Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Zuko is usually a third-row kind of guy, but for this class, he sits in the back corner as far as possible from anyone else. He tries to hunch in his chair to make himself less noticeable. He knows word will get back to his father eventually that he’s registered for this class, but he hopes he can at least make it past the census date. After that point, withdrawing would leave a big ‘W’ on his transcript, and even his father would agree that this blemish would be worse than having a one-unit course called ‘The Chemistry of Cooking’ on there.

Zuko is enough trouble with his father as it is. He has been for years: not as smart as his sister, Azula, not as gifted an athlete as his late cousin, Lu Ten, and certainly not as ruthless an employee at his father’s company as was expected. To make matters worse, Zuko was majoring in chemical engineering. At first, this had been a positive choice — the Sozin family owned, among other factories, several chemical refineries — but then Azula had decided to double major in mechanical and electrical engineering, and suddenly Zuko’s choice was deemed unsuitable. As far as Ozai Sozin was concerned, his son may as well have been majoring in poetry for all the good that it would do him in what he referred to as ‘the real world.’

This class, ‘The Chemistry of Cooking,’ wasn’t a completely silly idea. Zuko needed one more unit to round out his semester anyway, and this one actually required a year of organic chemistry to get into. It wasn’t exactly rocket science, sure, but it wasn’t going to be a total cake walk, either. Well, except maybe in week 8 — that was when they were supposed to be baking cakes.

Zuko is actually quite eager to be in this class. His family had had a full-time cook growing up, but his mother had quite enjoyed cooking for fun. When Ozai was on business trips, Ursa would let the cook have a few days off for vacation while she fed her children. Zuko had many happy memories of sitting at the kitchen table, shelling peas while his mother told him stories. He remembered how proud he was the first time he was allowed to use a knife, chopping herbs and garlic for his mother. Of course, his mother had been dead for almost a decade now, so Zuko doubted very much that he had actually retained any of these skills, but he at least felt like it was a good idea to learn some of the basics. Right now, he was mostly surviving on takeout and cheap ramen, although he told himself this was mostly due to lack of time rather than skill. Chemical engineering majors spent a lot of late nights in the library.

Zuko scans over the rest of the students in the small class. He most of them are his fellow senior chemistry students. There is one girl he doesn’t recognize sitting close to him. She is furiously taking notes, her bright blue eyes darting between the board and her notebook. She clicks through her multi-colored pen and Zuko represses a smirk. He, too, had used one for his organic chemistry classes, but it had finally run out of ink midway through his junior year. If he had to guess, this girl was a junior, too, which would explain why Zuko didn’t recognize her from his chemistry cohort. He assumes she must be pretty smart — this class was really competitive to get into, and the only way she could have registered for it was if she already had enough credits for senior standing. Judging by the girl’s composure, he assumes that this is case. Even from a distance, he can see that her notes are immaculately organized, unlike his own loose scrawls around his notebook.

The first lesson is really more about cooking materials than actual cooking itself. They are tasked with their first at-home lab, which is to be completed before the the following Wednesday evening.

“So each group will get a pizza stone,” the instructor explains. “And you’ll follow the recipes to make the dough. Use whatever toppings you like! You should cook half of the dough on the pizza stone, and half on a regular baking sheet — let me know if you don’t have one of those. Follow the guidelines for writing up your analysis and we’ll meet to discuss next week. Any questions? No? Okay, great. Get in groups of two to three — make sure at least one of you has access to a kitchen — and come grab a stone!”

Zuko’s stomach knots. He had assumed all of the ‘labs’ would be on their own. He has never been one for group work, and even though he knows most of the people in the class, they’re not exactly friends. Zuko doesn’t really have friends, just casual acquaintances and people he works with at his dad’s chemical refinery for his ongoing internship.

The girl in front of Zuko is also scanning the class nervously. It’s clear that she doesn’t know anyone, and most people in the front are already pairing up — in fact, in seems that most people signed up for the class with friends knowing they would be paired. The girl turns and locks eyes with Zuko.

Shit.

Zuko panics. This girl is way prettier than he expected, and now she is smiling at him.

“Do you have a partner?” she asks.

“No.”

“…Do you want to be partners?”

Zuko cannot think of a reason to say no, so he manages a weak nod. The girl lights up and Zuko’s stomach clenches even tighter.

“Great! I’m Katara, by the way,” she says, leaning over a row of chairs to extend her hand. Zuko shakes it.

“Zuko,” he rasps.

“Nice to meet you,” she says, still smiling. “I can go grab our pizza stone and then we can make a plan to meet up?”

“Sure.”

Zuko resists the urge to bury his face in his hands as she walks away. Twenty-two years on this earth, and he still has no idea how to talk to a cute girl. Now, he’s going to have to talk to one every week for the entire semester. This really could only turn out poorly for him.

“So,” Katara says, bounding back to their section of the classroom with an enormous flat sheet. “Do you have a kitchen? We can meet at my apartment most nights — my roommate studies crazy weird hours — but if you’d like we can switch off weeks.”

“Yeah. That sound good.”

The rest of their brief conversation is logistics: when they will meet, who will bring what ingredients, and an exchange of phone numbers. Katara maintains her friendly smile and Zuko tries not to flush. He’s not really used to people smiling at him. Most of the people he interacts with are his family who, with the exception of his uncle, are usually frowning at him, or factory workers, who are often wearing protective face masks anyway. The intensity of Katara’s gaze makes him feel like he has a spotlight shining on him.

The weirdest part is, he doesn’t hate it.

“So I guess I’ll see you on Monday night then?” Katara asks as they pack their bags.

“Yeah,” Zuko says, and before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “looking forward to it.”

Katara beams at him. Zuko feels slightly dumbstruck.

“Same!” she says cheerily. “Well, I’ve got to run to dinner with a friend. See you soon!”

She darts off and Zuko slinks out of the classroom. Caldera University is a big school, but Zuko knows that Azula has plenty of friends — well, more like lackeys — who buzz around the campus. Zuko doesn’t know which would be worse: for Azula to find out he was taking a ‘fun’ class, or for her to find out that there was a cute girl in said class. Either way, she would tease him mercilessly and likely tell their father, which would only lead to his disapproval.

It wasn’t like Zuko wasn’t allowed to have a personal life, it was just very controlled. The Sozin family had a certain image to uphold — according to Zuko’s father, anyway — so Zuko’s life had always been very carefully constructed. Schooling was, of course, the major priority, but he had always been encouraged to balance it with a healthy dose of exercise and socializing, provided that both were the right type of activity. For Zuko, this had meant years of kung fu training — sufficiently impressive for his father to brag about, although Zuko was still not as naturally gifted as Azula, of course.

He had always struggled with the socializing, however. People of the acceptable social standing were, in Zuko’s opinion, terribly dull at best and downright unpleasant at worst. The only person Zuko could stand had been his ex-girlfriend, Mai. Her father and his father were business associates, and Mai was one of Azula’s oldest friends. His father had actually been happy with Zuko for once when he and Mai had started dating in high school. Things had gotten rocky when Zuko had left for college, and the long distance when Mai went to a different university had only made things worse. They had been on and off for years and were now finally off forever. Zuko had met half a dozen women in between his interludes with Mai and since the end of their relationship, but these were all brief. Most of them had been happy to spend a night in Zuko’s bed before never calling him again. He tried to pretend like this didn’t bother him, but in truth, he was rather lonely. This was not something he would ever admit out loud, and was, in his opinion, one of his many failings.

He waits for Monday with both excitement and trepidation. He has already made one error — volunteering to bring pizza toppings — which means he spends forty-five minutes ambling through the grocery store in a state of minor panic. Surely he should bring more than just cheese, but what? Pepperoni seems obvious, but he forgot to ask Katara if she was a vegetarian, and he’s too stubborn to text her about it. Even picking vegetables seems risky. What if she hated olives? What if she thought he was being pretentious opting for fresh arugula? Or would that be cool?

In the end, he grabs a block of cheddar cheese, a small packet of salami, a handful of spinach, and the only decent-looking tomatoes that can be found in January. He buys himself some extra ramen, too, because all this time wasted wandering around means he’s starving.

He arrives at Katara’s apartment building at six thirty precisely, their agreed-upon time. He shoots her a quick text and two minutes later, she greets him at the front door to let him in.

“Hey, Zuko,” she says casually. “How was your weekend?”

“Fine.”

There is an awkward pause as he follows her up the stairs. He realizes much too late that the awkwardness is his fault.

“Okay,” Katara says a little warily. “Well, welcome to my apartment. My roommate is out — like I said, she studies like crazy. I mean, it’s only week two of classes! We’re both pre-med, but even I don’t study as much as her. Might come back to bite me if I decide to retake the MCAT… I just took it a week ago, but we don’t have our scores back for a while.”

Zuko steps inside and looks carefully around. The apartment is sparse, but not cold, like Zuko’s. Although the futon in the living room looks ten years old, there is a colorful throw draped over it, and there are a few picture frames on the walls. Katara continues to chatter as he removes his shoes and follows her into the kitchen.

“I’m so excited to be in this class. I mean, it’s really hard to get into because so many people want it. I thought for sure I wouldn’t get in until I was a senior, but there was one last spot open. I think it will be really fun, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

Katara’s face falls slightly. Zuko shrinks a bit.

Seriously, Zuko a voice that sounds suspiciously like his sister hisses in his head. Could you be more socially dysfunctional? Give the poor woman something to work with for Agni’s sake.

“Uh, I didn’t know if you were vegetarian,” he says quickly, holding up his bag of groceries.

“Oh, I’m not, but I do try to eat vegetarian as much as possible,” she says, looking a little relieved Zuko can speak in more than one-word sentences. “This is great. Thanks, Zuko.”

“Don’t mention it,” Zuko says uncomfortably.

“Well, should we get started then? Here’s an apron.”

Zuko balks — the apron has big, Hawaiian print flowers all over it — but it seems rude to refuse, so he tugs it on. At least it’s red and not sky blue, like Katara’s. Blue always washes him out, but it looks great on her. Not that he allows himself to think this for long, and he quickly focuses on the recipe in front of them.

Making the dough is fairly simple, and it gives them neutral ground for discussion. By the time they are finished and have popped the small pizzas into the oven, they have exhausted all topics related to pizza and fall into another awkward pause.

“So, uh,” Zuko says hesitantly. He’s not much of a conversationalist, but Katara has been trying so hard to be polite. He feels like he owes her one feeble attempt at least. “Why did you choose to take this class? I mean, I know you said you thought it would be fun, but…”

He feels himself cringing slightly at his own social ineptitude, but Katara gives him a kind smile, and he relaxes a bit.

“I grew up cooking for my family,” she explains. “I’ve done a lot of trial and error in the kitchen, but I thought it would be nice to know why stuff happens. Plus, I really did like organic chemistry, and there’s supposed to be a lot of it in this class.”

Zuko gives Katara a weak smile. There’s a bit of flour in her dark hair that he should probably tell her about, but it helps him imagine a younger version of her experimenting in the kitchen.

“What about you?” she asks. “Why did you take this class?”

“I used to cook with my mom.”

Zuko freezes. He had not meant to admit this out loud. This was why he was terrible at socializing: he never could keep his mouth shut when he needed to.

Katara’s smile falters.

“Used to?”

“Uh, yeah. She, uh, died. When I was a kid.”

Zuko braces himself for the worst. Not twenty minutes into their first assignment and he’s spilling his guts about his deceased mother. Way to set the mood, Sozin, he scolds himself.

But Katara does not react the way most people do, with a distant and slightly scared smile, like having a dead mother was an infectious thing that would happen to them if they spent too long talking about it. Instead, her expression grows serious, but her eyes sparkle with warmth.

“I’m sorry,” she says with great feeling. “I lost my mom, too. That’s why I was the cook in my family.”

Zuko blinks, stunned. Losing a parent at his age, while not unheard of, was pretty rare. He feels a strange rush of affection at the look on her face.

She gets it, he thinks with wonder. She knows what it’s like.

“How old were you?”

“Seven.”

Zuko tries not to wince. It wasn’t like this was a competition, but seven was horrible to contemplate.

“I was eleven,” he admits. “Cancer.”

“Mine too. Breast?”

“Lymphoma.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too. About your mom, that is. It sucks.”

Katara gives a humorless laugh.

“Yeah, it sucks.”

Another silence falls, but it feels less awkward. Katara gets up to peer into the oven at the pizza. Zuko, unsure of what to do with himself, follows.

“They look pretty good,” Katara says. “Five more minutes?”

“Yeah, that’s good.”

“Want something to drink?”

“Sure.”

Katara offers him a mineral water, which Zuko accepts gratefully. It gives him something to do with his mouth other than talk. He lets Katara take control of the conversation, but he’s surprised to find how much he ends up contributing. She has a weird way of getting him to tell her things. There’s something about her eyes that mesmerize him. More than once he blurts out exactly what’s in his head — a habit he’s always tried to break himself of, given how prone to anger his father was when Zuko would share his opinions — but every time he does, Katara just laughs or smiles. The rooms feels unusually warm. Zuko tries to rationalize that it is because of the oven and their pizzas, but even half an hour after the pizza has cooled, he still has clammy palms.

It would be absolute folly to ask out his lab partner after just one evening, but it’s a tempting idea. Zuko is surprised by how much they have in common: the loss of a beloved parent, a passion for their work and education, a love of the same bad movies. There is plenty that they don’t have in common — for one thing, Katara speaks about her father and brother in glowing terms, while Zuko avoids talking about his family altogether — but somehow that just makes Katara more alluring. Zuko wants to know everything about her. Perhaps if things go well during the semester, well… it wasn’t crazy to think something could happen. Zuko knew he wasn’t bad-looking, and if she could handle how awkward he was right now during their meal together, surely she could handle going out to dinner with him? He could sense things out, take his time…

Katara’s phone buzzes on the table, interrupting a lively debate about sports. Katara is passionately explaining how the Water Tribe Polar Dogs are the best basketball team ever — she is adorably wrong, as Zuko explains that it is the Fire Nation Dragons who are actually the best — but she abruptly cuts off at the sound. Zuko sneaks a peak before Katara snatches up her phone. The display reads ‘Aang❤️ at the top, and the screen lights up with the smiling face of a young, bald, tattooed man.

“Hang on, sorry,” Katara says apologetically. She swipes to answer the phone. “Hey sweetie, what’s up?”

Zuko swallows his disappointment. Of course a girl like Katara has a boyfriend. Zuko shouldn’t be surprised, really. He might not know her well yet, but it is clear to him that Katara is smart, kind-hearted, and really, really pretty. He certainly wouldn’t be the first person to be attracted to her.

Zuko tries not to eavesdrop, but there’s not really a good way to avoid it. He catches Katara frowning and he quickly pulls out his phone to find some sort of distraction.

“Oh, well, I’m sort of in the middle of an assignment with my lab partner… but uh, yeah, if you’re already here. Hang on,” she says. She looks up at Zuko, who is refreshing his email in the hopes that he will find an excuse to not be part of this conversation. “So, my boyfriend decided to surprise me and come over, and he’s right outside now… do you mind if he joins us?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Thanks,” Katara says, looking relieved. She pulls her phone back up to her face. “Okay, I’ll be right down.”

She hangs up and shoots Zuko a grateful look.

“Sorry, he likes to surprise me sometimes.”

“That sounds… nice?”

Katara smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Yes, it is. Although I wish he’d give me a bit more of a head’s up sometimes. Anyway, I’ll be right back and then we can finish writing up our notes together, okay?”

Katara grabs her keys and leaves Zuko alone in the apartment. He tries to quiet the dark part of him that is pleased by all this. Trouble in paradise, it whispers. Maybe she’s not as taken as you might think.

I am not going to get involved, he vows to himself, shaking away his unwelcome thoughts. Whatever is going on between Katara and her boyfriend is none of my business.

The door opens and Katara enters followed by the man pictured on her phone. He spots Zuko and grins.

“Hey, I’m Aang!” he says enthusiastically. “Sorry to interrupt the party.”

“It’s fine,” Zuko says, trying to follow Katara’s lead.

“Katara, do you have anything to eat? I forgot to grab something before leaving the gym.”

“Oh,” Katara says, looking slightly flustered. “We have some leftover pizza, but it has meat on it.”

Aang takes a look at the table and wrinkles his nose. He catches Zuko’s eye and explains.

“I’m a vegetarian.”

“Cool,” is all Zuko can think to respond.

“It’s okay,” Katara says. “I can make you some pasta.”

Katara sets about pulling together a quick meal while Aang settles into her empty chair. Aang, still in his gym clothes, stretches his arms out.

“So, Zuko, you’re a chemistry major, too?”

“Chemical engineering, actually,” he corrects.

He shoots Katara a glance — why the hell was she cooking when Aang was the one who had just showed up, unannounced, at her place? Aang seems oblivious to Zuko’s questioning gaze, and even more oblivious to the slight crease in Katara’s forehead. Instead, he smiles at Zuko.

“Wow, that sounds really interesting,” he says with genuine enthusiasm. “What does a chemical engineer do?”

Zuko spits out a halting explanation while Aang peppers him with questions. He relaxes a bit the first time Katara joins in the conversation, and even more when she finally joins them again, setting a heaping bowl of pasta in front of Aang. Aang dumps all of the leftover vegetables from the pizza-making on top and digs in.

“Thanks, sweetie,” he says to Katara. “You’re the best.”

He leans over and kisses her cheek. Zuko averts his gaze, but he’s glad to see that Katara doesn’t look as upset when he looks up. Perhaps he had been reading into things too much. Maybe she had been annoyed that Zuko was there, interrupting her time with her boyfriend. That was probably it.

