition," Aang continued, tapping her playfully on the nose with the tip of a finger, "the airbenders have an old superstition. They say that if a wedding goes badly, then the marriage will be good. So they would always do something in a wedding ceremony to screw things up— funny little harmless pranks that would, in their eyes, keep the couple together."
His grin widened a fraction, gray eyes shining like molten silver in the waning candlelight. "Judging by our wedding, I'd say we're gonna be together forever."
There was something about the glitter in his gaze— about the way he smiled at her, so lighthearted… but devious. So cunning and sly that Katara felt her own eyes widen, jaw dropping to the floor as the thought struck her. "Please tell me you did not do all of this on pur—!"
But Aang cut her off with a laugh and a kiss, a kiss that held no hint of the earlier virtue and chastity. It did, however, ignite a few less-than-holy fires in the pit of Katara's belly, and she moaned her approval as he lowered her slowly to the ground, tongue trailing over the sweetness caking her face. It was, she would later admit, the perfect distraction.
"Hey…" Katara groaned weakly, aware that she was quickly losing her ability to form anything resembling a coherent sentence, "We've got to… clean up…"
Aang purred— actually purred— as he lavished her throat with hot little kisses, suckling on her earlobe when he murmured: "Don't wanna wait any longer…"
"Aang…!" Katara whined, though the effectiveness of the gesture was lost when she giggled, squirming with a smile as he teasingly nipped at her collarbone. "We've got that… lovely suite… Sokka and Toph bought us a night… ah—!"
The moan became a whimper when Aang pulled back slightly— just enough to rest his forehead on her own, gray eyes dancing— and whisper (much too articulately, as far as Katara was concerned) with a smirk: "C'mon, 'tara. What did I just say about traditions?"
Despite herself, Katara grinned.
Then she flipped her unsuspecting husband around, all but throwing him to the floor.
"All right, then," she breathed, pleased to hear her dress give with a loud, satisfying rip as she straddled the Avatar's thin waist. His beautiful face shone with love, delight, and amusement; she knew her own face reflected those emotions, even as her eager fingers danced down his front. "Untraditional it is."
And it was. Just like the rest of the day had been— untraditional, crazy, and not at all what Katara had planned. Even years later, when she reflected back on that happy occasion, Katara was unable to think of a single thing that had gone as she'd hoped.
It was by far the best day of her entire life.