Remember that oneshot I wrote a while ago called HEAT? Well it was really short and largely unnoticed, but I really liked it. It remains one of my favorites. If not my favorite. So I made a kind of companion to it. Kind of. And yes I'm still working on Parlor Tricks.

In other news, NO SPOILERS. Just because you can't wait until July doesn't mean I don't want to.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar

Aang was the Avatar. He represented balance, a kind of happy medium between the four elements. So it was no wonder he had so much trouble understanding Katara.

She was a waterbender, but there was so much fire within her. She had passion, she had heat, she burned him and herself and everyone around her. She went from smoke to fire in seconds without warning, she had a temper faster than a volcanic eruption.

But then Aang turned to the ocean. And he realized… Katara wasn't a forest fire. Katara was the sea.

The sea could be calm, or it could be a frenzy of storms. Katara was dangerous and beautiful and wild. She couldn't be tamed, she couldn't be stopped.

Aang was, first and foremost, an airbender. He was a breeze, a calm wind. But throw the two of them together… they were a cyclone and a tidal wave. They created tsunamis and hurricanes. They were in love. Beautiful, simple, messy, nonsensical love. There was lust and worry and compassion and caring between them, enough to create typhoons and whirlpools.

Their relationship was undeniable and sloppy and complete. It was a delicate balance.

But Katara's kisses… there was something so fascinating and oceanic about them. Her mouth was sweet, but her lips and her skin were like tropical waters. Warm and salty, but never bitter. She was delicious and addicting, and when he kissed her he was alternately floating and drowning, barely breathing. There was so much to her. So much in these kisses. So much of her passion and gentleness and heat and beauty and pain, and he wanted more. He needed more. He couldn't handle her, but he couldn't stop trying. And just when he was welcoming the end, fully aware that he was drowning, she would pull away. Just for a moment. She would pull away and let him breathe, let him ache. Let him want her and need her even more. Then she would drown him again. And he delighted in it.

He needed it.

But Katara was the ocean. She wanted to be needed, she wanted to be kept. But she couldn't. She hated that she couldn't. But she was loyal and he was loyal and they trusted each other, so she could be wild even while she was in his arms.

But she hated that she couldn't be kept. Even by the one man she wanted so badly to keep her.

The sea is unpredictable. Storms come fast and without notice. When Katara was angry, when she needed to feel wild and untamed, when she needed to be kept, she was a storm. Roiling water and crashing waves.

She would lash out.

He would redirect it.

She would apologize.

He would lash out in a very different way.

The ocean would boil.

And the next thing he knew, he would be waking up, hot and tired, beside a very naked waterbender taking long, slumbering breaths, tangled in the sheets and in his arms. All he would remember was an indistinct fog of searing kisses and burning touches.

For some time, no matter how small of an amount, she would be content. The ocean would calm. She would pretend she wasn't untamed, though he would have her either way. And until the next storm, they would be happy. And through the next storm, they would be happy. They were always happy.

So was the nature of Aang and Katara. Together, they were a mess. A beautiful, wild, endless mess, like a storm at sea. He was drowning, she was burning. But their sloppy, perfect love wouldn't let them be away from each other.

The wind would blow.

The ocean would boil.

And they would find their balance.