Zuko and Katara quickly go through the worksheet on their assignment — rating the difference in cook time, crust integrity, and overall quality of their two pizzas — before Zuko packs up to leave.

“I’ll see you in class on Wednesday,” Katara says kindly. “And next time we can meet at your place if you prefer? Might be nice to switch off every once in a while.”

“Sure,” Zuko agrees.

“Nice to meet you, Zuko!” Aang calls cheerfully from the kitchen.

“You, too,” Zuko says with slightly less excitement. Katara gives him an apologetic smile.

“Thanks for staying a little late,” she adds. “You know, because…”

“It’s cool,” Zuko assures her quickly. “You’ve got a personal life.”

Before Katara can add anything else, Zuko steps out of the front door.

“See you Wednesday, Katara.”

“Walk home safe!”

Zuko huffs a laugh — he’s certainly never felt unsafe around the university at night — but he appreciates the sentiment. He gives a last awkward half-wave before he turns away.

As he walks home through the crisp January evening, he pulls out his phone. For some reason, he has an urge to call his uncle Iroh.

Iroh picks up immediately.

“Nephew, is something wrong?”

“What? No, uncle, I just wanted to say hi.”

“You usually do not call me on Mondays,” Iroh explains. “What has happened?”

Zuko rolls his eyes. He already regrets making this phone call.

“Nothing has happened uncle,” Zuko says irritably. “Can’t I just call to say hello?”

“Of course, nephew. I am very happy to hear from you. You sound quite well. How are your classes going?”

“They’re okay.”

“Have you made any new friends?”

Uncle Iroh is the only person who asks him about his friends, and is always disappointed to hear that Zuko does not have any. Suddenly, Zuko understands his urge to call his uncle. It’s nice to give him some good news for once.

“I think so, uncle.”

“That is wonderful, nephew!” Iroh sounds so earnest that it makes Zuko’s chest ache. “How did you meet?”

“We’re partners in chemistry class,” Zuko says. “I don’t know if we’re really friends yet, but… she’s nice.”

“She?”

Zuko rolls his eyes again, groaning.

“Uncle…”

“A woman can be just a friend, of course,” Iroh says quickly. “But if she is single, there is always a chance…”

“She had a boyfriend, uncle. And we just met.”

“Hm,” Iroh says, sounding unconvinced. “Well, tell me about this young lady. What is her name?”

“Katara.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What is it that you like about her? Why do you wish to be her friend?”

“She’s nice,” Zuko says with a shrug. “She’s a good listener.”

Zuko hesitates.

“Uh, we have a lot in common,” he adds slowly. “She lost her mom, too.”

“Hm,” Iroh says again, this time with a sigh. “I am very sorry to hear she has suffered such a loss. But I imagine it must bring you both some comfort to have made a friend who understands your grief in ways that most of your peers do not.”

Zuko’s throat feels tight. He takes several deep breaths before he responds.

“Yeah. Yeah, she seems really nice.”

“This woman is your lab partner, yes? You will be able to spend more time with her in the future?”

“Yeah. Every week.”

“That sounds very promising, nephew. I am very happy to hear that you have met someone kind.”

Zuko makes a noncommittal sound. He’s always a bit embarrassed to have these types of conversations with his uncle, but who else could he talk to about this? Azula would laugh at him and his father… well, Zuko doesn’t really need to give his father another reason to think Zuko was weak and emotional.

“Okay, uncle,” Zuko says as he arrives at his apartment. “I gotta go.”

“Thank you for calling me, nephew. I hope I speak to you again soon.”

Zuko hesitates again.

“I can call you on Thursday if you’re not busy.”

“I am never too busy for you, nephew.”

Something squirms in Zuko’s stomach. He is both embarrassed and grateful for his uncle’s affection. He is unused to such attention but craves it nonetheless.

“Okay, uncle. Bye.”

“Goodbye, Zuko.”

Zuko hangs up and trudges over to his desk. He has a mountain of problem sets to get through, but somehow the pile seems less daunting than earlier in the day. He pulls a textbook towards himself and gets to work.

Chapter Text

For their next chemistry lab, Katara and Zuko prepare a papaya marinade to use as a natural meat tenderizer, using the proteolytic enzymes to break down the protein in their steaks.

“Thanks again for hosting,” Katara says. “Aang complained all night last time about how my apartment smelled like meat. He would totally hate this.”

Zuko bites his tongue — why would he complain if he’s the one who showed up without asking you? — and nods instead.

“Sure. No problem.”

In truth, Zuko had spent an hour and a half preparing his apartment for Katara’s arrival. He wasn’t a total slob, but certainly his desk could stand to be more organized, and there were a lot of half-eaten leftovers in the fridge that needed tidying. He had even washed his sheets, even though he knew there was no chance she would accidentally walk into his bedroom. He rationalized that it was never a bad thing to have a clean apartment. He wasn’t doing it to impress her, it was just something that needed to be done anyway.

Zuko forgets about his nerves as they settle into their problem set. As their meat sits in the marinade, they sketch out how the enzymes function to break peptide bonds. Katara pulls out her multi-colored pen to neatly draw the movement of electrons between the atoms as the chemical bonds break and form. Zuko’s drawing is a lot messier, but they both have the correct answers at least.

The marinade is supposed to soak in for at least an hour before they cook their meal, so they fall into conversation.

“So you’re pre-med?”

“Yeah,” Katara says sheepishly. “A cliché, I know.”

“The world needs doctors, right? Nothing wrong with wanting to be one.”

“What about you? What do you want to do?”

“I’m going to go work in the family business,” he says, scowling slightly. “Chemical engineering has a lot of applications, but I’ll probably be put into the gas and oil side of things."

“You’ll be ‘put’ there?” Katara says with a raised brow.

Zuko shrugs.

“That’s where the money is.”

“Oh,” Katara says. He can tell she is fighting very hard to find something polite to say about this.

“Go ahead,” he says.

“What?”

“Say what you want to say.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but you want to.”

“It’s your life, Zuko.”

“Yeah, and you disapprove.”

“I never said that!”

“It’s obvious.”

Katara crosses her eyes, glaring at him. Zuko feels a flash of anxiety — he had not imagined someone so sweet could look quite so venomous.

“Oh, so you think you know everything about me, do you? That I’m so obvious?”

“I…”

“Well, for your information, Zuko, I wasn’t going to say anything at all. You’re perfectly entitled to make your own decisions.”

“Which you think are wrong,” he can’t resist saying.

“Fine!” Katara says, throwing up her hands. “I think you’re wrong! Those companies pollute the earth!”

“There are plenty of clean energy departments of those same companies.”

“Yeah, because they need an exit strategy once they drain the earth of every last drop of profit.”

Zuko has nothing to say in response to this, in part because he actually agrees with her. He has been part of his father’s company’s eco-energy side of things for his internship, but he knows that it’s mostly for show. Zuko has been trying to build up the nerve to tell his dad they should expand this branch of research — really work to make a positive change — but he hasn’t quite gotten the data he needs yet.

Katara takes Zuko’s silence as victory and presses forward again.

“It doesn’t even sound like you want to work there. You said you were being ‘put’ there, not hired.”

“I don’t want to work there,” Zuko admits. “But that’s what I have to do.”

“Why?”

“Because…”

Zuko trails off. How could he explain this to Katara?

Because my dad expects me to.

Because my dad will hate me if I don’t.

Because my dad already hates me, and he’ll hate me even more if I don’t do what he wants.

It does not escape his attention that all of these reasons revolve around one person who is decidedly not himself, but he has to spin this so Katara thinks he makes his own decisions.

“Because I think I can make a difference there,” he finishes lamely.

Katara eyes him. She does not seem to fully buy into this explanation, but she lets it slide. The timer on their marinade sounds, and they get up from the table to cook side by side. Zuko sears the marinated steak, while Katara takes care of the un-marinated one, their negative control for the experiment. They cut each steak in half and both heartily agree that the enzymatic activity of the papaya has made the steak much more tender than than their control.

Katara serves them both a salad. She had insisted on bringing this along — we need to eat a meal with vegetables, Zuko — and while Zuko had tried to protest that they really only needed to complete the basic assignment, he was secretly thrilled that this was a real meal to be shared between them. Katara may have a boyfriend, and Zuko respects that, but it is nice to have dinner with someone for once.

They are halfway through their salad when Katara’s phone buzzes from her bag. She gives Zuko an apologetic glance before she dives to check it.

“Hey sweetie, what’s up?”

Zuko tries again to occupy himself instead of eavesdropping, but Katara’s sighs are rather distracting.

“Is your roommate home? Well, will he be out for a while?… Because I’m working with Zuko tonight. Yeah, we’re almost done… Yeah, I’ll be there soon. I’m across town, so it will be like half an hour. Okay, hang tight.”

Katara hangs up and gives Zuko a tight smile.

“Aang locked himself out,” she explains. “I’ve got a spare key to his place, but he lives on the other side of campus. I’m really sorry but…”

“It’s cool,” Zuko says in what he hopes is a casual tone. “I can give you a ride, actually.”

“You have a car?”

“Yeah. I usually walk around campus, but I have to drive to get to work. I can give you lift and we can be there in ten.”

“Oh, Zuko, that’s really nice of you, but if you’re busy…”

“It’s not a big deal.”

Katara smiles.

“Okay, but I’m helping with dishes first.”

Zuko cocks an eyebrow at her.

“You don’t want to go rescue your boyfriend right away?”

“Aang always needs rescuing,” she says in a half-fond, half-exasperated tone. She gathers their cookware and starts scrubbing. “I thought making him wait for me might motivate him to pay more attention about his keys, but…”

“I take it this isn’t the first time he’s locked himself out?”

Katara grimaces.

“It happens about once a month.”

Zuko cannot think of a single polite thing to say, so he works on drying the dishes Katara is washing.

“Aang is great,” Katara is quick to reassure Zuko. “Everyone has flaws, right?”

“Right.”

“Besides, he would do the same for me.”

Zuko wonders if Katara has ever gotten herself locked out before. She seems so hyper-responsible, he’s sure that even if Aang would be willing to help her out of a tight spot, he probably never had to.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Katara asks suddenly.

“No. Not right now,” he adds quickly, trying to make himself sound slightly less pathetic. There’s nothing wrong with being single, of course, but he is very aware of just how empty his apartment and, frankly, life, is.

Katara nods. Zuko feels compelled to say something to keep the conversation going, so he says the first thing to pop into his head. As usual, it doesn’t lead to the conversation he expects.

“How long have you and Aang been together?

Katara’s expression softens, the tension in her shoulders melting into a sigh.

“Six years.”

“Wow,” Zuko says, surprised. “That’s a really long time.”

“It is,” Katara agrees. “We met on our high school swim team when I was a sophomore. Aang kept asking me out all season.”

“What made you say yes?”

Zuko has been wondering about it all week. Aang had seemed like a very friendly person, and he was tall and had a nice smile. Zuko supposed this could be enough for a girl to like someone, but he thought that someone like Katara could afford to have pretty high standards. This Aang guy had to be pretty amazing to make the cut.

Katara’s blue eyes grow distant, like she is gazing into the past.

“Aang had a seizure in the pool one day.”

Zuko’s head rears back.

“Shit. That’s scary.”

“It was. I sobbed all afternoon, even though he seemed totally fine after. That was when I realized how much I liked him. I thought he was going to die and I just felt so full of regret for having put my schoolwork in front of him.”

“But he was fine, right?”

Katara gives a humorless smirk.

“No, actually. He had a brain tumor.”

Zuko feels like his eyes are popping out of his head. He stares at Katara in horror.

“What?”

“All things considered, it was a pretty mild one.”

“A mild brain tumor,” Zuko says, his voice unusually high.

Katara smiles reassuringly.

“He’s been in remission for five years. He was really lucky.”

Zuko exhales a long sigh.

“So, you thought he was going to die and you’d regret not being with him?”

“Yeah. It was really tough at first, watching him go through all the treatments, but it… it wasn’t a bad time in the end. We became really close and when he got through it…”

Katara sniffs and wipes her eyes.

“Sorry,” she says, embarrassed.

“It’s okay,” Zuko says. “It must’ve been really great, seeing him pull through. Especially since your mom…”

Zuko breaks off, certain he has overstepped, but Katara blinks at him, stunned.

“That’s… exactly how I felt, actually.”

“Well, it must be nice. Being together after going through all that.”

Katara looks back at the dishes and resumes her scrubbing.

“Yeah, we were a real team. And we’ve been one ever since.”

Privately, Zuko wonders if their team is slightly lopsided, but he says nothing. After all, his longest continuous relationship period with Mai was eight months, and they had spent the last two only communicating via terse text messages. What did he know about being part of a healthy relationship?

With the dishes clean and dried, Katara packs her bag and Zuko drives her over to Aang’s apartment. To his credit, he does not look annoyed at having been kept waiting, and gives Zuko a sheepish grin.

“Hey, man, good to see you again! Sorry I keep cutting in on your experiments.”

Zuko gives a half-hearted shrug, which Aang seems to interpret as an accepted apology. He kisses Katara on the cheek.

“Bye, Zuko,” she says, stepping back onto the curb.

Zuko lifts a hand and pulls away before Aang can lean in to kiss Katara again.

Zuko returns to his apartment and goes to his immaculate desk to start working. He immediately gives up, and instead goes to grab clothes for the gym. He’s got an itchy feeling he can’t shake loose. He’s familiar with anger, and usually a good sparring match or weight-lifting session helps. He can’t pinpoint what’s bothering him, exactly, but he figures there are few ills in the world that can’t be solved with a little time with a punching bag.

Chapter Text

Week three dives deep into organic chemistry with Maillard reactions, a chemical reaction between amino acids and sugars that leads to browning. Together, Zuko and Katara caramelize onions and work through diagraming the process on paper. The Maillard reaction is the topic for the next week of class as well, so their first experiment is very simple; most groups will finish it in an hour or less. He and Katara spend almost three hours together.

As she had before, Katara insists that they make a meal of their experiment —we’ve got to eat dinner anyway, right?— and they decide to use their caramelized onions as the basis for a pasta dish. It’s pretty simple to make, but they take their time getting distracted by potential recipes. Even once their dinner is done and the dishes are cleaned, Zuko lingers in Katara’s apartment. He doesn’t want to overstay his welcome, but Katara doesn’t seem to mind and keeps refilling a giant mug of tea for him. They swap stories about school and twice Zuko makes snarky comments about his experience in his previous classes Katara is taking this semester. She giggles, and the sound gives Zuko a heady feeling.

For once, they are not interrupted by Aang, although Katara does mention him a few times. Zuko tries again to tamp down on his jealousy and be a good friend, although he admittedly doesn’t have a lot of experience in the friendship department. But Katara looks a little happier than the week before, so Zuko assumes he isn’t totally messing things up.

He walks home from their long evening together with a smile on his face. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he freezes when he reads the caller ID.

Ozai Sozin.

Zuko’s insides clench in anxiety. He usually sees his father for — thankfully — very brief interludes on his work days at the factory on Thursdays through Sundays. Getting a call on a Monday night was a very bad sign.

“Zuko Sozin speaking,” he says as calmly as possible.

“It has come to my attention,” Ozai’s slightly tinny voice says through the speaker, “that you are wasting tuition money on a cooking class.”

Zuko winces.

“It’s a chemistry class, actually” he says weakly.

“It’s a waste of time. You have no need for cooking. Drop it immediately.”

“I can’t,” Zuko says quickly. “It’s after the census date. If I drop it, it will show up as a withdraw on my transcript. And I needed one more unit this semester anyway.”

His father scoffs.

“Stupid boy,” he says angrily. “You should have just taken a normal, four-unit class. Or did you think you couldn’t handle it? One major is too much for you, isn’t it? Your sister has two majors and she’s not in a cooking class.”

“Azula’s majors line up really well,” starts tries to protest. “She only has to take three extra classes to double major. I could double with biology if —“

“Biology!” Ozai mocks. “Why not just drop out and join a drum circle?”

Zuko’s hands start to lose feeling. This happens a lot when his dad yells at him, but knowing that it’s just anxiety has never actually helped calm him down.

“Since you’ve gotten yourself into this mess,” Ozai says finally, “I suppose you’ll have to stick with it. But I am not paying for you to learn how to mess around in a kitchen like some sort of hired help. I will take the tuition expenses out of your work stipend.”

Zuko doesn’t argue. He knows he’s lucky that his dad pays his tuition so he won’t be in massive amounts of student debt. It doesn’t feel very lucky though.

“I expect to see that report from you on Thursday morning,” Ozai continues. “Try not to disappoint me this time.”

He hangs up before Zuko can get a word in. Zuko barely resists the urge to throw his phone on the ground.

A dark cloud follows Zuko around all week. In chemistry class on Wednesday night, Katara sits in front of him and tries to make small talk before class, but Zuko is so irritable that she gives up after a few minutes. She storms off afterwards without saying goodbye, and Zuko can feel his anger morph and mutate, latching on to everyone and everything. This stupid class has messed everything up, and stupid Katara is mad at him for no reason now. Why did everything in his life always go wrong?

His mood has not improved by Monday night when Katara and Zuko have to make dulce de leche to spoon in between cookies. They meet at Katara’s apartment again because Zuko doesn’t own any baking equipment. Aang is studying in Katara’s living room when Zuko arrives.

“Don’t mind me,” he says with his trademark easy smile. “You guys have fun. And maybe save me a cookie?” he adds hopefully.

Zuko isn’t really a dessert person, and although Katara is initially excited to make the alfajores cookies, she quickly grows annoyed. At first, Zuko assumes it’s with the recipe — the instructor had thought it would ‘fun’ for them to figure out some key steps on their own — but he soon realizes the source of her annoyance is him.

“What is with you today?” she asks finally.

Zuko glowers but says nothing.

“Seriously, you’ve been a jerk all week.”

“Oh, so I’m a jerk now?” he says hotly.

“You’re acting like one,” Katara fires back. “You’ve been rude to me ever since class.”

“Not all of us are filled with rainbows all the time, Katara.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Zuko says nothing but angrily stirs the condensed milk. Katara doesn’t relinquish the bait.

“You don’t get to come into my apartment and get all pissy with me for no reason,” she continues. “You’re supposed to be my lab partner, remember? Partner,” she emphasizes.

“This class is a fucking joke, Katara,” he snarls. “Do you really think it’s going to help you get into med school to know how to make fucking cookies?”

“It’s supposed to be fun!” she says, throwing up her hands. “And last time I checked, you were having fun, and now you’re not. So what’s your deal?”

Zuko does not want to explain about his dad. Katara might know what it’s like to lose a mother, but she definitely has no idea what it’s like to have a father like his.

“Fine!” Katara shouts finally. “Be a dick. See if I care!”

“Seems like you do care,” he adds in a nasty tone. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be fucking losing it.”

Katara opens her mouth to yell, her eyes narrowed in loathing, when there’s a quiet knock on the doorway to the kitchen. Aang’s bald head pokes in.

“Hey, everything alright?”

“Fine,” Katara and Zuko say in angry unison.

Aang quirks an eyebrow.

“Sure,” he says disbelievingly. “Why don’t you both take a seat?”

Zuko wants to protest that he just wants to get this cooking experiment over with, but Katara flounces over to the table and stares at him in challenge. Zuko sits across from her, frowning back at her.

“Good,” Aang says like he cannot see the daggers they are glaring at each other. “So it seems like the two of you are in conflict.”

“What is this, a fucking mediation?” Zuko scoffs.

“Don’t swear at him!” Katara snaps.

Aang holds up his hands placatingly.

“Sure, Zuko, you can call it a mediation.”

“What’s the point? You’re biased. Obviously, you’re going to side with your girlfriend.”

“I’m not here to side with anybody,” Aang says calmly. “You two don’t seem to know why you’re arguing. I’m just here to help things move forward.”

“I know why we’re arguing,” Katara says, crossing her arms. “It’s because Zuko is being a dick.”

“Katara,” Aang interrupts gently before Zuko can respond. “That’s not very productive.”

Katara glares at him, her jaw set. After a moment, her expression drops.

“Fine,” she sighs. “Zuko, I’m not mad at you.”

Zuko blinks at her.

“You’re not? But I was being such a dick.”

Katara smirks.

“Hah! So you admit it?”

Zuko crosses his arms protectively over his chest, anger flaring again. Aang pipes up again.

“Katara…”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. Zuko, will you just tell me what’s really wrong? I don’t like feeling like you’re mad at me without knowing what I did to upset you.”

Zuko drops his arms.

“I’m not mad at you,” he says slowly. “I had a fight with my dad. He… doesn’t think I should be taking this class.”

Katara’s face softens in understanding.

“That’s why you don’t want to work with me anymore?”

“I do want to work with you,” Zuko corrects. “I just… he might be right. This class is stupid.”

“You didn’t think it was stupid last week,” she points out.

“No, but it’s not exactly going to help me in my career, is it?”

“You don’t know that,” Katara argues. “And besides, your career isn’t everything.”

“Says the pre-med student.”

Katara gives a snort of amusement. The unexpected sound loosens some of the tension knotting Zuko’s stomach.

“Fair enough. Look, we can scale back on our experimental time if you need to focus on other stuff, but I took this class to destress a bit. I don’t want to get into fights over cookies.”

Zuko shifts uncomfortably.

“Me neither,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry I was being a jerk.”

“I understand. I forgive you.”

“Thanks, Katara.”

Aang gives a little clap and rises from his seat.

“Well, I’m going to get back to work,” he says, dropping a kiss on Katara’s forehead. “Enjoy baking, you guys!”

Zuko, who had almost forgotten entirely about Aang’s involvement in the conversation, looks at Katara with wide eyes.

“How did he do that?” Zuko asks.

Katara gives a fond laugh.

“Aang is amazing at making you forget you were ever mad. That’s why he’s an education major. He wants to help kids work through their anger so they can be better adjusted for school and personal developments.”

Zuko turns to see Aang already engrossed again in his textbooks. He has to admit, he probably would’ve gotten into a lot less trouble as a teenager if there had been someone like Aang around to force him to sit through difficult conversations instead of just running away.

“That’s a really useful skill to have,” Zuko says finally.

“It is nice,” Katara says with a smile. “Although it makes it impossible to win an argument against him,” she adds in an undertone.

Zuko smirks.

“I’ll bet.”

The space between them is still a bit tense at first, but they both do their best to be polite. By the time the cookie sandwiches are fully assembled, Zuko feels the last dregs of anxiety leave him, and he laughs as Katara tells him a story about her first ill-fated chemistry experiment at home with her brother, Sokka.

“And then,” she says gleefully, “the whole newspaper went up in smoke and we really started to panic!”

Aang joins them at the table to eat some cookies, and shares some of his own stories of Katara as a young teenager. Even though Zuko feels some lingering jealousy — Zuko’s mild crush on Katara refuses to die — he can’t help but like Aang. He is goofy and kind-hearted, and he seems very eager to make friends with Zuko. It’s sort of flattering, really. Zuko is hardly ever the center of attention, but Aang hangs on his every word. Zuko thinks this is perhaps how Aang is with everyone, but he sees a bit better why Katara likes him now. It’s hard not to feel good with such an optimistic person around.

He walks home slowly, trying not to let his loneliness curdle the fleeting happiness he feels. On impulse, he texts Azula.

Zuko: Did you tell Dad I was taking Chem395? (9:14PM)

Azula: I’ve got better things to do than follow up on your class schedule, Zuzu. But really, Chem395? Isn’t that some blow-off cooking class? (9:15PM)

Zuko: How did he find out then? And it’s not a blow-off class. You need a year of ochem to take it. (9:15PM)

Azula: I may have been at the house last week with Ty Lee and she may have mentioned seeing you when Dad was in the room. (9:16PM)

Zuko: You could’ve at least given me a head’s up (9:16PM)

Azula: Like you didn’t know he was going to be pissed. Come on, Zuzu. This is Dad we’re talking about. Wake up. (9:17PM)

Zuko silences his phone, frustrated. He hopes a late night at the gym might give him some clarity.

It doesn’t, but he’s at least tired enough to actually fall asleep at a reasonable hour. He’ll take any small victory he can get.

Chapter Text

The semester marches forwards, and despite the friction with his father, Zuko is glad to have his Chemistry of Cooking class as his outlet. He looks forwards to the lectures, but the experiments are far and away the best part. Things smooth over with Katara, and they fight less. They spend more time together outside of class, too, although it’s usually in silence at the library. Katara starts out joining him just once a week, but rapidly ramps up her nights in the library as the weeks wear on. He assumes she is just studying for her midterms, but every now and then he catches her looking off into the distance, a crease of concern on her face. Zuko wants to ask her what’s wrong, but there are always other people around. She seems happy enough when they are cooking together, so he doesn’t press.

The week before spring break, Katara arrives at Zuko’s apartment to make hollandaise sauce. It’s emulsion week in class, and Zuko decides to go all out on their meal-making. It had been Katara’s idea to have breakfast for dinner — eggs Benedict was the perfect recipe to test out their skills — but when she arrives, her smile seems forced and brittle. Zuko has already laid out all the ingredients, and he eagerly orients Katara around the small kitchen to the prep stations he has made for them.

“I figure we can make the sauce together since that’s the whole point of today. Then one of us can poach the eggs here, and the other one can do the assembly. I already sautéed some spinach for us — I was bored after class and I didn’t want to get started on my problem set. Did you bring the eggs?”

Katara stares at him for a minute, looking horrified.

“I forgot,” she whispers. “Oh, God, I totally forgot!”

“It’s okay,” Zuko says quickly. He can see tears starting to form at the corners of Katara’s eyes as he hastens to reassure her. “I think I’ve got some in the fridge. It shouldn’t matter if they’re old. And we don’t need to make eggs anyway. We can just make the sauce!”

His babbling doesn’t seem to calm Katara, who still looks on the verge of tears. He tries to think of what Aang would do in this situation.

“Uh, do you want to sit down for a moment?”

“It’s okay,” Katara says, steeling herself to get to work. “We should do the experiment. I know you’re busy.”

“You’re more important than a stupid hollandaise sauce, Katara. Sit.”

Katara gives him a watery smile and sinks down onto one of Zuko’s cheap Ikea chairs. He hands her a glass of water and she sighs.

“I broke up with Aang.”

Zuko mouth falls open. He tries to hide his surprise before Katara sees it. She stares miserably at her glass of water.

“Oh,” he says dumbly.

“It’s been a long time coming,” she adds with another sigh.

“It has?”

Come to think of it, Zuko had not seen Aang as much the past few weeks. But still, Katara and Aang had been together for years. Surely a relationship that long wouldn’t just dissolve so quickly?

Katara gives him a grimace and throws back her water like it’s something much stronger.

“Yeah,” she says sadly. “A really, really, long time.”

“Oh,” Zuko says, wishing he could think of something better to say.

“Sorry,” Katara says, wrinkling her nose. “I didn’t mean to make such a scene.”

“You didn’t,” Zuko says quickly. “When I broke up with my ex, I punched a hole in the wall. And we had only been together less than a year. Well, on and off for a while, but less than a year for the last stretch.”

Katara looks concerned.

“You punched a hole in the wall?”

“Yeah,” Zuko says, jerking his head. “That wall. That’s why that picture frame is in such a weird spot.”

The only framed item in Zuko’s entire apartment is a birthday present from his uncle Iroh for his twentieth birthday. It’s a black and white photo of his mother, something he would normally be too shy to display, but usually no one else spends time in his apartment, and he finds it darkly amusing that it covers up one of his many messes in life.

Katara, looking a little less sad, walks over and picks up the frame from its unusually low position on the wall. She lets out a short laugh when she sees the hole.

“When was this?”

“Last October.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s just a wall, Katara.”

“About your breakup, I mean. You must have been really upset.”

Zuko gives a noncommittal shrug. Katara looks down at the frame in her hands and blinks.

“Is this… Was this your mom?”

Zuko’s heart races.

“Yes.”

“She’s beautiful,” Katara says gently. “Such a kind smile. It looks like yours.”

“Everyone says I look more like my dad,” he answers automatically.

“Maybe, but your smile looks like your mom..”

Zuko’s heart is pounding so hard, he feels a little faint. He’s not sure how to respond, or even why his heart is racing, so he stays silent as Katara puts the frame back.

“Well, I didn’t punch any walls,” Katara says with a rueful smile. “Just burst out crying in the middle of the gym yesterday. That’s super normal behavior.”

“You guys were together for years,” Zuko reasons. “Crying in public isn’t that weird.”

Katara gives him a skeptical look. Zuko frowns.

“You don’t have to have your life together all of the time, Katara.”

“True. But I doubt you ever take that advice yourself.”

“That’s a fair point,” Zuko concedes with an unexpected laugh.

Katara looks slightly cheered and pulls out her apron. She insists on bringing one for Zuko as well, which he now dons without comment. It’s kind of nice, actually.

Once their meal is assembled, Zuko cautiously tries to restart the non-food-related conversation.

“Uh, so I’m not exactly great at talking about, uh, feelings…” he says with a side glance to the wall with a hole in it. “But, uh… if you want to talk…”

Katara gives him a tired smile.

“Thanks, Zuko. That’s really nice of you to offer. I’m okay, really.”

Zuko can’t help raising his eyebrows.

“I’ll be okay,” Katara says more forcefully. “I’m just… sad. You’re right, Aang and I were together a really long time. It’s a little destabilizing to not be his girlfriend anymore. It became such a big part of my identity.”

Zuko’s face pulls into a frown. Katara smirks at his expression.

“I know how that sounds, and that’s part of the reason I broke up with him. I never thought I’d be one of those girls whose whole life revolved around her boyfriend, but, well… it’s sort of always been like that with Aang. When we started dating, he was sick and he needed me so much. I was happy to do it — it made me feel like I had a purpose, and Aang was so important to me. He still is important to me. But we just fell into these habits…”

“Aang would have the slightest hiccup in his life and I would come running. Not that he wouldn’t do the same for me!” she hastens to add. “But I just… never felt comfortable asking him to do anything for me. I know that’s my own fault but once it was cemented into our relationship, I couldn’t change it. I’ve tried ever since we got to college but… I just got sucked right back in again.”

She sighs again, staring wistfully out at the dusky spring sky.

“I feel terrible,” she admits. “He tried to change things, but it never really stuck. I mentioned breaking up a few times over the past year, actually, but he would freak out and shut down… and I felt so awful that I just decided that I should try harder, that it was my fault I couldn’t keep the boundaries I was trying to set.”

“That sounds really frustrating,” Zuko says in what he hopes is a supportive tone.

Katara gives him a gentle smile.

“Yeah, it was. I just felt so stuck. I tried suggesting we just press pause — you know, see if we could restart on a better foot once we got some space — but Aang didn’t want to. So I broke up with him instead.”

“I bet he liked that idea even less than a pause.”

Katara looks down at her glass again, tears building.

“I hate hurting him,” she whispers. “But I couldn’t do it anymore, Zuko. I couldn’t —“

“I understand,” Zuko says quickly. “You don’t have to justify it. Not to me at least.”

Katara gives him another watery smile.

“Thanks. I know wanting to break up is a good enough reason to break up, but I just feel like we’ve been together so long that I need some really dramatic reason to end things. Everyone keeps asking me why we couldn’t work it out. It’s like they think I didn’t even try.”

“Anyone who really knows you knows you tried your best, Katara.”

“You know,” Katara says with the closest thing to a real smile she’s had all night. “For someone who claims he isn’t good at talking about feelings, you’re doing a really good job.”

Zuko flushes and shifts nervously.

“Well, it’s true,” he mumbles. “You’re not the type of person to half-ass anything. Especially not when it comes to people.”

Katara hugs her arms around herself.

“That’s really nice of you to say, Zuko.”

Zuko shrugs.

“It’s just the truth.”

Katara gives him a fond eye roll.

“Anyway, I broke up with him on Thursday, so it’s still pretty fresh. It was… a bad weekend, but I was looking forward to tonight. I figured nothing fixes a broken heart like a good meal, right?”

“Well, now I wished I did more,” Zuko says, looking around his kitchen. “We don’t even have any dessert.”

Katara eyes him with interest. He’s not sure what to make of her expression.

“Want to go get some?”

“Uh, sure.”

Zuko grabs his coat while Katara packs up her bag. They walk together to an ice cream shop midway between their apartments, and then Zuko insists on walking her home.

“It’s out of your way,” she points out.

“It’s nice out,” he says with a shrug. “I like walking.”

When they reach her apartment, Katara hesitates for a moment before moving in to hug him. It’s a nice hug on his end — Katara’s hair smells faintly of coconut, and she holds him with a pleasantly firm grip — but his arms are awkward around her, and he worries that his breath smells too strongly of coffee ice cream. Katara has a smile on her face as she pulls away.

“Thanks for tonight, Zuko. It was really nice.”

“Anytime,” he says, and he means it.

Katara smiles again.

“I’ll see you in class Wednesday? Or maybe in the library tomorrow night if you’re around?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

He walks the long way home. Katara is single now, and that’s a discomforting thought. Even though Zuko has occasionally entertained a daydream or two about Katara, reminding himself about Aang had always helped him push these thoughts aside. Still, he supposes it’s just as weird to think about asking her out now that she’s single — it wasn’t like she was going to be eager to date again less than a week after getting out a super long relationship.

Zuko takes a deep breath. He likes the friendship he has with Katara. Sure, she was kind and smart and gorgeous, but there was no reason why he couldn’t control himself. She needed a friend, and he should be more than happy to be that friend.

He allows himself one short fantasy of Katara returning to his apartment, desperate to kiss him, before he gets back to work.

Chapter Text

Katara is subdued over the next few weeks, although it is hard to tell whether this is due to her breakup or the heavy workload she has. Zuko spends most of his time with her in the library. They’re mostly in different classes, but they occasionally use each other as sounding boards as they work on their homework. They continue their cooking experiments each week. It is a regular habit to spend at least three hours together prepping, analyzing, and enjoying the process. Sometimes they add an ice cream trip after as the weather warms.

It’s almost two months after the breakup when Zuko runs into Aang for the first time. It’s a literal run-in; Aang is juggling outside of Zuko’s favorite coffee shop, and Zuko is staring at his phone instead of looking up.

“Sorry,” Zuko says as he helps Aang gather up the balls he was juggling. “Should’ve been paying more attention.”

“No worries!” Aang says easily. “Probably not the best spot to practice. How are you, man?”

“Fine,” Zuko says with slight hesitation. “How are you?”

Aang scrunches his face and shrugs.

“Eh. Katara told you we broke up, right?”

“Yes. Sorry to hear about that.”

This is the truth. Despite the fluttering in his stomach he gets when Katara smiles at him, he doesn’t like knowing that she and Aang are sad.

“Thanks, man,” Aang says with feeling. “Yeah, it’s been kinda rough. But I think it’s for the best.”

Zuko stares, wide-eyed.

“You do?”

“Yeah, I mean… don’t get me wrong. Katara is amazing and I miss her like crazy but… “ He gives a helpless shrug. “She was right. We were really codependent. It wasn’t good for either of us.”

“That is… really mature of you,” Zuko says. He thinks about the hole in his wall. He and Mai were admittedly not good for each other either, but Zuko had not been nearly so zen about their parting.

“I want us to be friends again,” Aang says eagerly. “But I know we need some time apart. I think it will be good for us.”

Zuko takes a sip of his coffee. He doesn’t understand Aang, but he admires his inner balance.

“I gotta run to class,” Aang says. “But it was good to see you, Zuko. Tell Katara I said hey!”

Aang grabs something from the ground that turns out to be a unicycle. He catches Zuko’s look and smiles.

“The break has been a good thing already, see? Katara would’ve never let me get a unicycle. She thought it was too dangerous. But I’m getting pretty good! And now she doesn’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“She still worries about you, Aang. Just because you broke up doesn’t mean she wants you to get hit by a car.”

“I’ve got a helmet!” Aang says with a smile. “I’ll be fine.”

Zuko gives a snort of laughter.

“See ya, Zuko!”

“Bye, Aang.”

He relays this story to Katara later in the library. They are furtively sharing the leftover scones they had made earlier in the week to learn about egg-washing techniques. Katara is amused to hear about Aang’s unicycle.

“Well, I’m glad to hear he’s taking it well. I should’ve figured unicycles and juggling would be part of his process.”

“What about you? What’s your process?” Zuko blurts without thinking.

Katara doesn’t seem put off by the personal question. She twirls her pen in thought as she chews her scone.

“I’ve been calling my brother more,” she says. “He lives in Kyoshi with his girlfriend, Suki, and they both FaceTime me. It’s pretty nice. And I spend time with you, too. You’re really helpful.”

“I am?”

“Of course,” Katara says easily. “You’re a really good listener, Zuko.”

Zuko shifts uncomfortably at the compliment. His face feels warm, and he’s glad he can hide it behind a textbook.

“Yeah, well, you’re interesting to listen to,” he mumbles without looking at Katara. He can still hear the grin in her voice.

“Thanks. Hey, do you want to go catch a movie on Friday? Students get half off on the afternoon matinees.”

“I have work.”

“Oh, right. I forgot.”

Zuko purposefully avoids telling Katara about his job, mostly because he wants to keep the worlds separate. Time with Katara is fun and free; time in his father’s factory is stifling and stressful.

Still, there’s been something weighing on him for a while, and it finally spills out.

“I could use your advice,” he says quietly.

Katara perks up. He has to repress a smile — of course Katara can’t resist an opportunity to help someone. Zuko takes a deep breath.

“I’ve been working for my dad since freshman year. He let me be on the clean energy project, and it’s been really slow going. I accepted it for a long while — science takes time, experiments don’t always go how you plan — you know how it is. But…”

He hesitates. Katara watches him with a concerned look, but she waits for him to speak again. The scones lie forgotten on top of her backpack.

“I found some… inconsistencies."

Katara looks aghast.

“Someone is falsifying data?”

“Not data,” Zuko says, shaking his head. “Or not just data. I do think someone is messing with my experiments, but that’s not the real problem.”

Katara’s eyebrows rise higher still.

“I think someone is illegally dumping materials,” Zuko says in barely a whisper. “Actually, I know they’re doing it. I just don’t know what to do about it.”

“You should report it,” Katara says automatically. “That’s a hazard for people and the environment.”

“I know,” Zuko says. “But if my dad finds out…”

There is a long pause. Katara looks nervous.

“You don’t really talk about your dad much,” she says delicately.

“He’s…” Zuko starts, unsure of where to begin. “Well, for one thing, if there’s something illegal like this happening, there’s no way he doesn’t know about it.”

“And you don’t want to get him into trouble?”

“I don’t want to get in trouble,” he corrects. “But my dad being in trouble means that I would be in trouble, too.”

“What do you think he would do?”

Zuko takes a deep breath, avoiding Katara’s gaze.

“I don’t know. I mean, he yells at me a lot, but I deserve all of that.”

“Thats not true. You don’t deserve to be yelled at,” Katara interjects fiercely.

Zuko’s heart twists.

“I’m not… the kind of son he wants.”

“And what kind of son is that?”

“My sister Azula is his favorite. She’s the genius. I’ve never been as smart as her, or as good at managing people.”

By ‘managing people,’ he means ‘intimidating people into doing one’s bidding,’ which are considered one and the same at Sozin Industries.

“My dad wants Azula to play a major role in running the company when she graduates, and that’s not even for another year. I’ll be lucky if I get to keep the eco-energy team going without three supervisors above me.”

Katara frowns.

“Can’t you go work for someone else? There must be a lot of other companies that could use your skills.”

Zuko shakes his head.

“I’ll never get a decent letter of reference if I try going somewhere else. My dad will be sure to tank things for me. Even though he barely lets me into business meetings, he’s super paranoid that I’ll reveal company secrets.”

“Like illegal dumping practices?”

“He doesn’t know I know about that,” Zuko says anxiously. “At least, I don’t think he does. If I were to report it and he found out…”

Katara mulls this over, frowning down at her desk.

“There must be anonymous ways to report stuff, right? There are all sorts of whistleblower protections, aren’t there?”

“Sure,” Zuko says. “But I know my dad. He’ll assume it was me if it was in my department.”

They both fall silent, lost in thought. Finally, Katara turns to him with a pinched expression.

“Reporting it is the right thing to do, but your dad sounds… dangerous,” she says carefully. “I wish I could give you better advice.”

“That’s okay,” Zuko says as reassuringly as he can. “It’s good to tell someone about it. I don’t want to worry you though,” he adds with a frown.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you told me. I can try to help! I’ll look into whistleblower policies and environmental standards and…”

“No,” Zuko interrupts sternly. “I can handle this myself, Katara.”

Katara looks slightly hurt, so Zuko adds more gently, “I appreciate the offer. I really do. But I don’t want to drag you into this mess. My family is… complicated.”

“I’m sorry, Zuko,” Katara says sympathetically. “If there’s anything I can do…”

“Thanks,” he says with a weak smile. “That means a lot.”

They go back to their respective homework, but neither of them focuses much. Katara suggests they go for a walk to clear their heads, and she distracts him by telling him funny stories about her brother, Sokka. They share the last scone, crumbs drifting behind them as they walk.

When they part ways in front of her apartment, Zuko seizes his nerve to give Katara a hug. She melts into him and he allows himself to hold her tighter than he has before.

“Thanks for listening, Katara.”

“Happy to,” she says with a smile. “I’ll see you Monday night, right? Fermentation week should be fun.”

Zuko nods.

“Looking forward to it.”

Chapter Text

For the first time, Katara and Zuko meet outside of their apartments for their weekly experiment. Fermentation is another two-part lab; the previous week they had made bread dough, and this week they were exploring alcohol. The university couldn’t exactly require them to make or consume alcohol — indeed, a group of classmates had volunteered to host the rest of their class for a kombucha night — but Zuko and Katara go to a local bar together. Zuko takes extra care in his wardrobe. It will be a rare evening where he doesn’t have to wear a flowery apron. He hopes his cousin’s old leather jacket will lend him a more devil-may-care image.

He waits out in front for Katara to arrive and he immediately notices that she looks especially good. Katara is always quite pretty, of course, but her dress is a little tighter than usual, and her hair is braided in a different style. There’s even a hint of makeup around her eyes so they look even bigger and bluer than before. Zuko’s mouth feels dry. He’s quite glad the purpose of their evening is to get a drink.

They had chosen this bar due to its varied selection of beer so they can get a flight to share. Katara snaps a picture of Zuko with her phone.

“To document for our report!” she explains.

“Shouldn’t you just need a picture of the beer and not me?”

“Oh, don’t be such a sourpuss. Besides, you look really nice.”

In the dark of the bar, it’s hard to tell, but Zuko thinks there might be a slight blush on her cheeks. He feels daring, and he pulls out his own phone. He takes a picture of her, but the beer is barely in frame.

“For documentation purposes,” he fires at her, and she gives him a wicked grin that makes his blood thrum with excitement.

Be cool, Sozin, he tells himself. This is a class assignment.

An optional one, another voice whispers in his head.

Still, he tells himself firmly. Don’t hit on your friend. Katara deserves a nice night out without you being a creep.

Katara does not seem to notice Zuko’s internal turmoil and takes a sniff of the first drink.

“Now’s a good time to tell you,” she says sheepishly. “I don’t really drink much, and I don’t like beer.”

“Oh,” Zuko says awkwardly. “Would you prefer wine? Or cider?”

“No, this is for science,” she says. Her expression looks so determined, Zuko can’t help but smile. She catches his eye and smiles back.

Be cool be cool be cool.

Together, they make their way down the row of beer, Katara pulling a face of disgust after most of them.

“The porter is okay,” she admits as they go through a second pass to finish each miniature glass. “And I guess these wheat ones aren’t so bad. Kind of like drinking bread. But these hoppy ones are gross.”

“It’s an acquired taste.”

“You drink a lot of beer?”

“Eh, sometimes on weekends I’ll have one. It’s sort of sad drinking by yourself though, right?”

Katara’s smile softens.

“You can call me if you want a drinking buddy.”

“You just said you don’t drink much.”

“I can still hang out,” she says with a shrug. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“No,” Zuko says quickly. “I like hanging out with you.”

Something changes in Katara’s expression, and he feels the air between them thicken with tension.

“I like hanging out with you, too,” she says quietly. “It’s… easy, being around you.”

“We argue a lot,” he points out.

Katara rolls her eyes and grins.

“Yeah, because you still won’t admit that the Polar Dogs are the superior basketball team. I mean the Dragons, Zuko? You’re such a bandwagon fan.”

“Hey! I’ve liked them since I was seven.”

“Yeah, which is when they first won the championship.”

“You know you’re just proving my point that we argue, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s in good fun. I’m not really mad. Are you?”

“No.”

“Then it’s fine,” Katara says with a shrug. “Do you want another drink?”

The plan had been to only get one shared flight, which they have already finished, and take notes, which have been written and stowed away in Katara’s purse. But Zuko does not want to leave just yet. He’s having fun and besides, it’s barely nine in the evening. One more drink couldn’t hurt.

Katara orders a cider this time while Zuko gets a hoppy ale. He offers Katara a sip and she makes another face after drinking it.

“Ugh, it smells good but it tastes so bad,” she complains. She holds out her cider for Zuko to try, and he takes a sip without comment.

“Aang and I never fought,” Katara says after a while. “I mean, we did in the end when we were trying to fix things. But we never really disagreed with each other before that.”

“How is that even possible?” Zuko asks in astonishment. “I ran into Aang again last Friday — he says hi, by the way — and he was wearing a crystal around his neck. He said it was an energy crystal. There is no way he wore that around you without you saying anything.”

Katara giggles. Zuko tries not to flush at the sound.

“Oh, Aang has always had that mystical side to him. I never really ‘got’ it like he did, though. But whenever stuff like that came up and we started disagreeing, we just… put it aside. We didn’t want to fight, so we just didn’t.”

“For six years?” Zuko says in disbelief.

“I told you. That breakup was a long time coming.”

“I guess I haven’t asked in a while, but uh… how are you doing?”

“Good, actually. It’s still kind of weird, but Aang and I agreed that we have to be apart for six months. I still see stuff I want to tell him about all the time. Or I wish I could ask him for advice about something — he was always really good at calming me down when someone pissed me off.”

“I can imagine.”

“Suki keeps telling me I should try seeing someone new,” Katara says, clutching her bottle tightly and not quite meeting Zuko’s eyes. “Sokka disagrees, of course, but I think he’d stick me in a nunnery if he could. Brothers,” she says, rolling her eyes fondly.

Zuko isn’t entirely listening to this part. He’s still stuck on the ‘seeing someone new’ idea.

“Do you, uh, feel ready for that?” he forces out. It feels excruciatingly awkward to ask, but it seems like this is the appropriate friend thing to do.

Katara gives him the same unreadable expression as before. Zuko’s insides feel like they are dancing a very fast jitterbug. He takes a long swig of beer, but it does not calm his nerves.

“Maybe,” she says somewhat evasively. “It’s kind of scary though. Putting yourself out there again.”

“Yeah,” Zuko agrees heartily. “It’s fucking awkward.”

Katara laughs. Zuko finishes his beer and Katara eyes him.

“Thirsty?”

Nervous, he thinks, but he has just enough sense not to say this out loud. Instead he suggests they play a game of pool, and he is amused to learn that Katara is terrible at it and a very bad loser.

“This game is stupid,” she grumbles as Zuko sinks his final ball.

“We had a pool table growing up,” Zuko explains, trying not to smirk at her pouting. “Just practice.”

Katara’s lips quirk upwards.

“Maybe you need a handicap,” she suggests. “For every one drink I have, you need two.”

“On it,” Zuko says, half-jokingly. Katara laughs again, and Zuko takes this as a yes. It’s only nine thirty now, still plenty of time in the evening…

Three hours and several beers later, Zuko has won four games of pool and lost one game of ‘Katara ball’ when Katara had tipsily ruled that she was allowed to use her hands. He notices her slightly move the balls before she takes her shot, but she gives him a sweetly innocent smile as she does it, and Zuko feels too happy to tell her off.

They walk back across town towards Katara’s apartment, their arms brushing slightly with each step. Katara is giggling as Zuko tries and fails to remember a joke about tea.

“Okay, I don’t remember the setup,” he says after several minutes of trying. “But the punchline is ‘leaf me alone, I’m bushed.’”

Katara gives a snort of laughter. Zuko smirks.

“It’s not that funny,” he says.

“Oh, I’m not laughing at the joke. I’m laughing at you.”

For the first time in his life, this doesn’t feel like an insult. Katara loops her arm in his and pulls him close to whisper conspiratorially.

“I’m bad at telling jokes, too.”

“I think you’re funny,” he admits.

“Funny looking!” she crows. “Ohhhh! Burn!”

“…You realize you just insulted yourself, right?”

“Oh, lighten up, Zuko. You said I was funny.”

“Yeah,” he says with a grin.

They pause in front of Katara’s building. It’s late, especially for a Monday night, but Zuko doesn’t want the evening to end yet. As far as he is concerned, Mondays are the best day of the week, even though it is technically Tuesday at this point.

“Thanks for tonight,” Katara says with a beaming smile. “It was really fun.”

“Yeah,” Zuko agrees. “It was fun.”

Katara’s gaze drops and Zuko’s stomach tightens. Her eyes flick back up to meet his, and he can’t resist mirroring her, dropping his gaze to her lips. When he looks at her again, her eyes are blazing in the dim streetlight.

Katara lifts a hand and grabs a fistful of his jacket, tugging him down to meet her. She presses up against his lips and closes her eyes with a sigh.

Later, Zuko will wonder if he should have stepped back, if he should have gently tugged her hand away from him and wished her goodnight. They had each had a few drinks, after all, and Katara was barely two months out of a long-term relationship. But this is not what he does. He is too distracted by the blood pumping hard through his veins, the feeling of elation in his chest.

He crushes his lips to hers, inhaling her scent. The smell of apples from her cider lingers, but there’s a musk underneath that is just Katara, and it erases all conscious thought from his brain. He winds an arm around her waist and is rewarded with her surprised gasp. He slides his tongue tentatively against her lips and she gives another breathy sigh. They stand there for several long minutes, much longer than either of them realize, reveling in the kiss. It is only the catcalls of some frat boys walking across the street that remind him where he actually is.

He pulls away, ready to apologize for overstepping, but Katara is positively beaming at him, and Zuko is stunned into silence.

“Yeah, really fun,” Katara says, and it takes a moment for Zuko to remember their conversation from before the kiss.

She pulls away and unlocks the building’s front door.

“Goodnight, Zuko.”

“Goodnight,” he says faintly.

He watches her walk through the door, rooted to the spot. The apartment building has windows at the end of each hallway, so he waits until he sees her step out onto the third floor where she lives. She turns to look down at him on the sidewalk, and she gives a little wave. Zuko waves back automatically, still stunned. She turns and walks down the hall so Zuko can no longer see her, and he leaves to go back to his apartment.

He lies in his bed, reliving the kiss over and over again. What did it mean? What did she want? What did he want? This last question is fairly easy to answer — he really, really wants to kiss her again — and because he cannot answer the first two questions, he focuses on this. For the first time, he lets himself get carried away with his fantasy of Katara. After all, she didn’t have a boyfriend anymore, and she had kissed him.

It doesn’t take long for him to play out a full scene in his head. She kisses him like before, but this time she invites him up to her apartment. They barely make it inside before she pins him against the wall, kissing him with breathless fervor. She whispers his name, and they don’t need to say much else. He follows her to her room — he has to take some creative license in this part of the fantasy, since he’s never actually been in it before — and they start to rip off their clothes. His brain supplies plenty of suggestions of what Katara looks like naked, but that’s not the part he really wants to focus on. He just keeps imagining those sounds she makes, the smell of her skin, the taste of her lips. Zuko’s breath starts to come in pants as the story plays like a movie in his head. Katara underneath him, moaning his name. Katara above him, with that sweet smile and nothing else on. Katara in front of him, pleading for more, crying out in ecstasy…

“Fuck,” Zuko breathes.

It takes him a minute to regain enough brainpower to clean himself up. He hasn’t come so hard in ages; his legs feel a little wobbly as he totters to the kitchen to get a big glass of water. He chugs it quickly and returns to his bed where, exhausted, he falls asleep.

Chapter Text

Neither of them mentions the kiss in class on Wednesday, or when they see each other in the library the rest of the week. Katara gives him her usual smile, and Zuko follows her lead. Besides, both class and the library are weird places to discuss a drunken make-out session, so Zuko tries not to think about it too much.

By the following Monday, he is a bundle of anxiety. Despite his best efforts, most of his evenings have been devoted to revisiting his fantasy of Katara — each time getting more and more detailed — and he hopes it doesn’t show on his face.

They meet at Zuko’s apartment for their molecular gastronomy assignment, where they will use the kit provided by their instructor to make popping boba. Katara insists this is a treat best enjoyed before dinner so she arrives in the middle of the afternoon.

Zuko tries to hide his nerves, but it comes out in anxious babbling.

“My uncle sells boba. He’s got a tea shop in Ba Sing Se. Well, two tea shops. One is the fancy kind for rich ladies who don’t work and like to gossip, and the one next door sells bubble tea.”

“That’s cool,” Katara says with a friendly smile. “I noticed you drink coffee. What does your uncle think of that?”

“He hates it,” Zuko admits. “But not because it’s coffee. Because I drink the instant kind most days.”

“Why? I don’t even drink coffee and I know it’s disgusting.”

“It gets the job done,” he says with a shrug. “And besides, I am terrible at making tea, so I’d probably be terrible at making coffee.”

“How can anyone be terrible at making tea?”

“Ask my uncle. Apparently, I’m not patient enough.”

Katara smirks.

“I can imagine that.”

“Hey, I can be patient for important stuff,” Zuko protests.

“Like what?”

Zuko can’t help it. He glances down at Katara’s lips. When he drags his gaze up guiltily, Katara bites her lip.

“How long have you wanted to kiss me, Zuko?”

Zuko thinks about denying it, but there’s a challenge in her expression that he can’t quite back down from.

“You kissed me,” he points out.

“I did,” she says, her lip quirking upwards. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

Zuko sighs, annoyed.

“A while,” he grumbles.

“You never said anything.”

“You were with Aang,” he points out. “I wasn’t going to blow up your relationship just because I thought you were pretty.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

“Of course,” Zuko says as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re gorgeous.”

For once, Zuko doesn’t regret blurting out his thoughts — the sight of Katara blushing is worth his embarrassment.

“Do you want to kiss me again?” she asks shyly.

“Of course I do.”

Katara giggles. The sound makes Zuko feel lightheaded. He finds himself leaning towards her unconsciously.

“We’re not going to get very much work done today, are we?”

Before Zuko can answer, Katara fists her hand in his shirt and pulls him to her. Zuko really, really likes this move. He’s always gone for aggressive women, but there’s something about sweet, friendly Katara showing him this feisty side that makes her even more appealing.

It’s better than any fantasy Zuko could have constructed. His apartment, normally rather dull and empty, echoes the sounds of Katara’s sighs and moans. She presses him against the counter insistently, hands roaming over his chest and back. When Zuko flips her around to press her against the nearby wall, she gives a gasp of excitement. She pulls away to give him a wolfish grin that makes his brain short-circuit before she recaptures his lips. She arches under him, pressing her hips against his. He groans as she grinds up against him, and he goes almost limp with pleasure when she latches a hot, wet kiss to his neck.

Katara pulls back to glance out the window of the apartment. They’re on the fifth floor, and most of the buildings nearby aren’t as tall as his, but it’s still broad daylight.

“Maybe we could could go somewhere more private?” Katara suggests.

Zuko gestures towards his room, hardly believing his luck. He casts a look at their abandoned molecular gastronomy kit. Boba could wait.

The blinds in his room are already drawn — he rarely does anything but sleep in his tiny room — and as soon as they cross the threshold, Katara is on him again. He inches his hand up her back and under her shirt, trying to keep a slow pace, but Katara wriggles away and tugs off her shirt. Zuko tries not to smirk.

“And you were saying I wasn’t patient,” he quips.

“Shut up.”

Katara grins and kisses him again. After a minute, Zuko raises his hand to the clasp on her bra, pausing long enough to let her nod. He twists it free and the band releases. Katara quickly strips it away, but Zuko can barely get a good look at her before she is pressing him up against the wall, grinding against him again. It feels heavenly, and when they pause for air, there is a stupid grin plastered on his face.

Katara’s intense expression softens and she lets out another giggle. She gives him a chaste kiss on the lips and bounces away to sit on his bed.

“Do you want to have sex?”

Zuko finds it hard to read her expression, but her fingers move idly, like she is twirling her favorite multi-colored pen. Zuko has noticed she does this when she’s nervous. He moves awkwardly to sit next to her.

“Yes,” he admits. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“You don’t believe me?” Katara asks, looking slightly put out.

“I do. I just… don’t want you to think you owe me anything.”

“Why would I think that?”

“I don’t know. You were —“ he mimes her nervous finger movements. “You can say no, Katara. We can just make out. I’m more than okay with that.”

Katara’s lip trembles for a moment before she leans in for another soft kiss.

“Thanks, Zuko. You’re really great, you know that?”

Zuko nods. He tries to calm his breathing to get rid of his still-prominent erection. It was true — he was happy just to kiss her — but there were certain parts of his anatomy that had been rather overexcited by all the buildup.

“Do you have condoms?” Katara asks. “I forgot to get some.”

“Uh…”

“Oh, sorry, that was confusing,” Katara says with a smile. “I do really want to have sex with you. But I appreciate you checking. It’s nice. I suppose I should double check with you. Do you still want to —“

“Yes,” he blurts out. Katara makes a very valiant effort not to laugh, for which Zuko is grateful.

He rummages in his side table for condoms. It’s been a while, but the label on the box says they won’t expire for another year. He holds one up to show Katara, not quite trusting his voice.

“Oh, good,” Katara says smiling. “Now, where were we?”

She crawls over to straddle his lap, and wow, Zuko’s imagination had given him a lot of ideas, but he could not imagine breasts this perfect.

“Damn,” he whispers reverently.

Katara almost falls off the bed laughing.

“Alright, alright,” Zuko grumbles as Katara wipes her eyes. “I told you you were gorgeous, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” Katara says, still giggling a little. “But it’s nice to hear. Most people usually compliment my brains instead of my looks.”

“Well, your brain is great, too,” he assures her. “And you’re nice, and you’re a great friend, and you’re a good cook, and all that stuff. But you are also really, really, stupidly hot.”

Katara gives Zuko a languid, open-mouthed kiss that leaves him reeling.

“You are crazy hot,” Katara says as she tugs on his shirt. “And I have spent more time than I’d like to admit imagining you naked, so if you could just help me out here.”

Zuko barks out a laugh, pulling away to yank off his shirt. The heated look Katara gives him makes him feel bold, and he goes to unfasten his jeans. Katara does the same, and before long they are entwined on the bed, their hands eagerly roaming to explore new expanses of skin.

Zuko trails a hand up the inside of Katara’s thigh, the skin soft as silk, pausing briefly before she presses herself into him with a moan. Zuko rubs his thumb against her and Katara pulls back.

“Oh, sorry, I thought —“

But the sound in his throat dies as Katara flings off her panties with such force that they land on top of the door that stands ajar. They both stare for a moment and then burst into laughter.

“Should I try?” Zuko teases. “See if I can match your athletic abilities?”

“No way can you make that shot,” she challenges.

His boxers are much less aerodynamic and barely make it to the doorway at all, but Zuko doesn’t care very much. Katara’s eyes are fixed on him with a hungry expression, and Zuko would lose a thousand competitions against Katara if it meant feeling her naked body pressed eagerly against his.

He moves his hand back to his original target, thrilled when she sighs and parts her legs open. He presses his thumb in tiny circles, increasing the pressure until Katara is moaning.

“Oh, Zuko.”

Lust is pounding through Zuko’s veins, and the world seems to shrink in on itself. Everything that matters is right here in front of him, and he continues to work his fingers until Katara comes with a a half-scream, half-moan that makes Zuko’s head spin.

“Mmm,” Katara hums happily. “You’re really good at that.”

“Want me to do it again?”

“Zuko Sozin, who knew you were so smooth?” Katara jokes. “Is that what you say to all the ladies?”

“I’m really not. Smooth, that is. I’m normally really bad at talking. Like right now, for example.”

He expects Katara to laugh, but she just smiles that same sweet smile that makes him feel like he’s floating. She pulls him in for a kiss that starts gently, but it escalates as she pushes him down on his back.

“Is it my turn to tease you?” she asks, palming his aching cock.

“I’m gonna lose it pretty soon,” he admits with as gasp. Frankly, he’s surprised he’s lasted this long. Katara is making his head explode.

“Okay,” she says, unbothered. “Do you want to be inside me?”

Zuko can’t think of anything to say other than, “Fuck, yes,” which makes Katara smirk at him.

She hands him the condom, looking a little embarrassed for the first time.

“I’m not good at putting them on.”

Zuko, thankfully, has enough brain power left to roll the condom on properly. He nods at Katara, who climbs up on top of him. Zuko tries to keep his breath steady while Katara gives another hum of satisfaction.

“Oh, fuck,” she breathes, and Zuko twitches inside her. He’s never heard her swear before.

Katara’s eyes seem to grow heavy, and her breath comes in pants as Zuko thrusts up into her. Zuko feels like he is having an out-of-body experience. This feels too good to be real, too intense to last. Katara’s moans grow louder and more uncontrolled, and Zuko can’t help going faster and faster until…

Katara’s thighs clench around him as she lets out a final cry. Zuko can’t hold back any longer, and his thrusts lose all sense of rhythm as he jerks inside of her. He grunts her name against her skin and tries to catch his breath.

They peel away from each other, sticking and slightly sweaty. Zuko removes the condom and Katara gets up to use the restroom. When she returns, she stands awkwardly in the door, grabbing her panties from the doorway above.

“Um, I guess I distracted us from our assignment,” she says with a hint of nerves.

“No complaints here,” Zuko says, sitting up. He should feel self-conscious about his nakedness, but he’s too busy ogling Katara to care much. She smiles.

“Well, I think we could use some boba to refuel,” she says.

“Refuel?”

“You know, for round two.”

Zuko stands and walks quickly to Katara, pulling her into his arms. He kisses he with as much zeal as he can muster for just having had the best sex of his life.

“Good idea,” he rasps as he pulls away.

There is very little conversation as they follow the instructions for the molecular gastronomy kit. They occasionally exchange nervous laughter, each one of them glancing away when they get caught staring at the other. Finally, Katara sets down their completed drinks on the table and grins.

“Let’s chug these and get back to business, shall we?”

Zuko laughs.

“As much as I want to see you naked again, maybe chugging a bunch of boba is not the best idea before sex?”

“Fair point,” Katara says, taking a sip of her drink. “But I still want round two.”

“Are you always this insatiable?” he teases.

Katara looks down at her drink, her face falling.

“It’s not a bad thing!” Zuko says quickly. “Trust me, I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. Like, a lot a lot. Arguably too much. Not in a creepy way, or anything. I mean, I guess that sounds creepy, but it was like, respectful. I mean —”

He’s rambling again, but Katara’s smile is back.

“To answer your question,” she says, putting Zuko out of his babbling misery. “No, I’m not usually like this. But I don’t know,” she shrugs. “There’s just something about you... ignites something in me, I guess.”

Katara blushes.

“God, that sounds really cheesy — “

“No!” Zuko protests. “No, it doesn’t. That’s… probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. And for the record, I… I feel the same way about you.”

It’s true. Even with Mai, sex had never really been fun. A release, certainly, and a more entertaining workout than sparring most of the time, but there had always been a nagging voice in the back of his head. Don’t fuck this up, it had reminded him. If you do, you’ll embarrass yourself and she’ll probably tell all her friends. Even when he had managed to do an objectively good job — he had been extremely motivated to learn how to use his hands properly, since those always seemed to satisfy — his own release had always been tempered with anxiety.

But it hadn’t been like that with Katara. They had laughed together. Multiple times, even, which Zuko had not realized was something even allowed during sex. And it had felt good, really good, the whole time. The nasty voice that told him he was a failure had finally, mercifully, shut the hell up.

He blinks at Katara, who is watching him over their shared drinks. He realizes he hasn’t moved in a few seconds, so he takes a big gulp to try to shake himself from his reverie. He is too hasty, and he chokes. Katara thumps him on the back.

“Thanks,” he gasps. “Let me take you to dinner.”

“For making sure you didn’t choke? It’s not like you were going to die or anything. I —“

“No, I want to take you out. Romantically,” he clarifies.

Katara’s lips form a smile around her boba straw.

“And then we can go for round two,” Zuko adds.

Katara beams at him.

Chapter Text

The best part of any relationship, in Zuko’s opinion, is the beginning. To be fair, he’s only ever had one real relationship. Anecdotal data suggests that some people actually still enjoy each other years into their relationships, but Zuko has no personal evidence of his own to back that up.

Zuko isn’t stupid. He knows this is just a rebound for Katara, something to help her move on from Aang. He doesn’t try to push to define their relationship, knowing it might bring a premature end to it. They have movie nights, and cooking nights, and sometimes they go out to a bar for drinks, but they never call these dates. Zuko meets a few of Katara’s friends, but she never introduces him as her boyfriend. He doesn’t mind. He’s still the one she goes home with at the end of every night, still the one who makes her laugh and smile when she’s wrapped in his arms.

He is more thankful than ever that Katara’s roommate seems to live in the library and that he lives alone. They spend less time in the library themselves — Katara points out that studying there is extremely ineffective now.

“I just spend the whole time thinking how much I want to fuck you,” she explains. “If we’re at your place, we can take a break and then get back to work. Much more efficient.”

Zuko heartily agrees. Sometimes Katara’s idea of a ‘break’ is leaning over to his side of the couch, blowing him with such vigor that he practically passes out, and going back to her analytical chemistry homework as if nothing had happened.

“Don’t you want me to return the favor?” he says weakly, still pantsless and panting on the couch.

“You will,” she says sweetly, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “I just like to get you all worked up. Makes it more fun for me later.”

“You are totally crazy,” he says in awe.

In between what feels like a parade of endless, life-affirming sex, Zuko tells Katara more about himself than he has ever told anyone else. It’s the tip of a very large iceberg, and he doesn’t want to scare her off, but he feels like if anyone will listen to him, it’s Katara. She shares things, too — pain from her mother’s early and sudden death, her doubts and fears. Zuko hopes that he gives her the same feeling of shelter she brings him.

April draws to a close and final exams start to pose problems for Katara and Zuko’s desired schedule. There are group projects to work on and office hours to go to, so Katara and Zuko have to spend more time apart. To make matters worse, things come a head for Zuko at Sozin Industries.

He has been slowly building evidence for the illegal dumping he had stumbled upon, and to his dismay, he finds a rather lengthy paper trail. It indicates that not only has the dumping been happening for years, but his father definitely knew about it. Zuko makes a copy of the records and then sits on it for a week, tortured over what to do. He toys with telling Katara, but he knows what she will say, and he knows that she is right. He should speak up, but every time he considers it, a blinding panic takes a hold of him, and he can barely breathe.

In the end, Zuko cannot live with it any longer. He carefully puts out feelers to the appropriate whistleblower protection agencies and, when anonymity has been promised, turns over his secrets. He goes through several layers of obfuscation to make seem as though someone from another department filed the report. He doesn’t want to leave anything to chance.

The relief he feels is staggering. For the first time in ages, he can fall asleep in under ten minutes. He can focus for an entire class period, and he even finds himself smiling at strangers. Katara notices his good mood, but she doesn’t ask about it. When she catches him smiling absently, she pulls him into a hug.

“You’re cute,” she says, nuzzling her face into his chest.

Their chemistry class does not have a final exam, just a short reflection paper due on the last day of classes. Katara and Zuko leave their last class together and head to the bar for a celebratory drink.

“So, which week was your favorite?” Katara asks as they wait for their drinks.

“Molecular gastronomy,” Zuko says without hesitation.

Katara rolls her eyes fondly.

“I meant the food, Zuko.”

“The boba we made was pretty good though.”

“Yes, but that’s not what you were talking about, was it?”

“No,” he admits with a wide grin. “But it was still my favorite week.”

Katara bites her lip, and they turn to find a table when Zuko gets a nasty shock: Azula is staring at him from the end of the bar.

“Zuko?” Katara asks, concerned by the look on his face.

“Hang on,” he replies.

He stalks over to his sister, who tosses back a shot of clear liquid. Ty Lee is by her side, her smile slightly frozen as Zuko approaches. Zuko can feel Katara following him, uncertain.

“What are you doing here?” he asks Azula.

“Well, hello, Zuzu,” Azula says in a bored drawl. “Is that any way to greet your little sister?”

“How did you even get in here?” he says in a low whisper. “You’re not twenty-one yet.”

Azula rolls her eyes and gives him an ugly look.

“Ever heard of a fake ID, dumb-dumb?” She slams back another shot. Zuko counts three empty ones in front of her.

“Hey, how about some water?” Ty Lee suggests hopefully.

“Give it up, Ty Lee,” Azula says nastily. “We’re not here for hydration.”

“Maybe you should pace yourself,” Zuko says anxiously. He had no idea his sister drank, especially not this much. It’s a little unnerving to see Ty Lee looking less than chipper, and he wonders if this is a common occurrence.

“I don’t need you telling me what to do,” Azula says imperiously. She turns to glare at Zuko and catches sight of Katara. “Zuzu, do my eyes deceive me? Did you actually trick some poor woman into going out with you?”

Zuko opens his mouth to fire back, but Katara speaks first.

“Zuko doesn’t have to trick people to go out with him. He’s great.”

Azula smirks as Zuko’s flushes.

“My mistake,” Azula says with acid sweetness. “Well, don’t let me ruin your fun. I’ve got better things to do than watch Zuko make a fool of himself.”

Katara’s expression blackens and her jaw clenches. Zuko leads her away.

“Leave it,” he says tersely when Katara protests. “She’s just trying to get a rise out of you.”

“I can’t just let her insult you!” Katara says fervently.

“Sure you can. That’s just how Azula is. I’m used to it.”

Katara softens and turns to him.

“You shouldn’t listen to her, Zuko.”

He shrugs uncomfortably.

“Let’s just talk about something else,” he mumbles.

Katara suggests a game of pool to distract him, but he catches her frequently glaring at the bar where Azula still sits, holding court over Ty Lee and a few other girls who show up to join them. His stomach flips; he’s used to people being mad at him, not mad on his behalf. He doesn’t want Katara to get sucked into his family drama, but it’s nice, for once, to have someone on his side.

Eventually Azula and her gang leave and Zuko lets himself relax for good. Katara looks relieved to see him smiling again, and by the time they leave the bar, she is giggling and whispering in his ear. The buzzing he feels has little to do with the beer he drank and everything to do with Katara’s suggestions of what they do when they get back to his place.

Zuko makes the most of the evening. With finals starting on Friday, Katara is planning to enter what she refers to as her ‘study bunker.’ She had done this before her midterms, too, spending the forty-eight hours before her exams alone to free herself from distractions. Zuko had been declared as distraction number one — a title which he actually felt quite proud of — but Katara had apologetically told him that she was going to have to spend the week of finals studying on her own.

“If I study with you,” she explained, “then I’m just going to spend all my nervous energy having sex with you instead of studying.”

“And that would be a problem because…?”

Katara had stuck her tongue out at him, but she promised to spend their last night together without any discussion of school work. True to her word, their evening at the bar has just been about the two of them, and for a while, Zuko allowed himself to pretend that this was something that could last.

He knew once finals were over, Katara would likely come to her senses and realize that Zuko had just been a crutch to get her through her breakup and a stressful semester. She would dive into applications for medical school and he would become just another drone working at Sozin Industries once he graduated. It was a grim future to contemplate, and although he tries to come to terms with it, he lets himself forget all this to enjoy their last night together.

He showers her with more public affection than usual, compliments her jokes and her stories. Katara’s eyes sparkle with delight, and by the time they fall into bed together, Zuko has forgotten all about Azula’s digs, all about his big work meeting on Friday, all about his final term projects he has to wrap up. Katara is the only thing in the world he wants to think about. He makes her moan so loudly that Zuko’s poor neighbor starts banging on the wall, and the two of them collapse in giggles. They don’t stop, but they do try to keep the volume down. It turns out quiet sex is its own type of fun — focusing just on Katara’s gasps, on the way her hands fist the sheets — drives Zuko wild.

Katara hums happily as Zuko slides his tongue against hers. He’s discovered she particularly loves slow kisses like this when they are lying together after sex. He trails his hands softly over the curve of her back and she sighs. She pulls away to look at him and his heart squeezes in his chest. No one else has ever looked at him like this before, so full of adoration. For once, he doesn’t remind himself that it’s just a flood of neurotransmitters and hormones making her look at him like that. It feels real, and that’s as good as Zuko knows he’s ever going to get.

The next morning, Zuko wakes early for work. Technically, he doesn’t have to go in until 9AM, but he always feels a little anxious on Thursday mornings and it gets him up early. Thursday mornings are the Sozin Industry board meetings. If they go well, the best case scenario is that Zuko’s father will strut around the building, pausing at Zuko’s desk to give him a smug and disapproving look. If things didn’t go well… well, usually Zuko got yelled at for his many deficiencies, but his dad was smart about it. He would wait until Zuko was in the lab, or on the work floor where there was loud machinery to cover up the sound of him berating his worthless son.

Zuko lingers in bed to stare at Katara. Her cheek is adorably squished against the pillow, causing her lips to part. He traces her with his eyes, the slant of her brow and the curve of her shoulder. He stays until his bladder forces him to get out of bed, and then he gets to work making some breakfast. By the time Katara stumbles out into the kitchen, bleary-eyed, Zuko is ladling hollandaise sauce over their poached eggs.

“Morning,” he rasps. “Made you some brain food.”

“Mmm,” Katara says, pressing herself into his chest. She is really not much of a morning person, a trait that Zuko finds oddly endearing. He squeezes her close and kisses her head.

“Don’ wanna go in my study bunker,” she mumbles, her voice muffled against his shirt.

“You said I’m ‘too distracting’ to study around,” he reminds her.

“You sound so smug about it,” she grouses.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” he says, pulling away to grab her a mug. “Distracting you when you’re studying is nearly impossible. Clearly, I have a gift.”

Katara huffs out a soft laugh, taking the mug to make herself tea. Zuko’s cabinets are stocked with the good stuff from Iroh, but he himself sticks to his admittedly terrible instant coffee. He doesn’t like wasting such fancy tea on himself, but he insists that Katara take as much as she wants. Some mornings, he slips a tin of tea into her backpack when she’s not looking. She scolds him for spoiling her, but Zuko notices it’s well-used in her apartment. Besides, Zuko has a large surplus; he had mentioned off-hand to Iroh that his friend liked the tea, and Iroh had been sending him extra ever since.

They get ready with deliberate slowness, neither of them eager to leave their care-free attitude of the night before behind. Zuko gives Katara a ride back to her apartment on his way to work. She gives him a long, slow kiss that makes him very happy he put the car in park — Katara’s powers of distraction are even greater than his own.

“Good luck studying,” he says finally, trying to hide the sadness welling up inside him. He hopes that there will be one last goodbye — when she is done with finals, surely Katara will want another night of fun, right? — but he doesn’t count on it. This might be it.

Despite his best efforts, Katara notices.

“Aw, don’t look so sad!” she says fondly. “It’s just a few days. I’ll be done with biochemistry on Wednesday at five. We can celebrate after!”

Zuko perks up a bit.

“Okay.”

Katara yanks him in for another kiss, just the way he likes. He smiles against her lips.

“I don’t know how effective my study bunker is going to be this time,” she admits. “It’s going to be really hard not to think about you.”

“I’ll be thinking about you, too.”

“Argh,” she says in frustration, although she is smiling. “Why do I find you so ridiculously attractive?”

“Previous head injury? It’s really the only explanation.”

Katara laughs brightly.

“Okay, I don’t want to make you late. I’ll see you on Wednesday?”

“I’ll be there.”

One last kiss and Katara is opening her door, stepping onto the sidewalk. She closes the door and Zuko waits, watching her walk to the building. She unlocks the door and turns back to give him a last wave before he leaves. He shifts in gear and pulls away, mentally calculating how many hours are left until next Wednesday at five in the evening.

Zuko arrives at work and barely gets to sit down before he spots Azula striding across the work floor. Zuko frowns; Azula worked three floors up and rarely came down to see him unless she had something to gloat about. He is unnerved by her demeanor. Azula looks slightly worried, and that’s never a good sign.

“Dad wants you in the board meeting. Now,” she says curtly.

“Why?”

“How should I know?” she snaps. “Just keep your mouth shut, okay? No need to piss him off before we know what’s going on.”

“If I’m in the room, he’ll already be pissed off,” Zuko mutters as he follows Azula. Her stilettos click across the smooth floor, punctuating Zuko’s mounting worries.

As they make their way up to the sixth-floor conference room, Zuko starts to sweat. He tries not to trip on his steel-toed boots — mandated for safety in his lab, but glaringly out of place among the suits in the room. He takes a seat next to Azula and sits as still as possible. His father paces at the end of the long conference table. Zuko spots three of his father’s best lawyers looking nervous. Zuko’s hands and feet go numb with anxiety.

He tries to focus on the meeting, but it takes most of his effort not to have a complete panic attack. One of the lawyers leads the meeting while Ozai glowers around the table. Zuko catches phrases like ‘baseless accusations’ and ‘allegations of misconduct’ as he struggles to keep his face neutral.

There’s no way Dad knows what I did, he reminds himself. The report came from the books from the fourth floor. It’s okay, you’re okay.

The lawyer stops droning on about ‘fiscal and legal repercussions’ and Ozai stands. Zuko braces himself, but nothing happens.

“We will resume discussing this matter next week. I, for one, am eager to resolve these concerns. Thank you all for coming.”

The board members, as well as Zuko and Azula, stand as Ozai makes his exit before the rest of them file out. Those present know better than to start whispering amongst themselves; whatever they say here will easily get back to Ozai, and no one wants to be on the boss’s bad side.

Zuko stumbles back down to the basement floor where he works, collapsing into his chair. He sits there until his heart stops pounding and he can feel his toes again. He drains the last of his coffee in his thermos and he gets to work.

Around lunchtime, Zuko gets called over by a coworker to help fix some of the heavy equipment. He may not be the ‘right’ sort of engineer, but he’s learned a thing or two, and he doesn’t mind tinkering a bit when it’s needed. It’s nice to have something to do with his hands. Zuko puts on his safety glasses and grabs his toolkit. He assures his coworker that he’s fine on his own and gets to work while the rest of his team goes out for lunch.

The lab is quiet except for the humming of machinery and the sound of Zuko’s wrenches as he works. Suddenly, the lights go out and the sound dies.

“Damn it,” Zuko mutters.

He left his phone on his desk and now has nothing to serve as a flashlight. He moves carefully through the hall until he’s back in the main part of the lab. Zuko hears the click of stilettos.

“Azula?”

“No,” says a deep voice. Zuko freezes.

Standing under one of the emergency lights is his father, slowly tapping the glass bottles of chemicals near him.

“My own son,” Ozai says in a deadly voice. “Betrayed by my own son.”

Zuko thinks he might vomit.

“What… what do you mean?” he tries.

“I know it was you, Zuko. You were the one that turned us in.”

“Father, I would never —“

“You would,” Ozai says, his eyes narrowed. “You are too weak and shortsighted to see my vision.”

“Your vision of what?” Zuko says, a sudden flare of anger overtaking him. “How could illegal chemical disposal and endangering people be part of your ‘vision’?”

“You have mouthed off to me for the last time, Zuko. You will learn respect, and suffering shall be your teacher.”

Too late, Zuko sees that Ozai is no longer tapping on the bottles, but instead has unscrewed the cap on one of them. Zuko tries to duck as Ozai flings the liquid at him, but he is not fast enough. Zuko feels something wet strike the left side of his face before he falls to the ground in agony.

The acid burns hotter than Zuko could have ever imagine. A scream of pain rips from his throat, an unearthly howl that goes on and on into the darkness. He can hear his father retreating into the darkness before his brain stops processing anything but the pain.

Hands, so many hands all over him. Hands dragging him under an emergency shower, hands hoisting him onto a gurney, hands holding him down as they wheel him through the hospital. His head throbs and his skin crawls. He shakes uncontrollably, adrenaline trying to help him flee from an enemy who is long gone. Once it finally fades away, he falls into a deep state of unconsciousness.

When he wakes, he is disoriented by the brightness of the hospital room. His mouth feels fuzzy, like he hasn’t brushed his teeth in a very long time. The clock on the wall says it is mid-afternoon, but Zuko realizes it might not even be the same day. He struggles to sit up, but another hand holds him back.

“Lie still, nephew. The doctors will be here soon.”

Zuko tries to turn his head, but he feels a stab of pain, and there are thick bandages limiting his movement.

“Uncle?” he rasps.

Iroh moves to Zuko’s line of sight. His eyes are red and watery.

“I came as soon as I could, nephew.”

“What… what day is it?”

“Friday. The doctors told me they sedated you to do their work.”

“Their work?”

“What do you remember, nephew?”

It comes flooding back to him: the look on his father’s face, almost gleeful, as he flung acid in Zuko’s face. The memory makes him gag. Iroh moves to place a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“You are safe now, Zuko. Your father has been arrested.”

“How bad is it?” Zuko asks in a terrified whisper.

Iroh heaves a deep sigh.

“You were lucky to have been wearing your safety glasses,” he begins. “The doctors say your eye will be fine, although they are keeping bandages over it to protect the surrounding skin.”

“And the rest?”

Iroh’s face twists. Zuko closes his unbandaged eye.

Zuko had gone through all the safety training for working with toxic chemicals. There was a reason they used fume hoods and protective face shields. He knows that under these bandages, his skin is mottled and warped. No matter what the doctors at this hospital do, his face is ruined.

Zuko had caused Ozai to lose face, and Ozai had taken his revenge.

Zuko submits to the poking and prodding of the doctors for several horrible days. They keep him under observation as a precaution, although Zuko knows that there is limited risk for his condition to get any worse. The police arrive to take his statement, to ask who did this to him, but Zuko says nothing.

“Nephew,” Iroh says seriously. “Please, you do not owe Ozai anything.”

“Who said he was the one who did this?”

Iroh gives him a stern look.

“I know my brother,” Iroh says darkly. “What he has done to you is a crime, Zuko. He must be held accountable for his actions.”

“I’m not pressing charges,” Zuko asserts. “End of discussion.”

“Nephew…”

“End of discussion.”

It’s not that Zuko wants to keep his father out of trouble. He knows his father deserves to rot in jail every day for the rest of his life. But he knows that he is the only witness to his crime, and that means that he will have to testify against him. Zuko knows he’s not strong enough to do it. He can’t stand in front of a court and tell them about what a monster his father is, not with his face burned away like this. Zuko shoos the police away again and again until they stop showing up.

A psychologist is sent to evaluate him, and he clearly fails some sort of test, because they decide to hold him for even longer and they make sure to give him plastic silverware. Zuko is too numb to feel insulted. He’s not going to kill himself. He’s not even worth the waste of time it would take for someone to clean up the mess he’d make.

Iroh comes to visit at the start and end of each day, but he’s gone most of the time. Zuko prefers to be alone — no one can fuss over him that way — but it’s only after few days that he realizes what his uncle has been up to. Iroh lays out several sheets of paper in front of Zuko, cataloging everything in his life. Iroh has boxed up Zuko’s desk at work, and has paperwork for Zuko to break his lease early and come to live with him in Ba Sing Se.

“I know it is not your dream to live there, but I thought perhaps you might want a fresh start,” Iroh says kindly.

“Yes,” Zuko says, and he actually means it. He can’t stay here, not looking like this.

“I have also reached out to the university,” Iroh continues. “Your professors have granted you extensions on your final projects. All of them say it is not possible for you to fail your classes with such high grades, so even if you do not wish to turn these projects in, you will pass. Your degree is assured, although your grades may suffer.”

“I don’t care,” Zuko says dully.

“If you would like to take more time to reconsider…”

“No. I’ll email them. I’m done, uncle. As soon as I get released tomorrow, we can leave.”

“Very well, Zuko. I will make arrangements to move your things.”

Zuko is in the middle of responding to his professors to tell them he’s willing to take a C grade and abandon his final projects when his phone rings.

Zuko freezes. It’s five in the afternoon on Wednesday.

Katara.

Zuko stares at the phone in panic, unable to move. It rings and rings and finally stops. Zuko slumps, feeling both agonized and relieved.

He briefly imagines what would happen if Katara were to see him like this. His blood runs cold at the thought. She would rush to his side, of course, which would feel comforting at first, but it would be a trap for her. She would stick around to nurse his wounds, and then she would be stuck with him, a mutilated man who wasn’t even brave enough to stand up to his own father. Zuko would be an anchor weighing her down; she would put him first, and he didn’t deserve it.

He does his best to ignore his phone, but text messages flash on the screen all evening.

Katara: Hey, are you around? I’m all done with finals! Let’s go celebrate! (5:45PM)

Katara: Wanna come over tonight? My roommate is out again and I wanna make up for lost time… (6:23PM)

Katara: Hey, is everything okay? I know you had that big work meeting last week. I don’t want to bug you if you’re working… just been really missing you this week! (8:37PM).

He doesn’t respond. The next morning, the nurses take off his bandages and Zuko sees his face for the first time. It seals his fate.

He can never see Katara again.

The doctors explain that he is quite lucky. His vision should be unimpaired, and although some of the cartilage of his ear is shriveled, he does not seem at risk for deafness, which is apparently something that can happen after an acid attack. There is no saving the warped expanse of his forehead and temple. His hair has been unevenly shaved away so the doctors could work, which only highlights the damage. Some of the acid that had struck his safety goggles had dripped down onto his cheek, so there are a few lines of ravaged tissue, like tears that snake down towards his chin.

When the paperwork is all signed, Zuko and Iroh leave the hospital. Iroh has had most of Zuko’s things shipped ahead, but they drive Zuko’s car together to Ba Sing Se. It is an eight hour drive, but Zuko is still grateful not to have to fly. He doesn’t want to see the security guard’s face when they compare Zuko’s ID to his newly destroyed visage.

Near the end of their drive, Zuko’s phone rings. Traffic is heavy, and Zuko has to stay focused on the road. He is expecting a call from the school registrar; Iroh had helped smooth over his graduation status, but he had been told a phone call might be forthcoming to hammer out the final details.

“Uncle, can you get that?”

Iroh swipes and opens the phone quickly.

“Hello, you have reached Zuko Sozin’s phone. This is his uncle speaking. How may I help you?”

Zuko merges onto the highway, only half paying attention to his uncle.

“Zuko will be alright,” Iroh says heavily. “But I regret to inform you that there has been an accident.”

Zuko’s stomach drops. Clearly it is not a school administrator calling.

“Uncle!” Zuko shouts. “Who are you talking to?”

“Don’t worry, Miss,” Iroh continues. “He is out of the hospital now and —“

“Uncle!”

“Zuko, please. Your friend sounds very upset.”

“Hang up,” Zuko hisses. “Now.”

“But nephew…”

Zuko grabs blindly at the phone. The car swerves, and someone honks loudly. Zuko rips the phone from his uncle’s hands and hangs up.

“Nephew!” Iroh says, scandalized. “You should not be so rude. The young woman on the other end was very concerned.”

“Shut up,” he snarls angrily.

“Zuko…”

“No, uncle. We are not talking about this.”

The phone rings again. Zuko silences it.

“Don’t even think about answering it,” he tells his uncle.

Iroh gives a sad sigh.

“I think you are making a mistake, nephew. Now is a time you need to trust in your friends.”

“She’s not my friend, uncle.”

“More than a friend?”

“Shut. Up. Uncle!”

They are silent for the rest of the drive. Zuko knows he should say something when they arrive — he should thank his uncle for taking him in and for helping him in his hour of need — but he is so full of anger he can barely think straight. His life has been ripped apart, and all he can think about is ripping everyone else apart, too.

Katara calls and texts him repeatedly the next day.

Katara: Zuko, please call me. I’m really worried. (10:42 AM)

Katara: At least let me know you’re okay. Your uncle said you were in the hospital. (2:16PM)

Katara: I just got home. I’m going to be in the South Pole for two weeks, and then I’ll be back in Caldera City. Can we see each other then? I hope you’re feeling okay. (11:16PM)

The texts die away during the two-week interval. The pain of missing Katara is far greater than he anticipated, but he holds his resolve. In two weeks, she will return to Caldera City and, in Zuko’s absence, she will move on. She will find someone better, someone whole, someone to make her happy. That’s what Zuko wants more than anything: for Katara to find happiness. It can’t be with him, so it may as well be with someone else. The thought makes him want to step out into traffic, but he reminds himself over and over that this is what he needs to do. He must be strong.

Two weeks later, Katara calls Zuko. He has been sleeping poorly since the incident — nightmares plague him every time he closes his eyes — so although the call is in the early afternoon, it wakes him up. In his haste to answer, he forgets to check who is calling.

“Hello?” he rasps.

“Zuko? It’s Katara.”

Zuko heart seizes. He had missed the sound of her voice so much.

“Where are you? I just walked by your apartment building but I saw there’s a new name listed for your unit. Did you move?”

Zuko shuts his eyes in pain. He steels himself. He knows what he needs to do, and he knows that it will break him in two.

“Leave me alone, Katara. Find someone else to fuck you.”

There is a gasp on the other end of the line, and he hangs up before she can respond. She doesn’t call back.

The silence is overwhelming. He replays the sound in his head, the gasp of hurt she had made.

Good, he tries to assure himself. It means she’ll stay away. She won’t waste her life on you, you worthless piece of shit.

She didn’t deserve to be hurt like that, another part of him argues.

She was going to get hurt either way. It’s better like this.

He wonders: if this is the truth, why does it feel so wrong?

Chapter Text

The only reason Zuko gets out of bed in the morning is because of Iroh. He would rather burn off the other half of his face than let his uncle down.

To be fair, Zuko does let Iroh down quite a lot over the next few months. He refuses to go to therapy despite the urging of all of his doctors, and he has a bad habit of getting into nasty arguments with people around town. He spots a businessman littering in front of the Jasmine Dragon one morning and Zuko yells at him with such viciousness that the man threatens to call the police.

Still, Zuko does his best not to bring his own problems back to his uncle. He puts his cooking knowledge to use by making dinner for them every night. When Iroh inquires about the source of Zuko’s new skills, Zuko hardly speaks to him for a week. He makes dinner nonetheless, and although most meals are shared in silence, they are not always so tense.

By day, Zuko works in Iroh’s tea shop. He had not wanted to, of course — his social skills were poor to begin with, and they were not helped by the fact that now people seemed to be frightened by his appearance. But Iroh had been short a waiter, and Zuko knew he could not face finding another job on his own. He had started in the Jasmine Dragon proper — the fancy tea house — but had switched to the Oolong Dragon — the boba shop next door — within a week. Zuko had assumed that serving teenagers on dates would be the absolute worst job in the world, but the gossipy old ladies who tut about his face in stage whispers are worse. Zuko is surprised to find the clientele at the Oolong Dragon is much nicer than he expects. The teenagers are mostly bored rich kids who tip well — a rich parent’s money is easy to spend, as Zuko knows — and they seem slightly cowed by Zuko’s gruff demeanor. If they are being too loud in the shop, he shoots them a glare that sends them skittering out the door.

Zuko goes through the motions: working in the tea shop by day, cooking for Iroh and himself at night. There is a terrible emptiness inside him that aches, and nothing Zuko does can fill it. He gets back into kung fu to try to battle some of the anger he feels, but if anything it fuels it more. Iroh seems happy that Zuko has at least one hobby, however, and if Zuko is exhausted enough, he doesn’t have as many nightmares. But most days, he feels like he can barely keep himself from shattering into a thousand pieces.

The only decent day Zuko has in the first six months of living in Ba Sing Se is the anniversary of his cousin’s death. Zuko expects it to be awful; Iroh rarely speaks of his beloved son, although there are several framed pictures of him around the apartment they share. Iroh closes both tea shops for the day, and they go together across town to the cemetery.

Lu Ten had been a senior in college when he had died in a mountaineering accident. Zuko was just a child then, still reeling from the news of his mother’s recent cancer diagnosis. The Sozin family had crumbled. Iroh had stepped down as head of the company and Ozai had taken over. Iroh’s wife had left — too grief-stricken without her son to stay — and soon afterwards Zuko’s mother had died. In Zuko’s mind, Lu Ten was still the paragon of all that was good in the world. He had been smart, kind, handsome, and he gave the best piggy-back rides. Once he was gone, everything had fallen into darkness.

Zuko has never been to his cousin’s grave before. His father had prevented him and Azula from attending the funeral so they would not miss school. Zuko takes one look at the gravestone and starts weeping uncontrollably.

He has not cried in months. He did not cry when he was in pain from his injuries, nor when they pulled off the bandages. He did not cry when he purposefully drove Katara away, nor when he realized months had passed without his sister checking on him. He had not cried because he had not felt he deserved to cry. All of his pain and suffering — it was supposed to teach him, like his father had said. Zuko would learn what it meant to be a man by carrying his pain.

And yet now, at the site where his wonderful cousin lies in permanent sleep, Zuko knows pain has nothing left to teach him. He has learned to hate himself. He has learned to hate everyone else. He has learned to be like his father, and hurt the people who cared about him most.

He cries and cries, his tears choking him as he weeps. Iroh lets him be, carefully arranging flowers and incense around the tombstone. When he steps back to join Zuko, he places a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“You have suffered, nephew, in ways that most people never do,” Iroh says softly. “You have let yourself be punished for too long.”

“I’m sorry,” Zuko sobs. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry, nephew?”

“Lu Ten should be here,” he says, hot tears dripping from his chin. “Not me. He’s your son. He shouldn’t be dead.”

“No,” Iroh says sadly. “His life was far too short. I feel the pain of his absence every day.”

“How can you stand it?” Zuko whispers. He wants to crawl out of his own skin, to escape this unbearable agony.

“Grief is a funny thing,” Iroh says softly. “It never disappears entirely. I always carry it with me. But it is not as sharp as it once was. It is like a shard of glass, smoothed from years in a turbulent ocean. At first, I guarded it and kept it sharp. I used it against others like a weapon. I used it against myself — I am sure you know the feeling. But I found that allowing the pain to dull did not dull the memories of my son. He is always with me, always in my heart. I do not want him to be a painful memory when he brought me such joy. So I pounded away at the grief until I could hold it without pricking myself. It weighs on me, but it does not harm me like it once did.”

“But how?” Zuko asks desperately. “How did you do it?”

“It was difficult,” Iroh admits. “I needed someone to show me the way. There are many such people — friends, loved ones, therapists — who have seen grief and know how to face it. They are the ones who can help carry the burden for a while, until you are strong enough to fight it yourself.”

Iroh sighs and gives Zuko a sad smile.

“In the end, you must find your own path forward. But it is my greatest hope — and my truest belief — that you will prevail, Zuko. There are many people who might help you, and you should know that I will always be one of them. Ever since I lost my son…”

“You don’t have to say it, uncle.”

“I have thought you as my own,” Iroh finishes, his voice thick with emotion. “And if Lu Ten were with us today, he would be here to help you as well. Please, nephew. Let me help.”

Zuko does not respond, but instead goes to light the incense. Iroh and Zuko linger for a long time, quietly sharing memories together before they head back home. Although the day had been crushingly sad, for the first time in ages, Zuko does not feel the throb of anger and loneliness inside him. For once, the weight has been lifted.

Zuko knows he has done a thorough job of pushing Katara away — she has not contacted him once since he insulted her on the phone — but he had not realized he had been pushing his uncle away, too. He tries to make a better effort, but he has had years of experience proving that sharing his true feelings is dangerous. Even with his uncle’s blessing, opening up emotionally is beyond his capabilities.

About a week later, Zuko is crossing the street after kung fu when a car rolls through the stop sign to make a turn. Zuko reacts by kicking the rear of the car hard as it passes inches from him. The driver slams on brakes.

“What’s your fucking problem, man?” the driver yells.

“Me? I’m in the fucking crosswalk! You almost hit me, asshole!”

“It’s dark, man. Why are you out wearing all black?”

“It doesn’t matter what I’m wearing, dickweed. You have a fucking stop sign!”

“Don’t touch my fucking car, man!”

A man on the sidewalk jogs over. Zuko expects the man to try to diffuse the situation, but he is mistaken.

“You should be happy we’re not fucking breaking your windows!” the man shouts. “Tinted windows are illegal.”

“Aw, gimme a break,” the driver whines.

“You could’ve killed him,” the man continues, practically shaking with rage.

“Whatever,” the driver says, putting his car back in gear.

Before the car pulls away, the man mirrors Zuko’s earlier actions, kicking the rear door. The driver shouts in anger, but the man doesn’t stop. By the time the driver peels off, screaming obscenities, there is a mid-sized dent in the car’s exterior.

Zuko turns to face the man. He is about Zuko’s height, with hair that looks perfectly tousled. He would be quite handsome if it weren’t for the ugly expression of fury on his face.

“Fucking assholes,” the man seethes.

“Thanks,” Zuko says. “You didn’t have to do that.”

The man looks annoyed, but his anger deflates.

“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have… trying to work on that shit.”

“It’s cool,” Zuko shrugs. “I would’ve kicked his taillights out if you hadn’t shown up.”

Something sparks in the man’s expression. He gives Zuko a sly grin.

“I’m Jet,” he says with an air of cool confidence. “I’ve got some friends you might want to meet. Tomorrow night, 8PM. We meet in the basement of the public library.”

“…Are you asking me to join a fight club?”

Jet lets out a bark of laughter.

“Kind of the opposite, actually. Don’t worry — even if you’re not into it, the people there are cool. You should come by.”

Jet scribbles down the information on the back of a receipt and hands it to Zuko. Surprised, Zuko accepts it and they part ways.

Iroh spots the note the next morning.

“Nephew, are you going to the library tonight? I could use your help carrying supplies back from Ming’s Bakery next door.”

“I can just come help you carry stuff, uncle. I’m not going to that meeting.”

“Well, you can come with me if you prefer. But I am afraid my meetings with Ming are usually quite long. She is quite fond of my tea and, well… company.”

“I’ll go to the library,” Zuko says quickly. “I’ll meet up with you when you’re done.”

-

Zuko enters the room cautiously, casting a look around at the people gathered. Most of them look around his age, but they don’t seem to be especially close or friendly. Some people are chatting with one another, but the majority are staring down at their phones or staring off into space. Jet enters with a box of doughnuts from Ming’s Bakery, and a small swarm forms around him. Once everyone has grabbed a treat, they settle back into their chairs and Jet claps his hands.

“Alright, welcome back everybody. Anyone want to start us off tonight? I’ve got something if no one else wants to dive in.”

Most people nod and Jet takes this as his cue to continue.

“Hi everyone. My name is Jet.”

“Hi, Jet,” the room responds as one.

“Last night, I kicked a dent in some guy’s car. He almost hit someone,” Jet says, casting a look over to Zuko in the corner. “I just flipped out. I’ve been doing better lately, but…”

Jet sighs. Zuko glances around the room at the attentive faces. What was this place?

“Next month, it will be seven years since my parents died. A drunk driver pulled a hit and run,” he adds quickly. “And last night… it just took me right back to that feeling. Only this time I wasn’t helpless — I could actually fight this guy. It wasn’t my fight, though. He was a dick, but he wasn’t the guy who killed my parents. It’s hard to tell the difference sometimes. I just want to hurt everybody when I think about it.”

“So,” Jet finishes with a deep breath. “It felt like a step backwards. But I hope it can lead to more steps forward. I see some new faces tonight,” he says, shooting a look at Zuko and a few others. “I hope that our community can get us through the rough patches together.”

There is a smattering of applause and Jet sits. A young woman stands up from her seat.

“My turn? Cool. What’s up, everyone? I’m Toph."

“Hi, Toph.”

“I had a huge fight with my parents over the weekend. Same old story, I know,” she says with a grimace. “So I wanted to talk today about control.”

Toph continues her story and it takes Zuko far too long to realize two things: first, that Toph is blind, which seems to be a major factor in her issues with her parents, and second, that this is some sort of anger-management club.

Zuko wants to leave once he realizes the second point, but it seems rude to interrupt Toph. Once she sits back down, another young man stands to share his story, and then another one after that. Zuko listens, slightly mortified to hear such personal information, but it’s also comforting to hear about young people like himself letting their anger get the better of them. It’s nice to know he’s not the only one screwing up his life.

The meeting ends an hour later, and Jet swaggers over to Zuko.

“Thanks for coming, man. You gonna join us next time?”

Zuko mulls it over.

“Sure,” he says finally. “My uncle needs me to help him carry stuff from Ming’s after.”

“Awesome,” Jet says, clapping Zuko on the shoulder. “Feel free to share if you want.”

Zuko certainly does not want to share, but he supposes coming to listen for just one more session won’t hurt.

One meeting turns into two, and two turns into three. Eventually, Zuko goes even though Iroh has no need to go to the bakery, and he keeps going after that. Zuko tells himself it’s just to get a free doughnut. He doesn’t even really like doughnuts very much, but it gives him something to do with his hands when he’s feeling awkward.

It takes a long time for Zuko to share anything, but he does notice several trends in the group. Most people talk about issues with their parents — sometimes about their absence or their overbearing presence — but the theme of abuse bears a heavy hand. Zuko is far from the only one in the room angry at his father for hurting him. His scar may be the most noticeable, but there is more than one story that makes him realize that he could carry much worse than this.

The first time he speaks is on his mother’s birthday.

“Uh, hi,” he says, his tongue feeling thick and clumsy in his mouth. “Zuko here.”

He spots Toph frowning at him. He feels a bit guilty; everyone has been able to see him hiding in the back for weeks, but to her he is a new and sudden presence.

“It’s my mom’s birthday,” he explains. “She would have been fifty-three today. I miss her a lot.”

Zuko takes a deep breath and takes the plunge.

“I used to think I was just angry at my dad,” he says slowly. “I am mad at him. He… he hurt me. He made me feel like I was nothing. I still feel that way most of the time. But what really makes me mad today is that he’s still alive. He’s in prison now, waiting for his trial to start, which is good, but he shouldn’t be here at all. My mom should be here. She didn’t deserve to die so young. She was a good person. And we — my sister and I — we didn’t deserve to be stuck with my dad once she was gone. It’s not fair. She’s been gone for twelve years and I still can’t get over how unfair it is. And that’s why I’m angry today. Thanks.”

He sits back down, his legs trembling with adrenaline. It’s not the best or most complete story shared that day, but it feels like a huge step. People in the crowd give him polite smiles and wave to him at the end of the meeting. He told them about his feelings and they don’t think he’s a total freak for it.

Zuko makes towards the exit to leave, but Toph blocks his path.

“How come you always smell like sugar?”

Zuko blinks at her in surprise.

“What?”

“I noticed you the past two weeks. You were sitting behind me, weren’t you?”

“Er…” Zuko thinks back. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Well, you smell like sugar now and you did the last two weeks. It’s making me hungry.”

“I work in a boba shop,” he explains. “I didn’t realize I smelled. I can shower next time before I come if it bothers you.”

Toph gives a wide smile.

“Nah,” she says. “But you can make it up to me by bringing me boba!”

“Okay. What kind do you want?”

“Seriously?”

“What? You said you wanted some.”

“I was just messing with you.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Zuko says with a shrug. “I can get some right now if you want.”

“Really? That would be awesome. I’ve got to study tonight. Where do you work?”

“The Oolong Dragon. It’s my uncle’s place.”

Toph beams up at him.

“That place is the best! Let’s go!”

Zuko lets Toph lead him across town, amazed at how quickly she speeds down the sidewalk. Within a few minutes, they reach the shop and Zuko unlocks the door. He makes Toph a drink and settles down across from her.

“So, Zuko, what’s your deal?”

“You just heard what my deal is earlier,” he points out.

“Nah, that’s feelings junk. Don’t get me wrong,” she adds quickly. “The group therapy is actually pretty nice — gets me out of the house from my parents at least — but it’s so heavy in there, you know? No one ever talks about what they’re like at their best self.”

“Maybe I don’t have a best self,” he says with a shrug.

“Bullshit.”

“You don’t know me,” Zuko says irritably.

“You just gave a giant boba, free of charge, to a helpless blind girl you barely know. That’s not exactly worst-self material.”

“You’re not helpless,” Zuko says, indignant. “You told a story last week about breaking out of your house to go to a frat party.”

“Yeah, that was awesome,” Toph says with a wide grin. “And you passed the test, by the way. I don’t hang out with people who see my blindness as a problem.”

“You’re just hanging out with me to get a free drink.”

“Correct! And you seem cool. Call it a hunch. So, best self stuff? I’ll start. I do kung fu for fun.”

For the first time all night, Zuko smiles.

“Really? Me too!”

“No way! I go on Tuesdays and Fridays.”

“Ah, Wednesdays and Thursdays.”

“Well, we gotta change it up. I wanna spar with you, man.”

Zuko has a sneaking suspicion that Toph could kick his ass. He kind of wants to see her do it.

It is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Chapter Text

It is just shy of one year since the attack that Ozai’s trial begins. There had been delays and postponements for weeks, not to mention the time it took to pick a jury for such a high-profile and scandalous affair. The shame of Sozin Industries engaging in illegal practices was bad enough, but the CEO attacking one of his own employees — his own son — makes it front-page news.

Zuko avoids the papers as much as he can. Fortunately, while the start of the trial made waves in Ba Sing Se, people soon forget about the scandal in Caldera City. For once, Zuko is happy to live here. He ignores the details on the proceedings and has no idea how things are progressing. He does not want to be involved in any way. It’s too painful to think about.

Zuko is checking his email one morning when he spots a message from Azula. His heart skips a beat. He has not heard from his sister since the attack. He had assumed, of course, that she sided with his father, and her silence had all but confirmed it in his mind. He opens the message with shaking fingers.

The body of the email is a plane ticket: a roundtrip, business-class seat to Caldera City.

Zuko dials Azula’s number without thinking twice. She answers on the first ring.

“What the fuck, Azula?”

He can practically hear her rolling her eyes.

“So dramatic, Zuzu. All you have to do is get on a plane. I’ve arranged everything. A driver will pick you up and take you straight to the courthouse.”

“No,” he says, livid. “I’m not going, Azula. I’m not testifying.”

“Of course you’re not,” she scoffs. “But I still need you there, dummy, so just do it.”

This gives him pause. Azula has not admitted to needing Zuko’s help since she was four years old and too short to reach the countertops in the kitchen to steal cookies.

“Why?” he asks.

“Just be there,” Azula says sternly. “Don’t be late.”

She hangs up, and Zuko stares blankly at his phone. His stomach churns in anger and fear. He can’t fathom seeing his father again, even if he is wearing a prison jumpsuit. The only satisfaction Zuko could achieve would be if he got to shout at his father one last time, if his father finally realized the error of his ways and begged for Zuko’s forgiveness. This is so improbable that Zuko cannot even imagine it.

He finds himself packing a bag anyway. Even as he boards the plane, there’s a niggling feeling that he’s walking into a trap, that somehow Azula will have managed to place the blame for Sozin Industries’ misdeeds on Zuko. Yet he meekly follows Azula’s driver into the car and walks up the courthouse steps. The whole thing feels like a bizarre dream, like it’s happening to someone else.

The courtroom is packed with a cadre of legal aides and students. Fortunately, there’s a seat in the back corner, and he slips in so the burn on his face is hidden. Still, there are a few members of the jury who spot him and their faces light up in recognition. Zuko slides down into his seat; clearly, his father’s role in attacking his own son has already been discussed.

The judge enters and the court rises to meet her.

“Please be seated,” she says in a clipped tone. She nods to the prosecution’s bench, indicating that the lawyer proceed.

“The prosecution calls Azula Sozin to the stand.”

Zuko’s heart stops. Azula was testifying? This was why she wanted him here?

Azula springs up from the front row and struts to the front, lifting a perfectly manicured hand to swear to tell the truth. Zuko has an insane urge to grin — Azula is the best liar he knows, and even though her vow of honesty rings true, Zuko can’t help his amusement. It dies away as Azula is seated again, her honeyed eyes fixed on her father with pure loathing.

Well, Zuko thinks with surprise. That’s new.

“Miss Sozin,” the prosecutor begins. “Could you please tell us about the events of Thursday, May 10th of last year?”

Zuko’s hands and feet lose feeling. He realizes too late what he is about the hear: not Azula’s testimony about illegal workplace practices, but about the day his face was burned off. He wants to flee, but he knows it would only draw attention to him, and he could not bear his father turning to see him running away like a coward. Zuko focuses on his breathing, eyes shut as Azula begins.

“Certainly,” Azula says primly. “A board meeting was called in the morning to discuss the alleged illegal dumping by Sozin Industries. I was present, as well as the members of the board, my father’s entire legal counsel, and my brother.”

Keep breathing, Zuko thinks desperately. Don’t pass out.

“And was that unusual?”

“Yes. My father usually excluded my brother from such meetings.”

“And why is that?”

“My father claimed that Zuko’s presence was not necessary for such important matters.”

“But it was necessary for this meeting?”

“Yes. It made me suspicious.”

“And why was that?”

“Because my father liked to use Zuko as a scapegoat. I assumed his presence at the meeting meant that my father would publicly blame Zuko for blowing the whistle, but he didn’t. The information presented made it clear that the whistleblower was anonymous.”

The prosecutor nods thoughtfully. Zuko stares at his sister, some of the feeling returning to his fingers. He wasn’t sure where this was going, but his curiosity was winning out over his fear.

“Tell us what happened after the meeting,” the lawyer prompts.

“I went back to my desk to look through my work, but I was distracted. I wanted to talk to my father.”

“About the illegal disposal?”

“Objection!”

“Excuse me, about the alleged illegal disposal?”

The judge nods. Ozai’s lawyer still looks grim, but Azula proceeds.

“Yes, but I really wanted to talk to him about Zuko.”

“Why did you want to discuss your brother?”

“I knew that if anyone were to blow the whistle on the company, it was likely to have been him. He would have had access to such records.”

“Surely many people have access to those same files at Sozin Industries?”

“Yes, but most people would either not understand what they were looking at, or not care. My brother is a chemical engineer. He would be familiar with the compounds we needed to safely dispose of, and he has always been the do-gooder in the family. I suspected he was the one to report Sozin Industries for misconduct, and I assumed my father would think the same.”

“Is that what you wanted to discuss with your father that day?"

“Yes,” Azula says, her expression hardening.

“Were you able to talk to your father that morning?”

“No. I went to his office at noon, but I was told by his secretary that my father had just left for a business lunch, but I could see his car still in the parking lot. I knew that my father would not have his driver use any car other than his own, so I figured my father was still in the building.”

“Then what happened?”

“I assumed my father had gone to yell at Zuko. He had a habit of doing so after difficult meetings. You can ask any of the engineers who worked with Zuko — my father wasn’t very discreet about it. I thought I might find him there.”

“And did you?”

Zuko’s eyes are wide with horror. He remembers the sound of stilettos in the dark before he found his father, how he had thought it was just his father tapping on the glass…

“I arrived just as the power went out. I didn’t know the layout of Zuko’s lab well, so I tried going to his desk first. No one was there. I heard voices, but the acoustics in the lab are bad — I couldn’t tell where the sound was coming from. And then…”

Azula swallows heavily, looking shaken.

“Neither of them could see me,” Azula says quietly, her voice strong despite the pinched look on her face. “They were under one of the emergency lights. My father had a bottle in his hands — that bottle,” she adds, pointing to a large evidence board that had been brought out. Zuko had scarcely noticed it in his earlier panic, but in the bottom corner, there is a picture of the lab, the opened jug of acid spilled out onto the floor.

“I couldn’t hear what my father said — he was speaking too quietly — but I saw him move. He threw the liquid at Zuko. Zuko ducked, but some of it hit him in the face. He started screaming and…”

Azula shudders slightly in her seat. Zuko bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, the copper taste filling his mouth.

“My father ran. There was no one else around — the rest of the team always took a lunch break at that time — so no one else saw him leave.”

“And what did you do?”

Something clicks in Zuko’s memory. He stares at Azula’s hands. He remembers now.

“I’m not a chemist,” Azula says begrudgingly. “But I knew that an acid spill needs to be treated with water. I tried to gab my brother, but I was scared — I couldn’t see the acid, and I didn’t want to get on me and have us both in too much pain to move. It took me a minute to find the emergency shower and I did my best to drag him under it.”

Zuko remembers the water pounding his face, blurring his vision. The pain had been blinding, the noise of the shower drowning out the sound of Azula’s stilettos as she ran away.

“I went to call for help, but the power outage followed by the activation of the emergency showered sent an alert to the building’s security controls. An emergency call was automatically made, so the paramedics were on their way. That’s why there’s no record of me making a call — I didn’t need to.”

“But you didn’t stay with your brother?”

“I panicked about the phone call,” Azula says, looking annoyed. “I should have realized… Anyway, once I was out of the lab, there were people running around everywhere. I wanted to go back inside, but I saw my father coming towards me.”

“Coming towards you?”

“Yes. The way he had run out of the lab leads to the stairwell, and most people don’t take the stairs to the basement. He was coming back down from the elevators, as if he had just come down from the first floor.”

“Your honor,” the prosecutor says. “I would like to submit into evidence the security footage video of the elevator bank from Sozin Industries from May 10th.”

There is a brief discussion before and after the court watches the video showing Ozai entering the elevator banks on the first floor and descending into the basement just minutes after the emergency call. The jury nods as the prosecutor walks them through the timeline.

“Miss Sozin,” the prosecutor resumes, turning back to Azula. “What did you do when you saw your father walking towards you?”

“I turned and I left the building.”

“Why?”

“I saw him looking at my shoes.”

“Your shoes?”

“Yes. They were wet from the emergency shower. I knew he would realize that I had been the one to drag Zuko under it, and he would know that I had witnessed the incident. So I left, and when I got home, I called the police to report it. They arrested him that afternoon.”

Zuko sits back, stunned, as the prosecutor continues to establish the timeline of events. He remembers hazy days in the hospital, the police asking him to testify against his father. He had never stopped to ask how they had known it had been his father who had burned him. Zuko had told no one; he had just assumed that Iroh had guessed and Zuko never tried to dispute it.

But it had been Azula all along. She had been the one to turn Ozai in. She had been the one to help bring charges of attempted murder against him. Zuko listens half-heartedly as the lawyer continues to establish the details of the event: the amount of acid in the jug, what would have happened had Zuko not ducked or if Azula had not pulled him under the emergency shower. Zuko feels like he has been punched in the gut. He had no idea what Azula had been through, what she had done for him.

After another hour of questioning, the prosecution rests and the court adjourns for lunch. Zuko steps out in the hall, pointedly ignoring the stares of people who now realize who he is. Although he normally does his best to angle his face from strangers, he does make a point of facing the jury members head-on. They look at his scar in fascination and horror. If any good comes of this, it will help them realize what a monster Ozai is, and they will declare him guilty.

The click of stilettos captures Zuko’s attention. He turns to see Azula staring up at him.

“Glad you could make it, big brother.”

“Azula,” he breathes. “I didn’t know. You… you saved my life.”

“Hardly,” she says dismissively. “You saved yourself by ducking. I just helped save your eye. I’m told your safety glasses might have melted if not for the water.”

“Yeah, that’s what the doctors said,” he confirms. “But still. I didn’t remember you being there. It just hurt so much, I —“

“It’s fine,” Azula says, clearly looking uncomfortable at Zuko’s earnestness. “What’s important now is that Dad pays for what he’s done.”

“I think you’ve seen to that,” Zuko says, shooting a look over at some of the jury members. “You were really brave to testify.”

Azula frowns.

“That wasn’t the hard part, Zuko. The hard part is next.”

Zuko catches sight of the legion of his father’s lawyers, staring daggers at Azula as they leave for their lunch break. Zuko’s insides squirm.

“They’re going to try to rip me apart,” Azula says darkly.

“You won’t let them,” Zuko says savagely. “You’re better than them, Azula. You can do this.”

Azula grimaces but says nothing.

“We should get you something to eat,” Zuko continues. “Make sure you’ve got fuel.”

Azula gives a light laugh.

“You sound like uncle Iroh,” she says.

She turns on her heel to lead him outside, where they walk to a cheap banh mi place across the street. Azula only eats half of her sandwich, but Zuko gets her to drink several cups of tea before they go back.

The afternoon session is even more painful than Zuko had expected, mostly because it reveals dark parts of Azula’s nature that even he had not been aware of. Ozai’s defense lawyer sinks his teeth into Azula immediately.

“Miss Sozin,” he begins with obvious disdain. “Is it true that you attended an in-patient rehabilitation program on Ember Island last December?”

Zuko’s eyes go wide.

“Yes.”

“And why were you being treated at this facility?”

“Objection!”

“Establishing character, your honor.”

“I’ll allow it.”

Zuko can feel his blood boiling. He clenches his fist in his pocket, a murderous expression on his face.

“I’m an alcoholic,” Azula says in an almost bored voice. “I’ve been sober for six months now.”

Zuko’s anger is tempered by a tidal wave of guilt. He remembers the night before the attack, seeing Azula drinking like a fish at the bar. He should’ve known, he should’ve tried harder…

But Azula looks entirely unbothered as the defense lawyer peppers her with questions, trying to find faults in her armor. He does not succeed; Azula’s defenses are impenetrable. Every time the lawyer tries a new tactic, Azula casts a glance at Zuko before answering. Rage surges through him, but Azula looks calm and collected throughout the painfully long ordeal.

“No further questions, your honor,” the defense lawyer says finally, a hint of bitterness in his voice. Zuko catches the small, smug smirk on Azula’s face. She has beaten him soundly at his own game.

Court is adjourned for the day, and Zuko meets Azula on the courthouse steps.

“Fancy a drink?” she asks.

Zuko blanches.

“You said you’ve been sober for six months.”

Azula rolls her eyes.

“It’s an expression, dumb-dumb. Come on.”

Azula leads him to a coffee shop and orders them two piping hot lattes. Zuko knows he’ll be up all night, but he doesn’t care. His flight leaves in four hours — what does it matter if he’s awake and jittery all night?

“Azula, I’m so sorry you had to go through all that,” Zuko blurts. “You didn’t have to —“

“Dad had to pay,” Azula says with an ugly expression on her face. “He ruined both of us, Zuko.”

Zuko blinks at her, surprised. Azula smirks.

“I know I’m supposed to take responsibility for my own actions,” Azula says with distaste. “And it’s not like Dad forced me to drink —“

“I get it,” Zuko says quickly.

Azula gives a tight smile.

“I know you do,” she agrees. “For a long time, I thought I was better than you. I could handle it when Dad was mad. I knew how to placate him. I knew how to sidestep all his moods. He would scream at you and I would just sit there and think, well at least it’s not me. Zuko deserves it — he should know better than to contradict Dad. But I wasn’t better than you. I let Dad control me. The worst part is I didn’t even realize I was doing it. I bent over backwards to do whatever he wanted me to do, and I thought it was all my idea. That’s why I picked my majors. That’s why I went to Caldera University. That’s why I worked at Sozin Industries.”

“You didn’t want to?” Zuko asks, confused. Azula had gloated so much about all three things. It was hard to imagine she hadn’t been happy to do them.

“I did but…” Azula shrugs. “It was only because I didn’t even let myself think of an alternative route. I was going to do what made Dad happy no matter what.”

Zuko stares down at his coffee and sighs.

“Maybe you were smarter,” he concedes. “You’re not the one whose face makes kids cry.”

Azula glares at Zuko.

“Don’t you get it? Dad fucked us both over, Zuko. I’m sorry you were scarred — I really am — but you escaped, Zuko. I didn’t.”

“You could have come with me!” Zuko protests, indignant. “You didn’t have to stay.”

“I did,” Azula retorts. “I’m still in school, aren’t I? And with Dad arrested, I was named his successor at Sozin Industries. I’ve been fighting with board members, trying to finished my degree, and cleaning up Dad’s mess all year. Or I was, until I had a total breakdown in December.”

“That’s when you went to rehab?”

Azula nods, sipping her latte.

“I passed out at work. I tried to play it off like I was just sick, but I was completely shit-faced. You see the shoes I walk in — it’s a miracle I didn’t break my neck falling down the stairs.”

Zuko winces.

“Anyway,” Azula continues. “I was failing all my classes, and our company was in shambles. I should’ve walked away, tried to get myself some help, but I was still stuck trying to please Dad. He’s in fucking prison and I just kept thinking about how mad he would be that I failed quantum mechanics. And all the time I was so jealous of you, Zuko. You were free. Sure, you paid for it,” she concedes with a nod to his face, “but you were out. And I thought I never would be.”

“But you were testifying against him, weren’t you?”

“Not for a while. I turned him into the police to save myself, but then I wouldn’t cooperate. I didn’t change my mind until after rehab. This is sort of my attempt to make amends to you,” she says with a shrug.

“You don’t need to apologize, Azula. Not to me. I get it.”

“Still,” she insists. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.”

Zuko can’t decide what’s stranger: that Azula is apologizing to him, or that he actually accepts it. He heaves another sigh.

“You’re wrong though,” he says heavily. “I wasn’t free. Dad fucked everything up first, but then I blew it up myself.”

Azula purses her lips.

“Do you have a job?”

“Yes.”

“Actually related to your degree?”

“…No.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Fuck, no.”

“What about that girl I saw you with last year? Kara? Kayla?”

“Katara,” he grits out. “And I burned that bridge a long time ago.”

“Have you tried apologizing?” Azula suggests over another sip of her latte. “I used to think apologies were a sign of weakness, but they are quiteeffective in bringing people around.”

Zuko has to smile. It’s good to know that even this new version of Azula hasn’t lost her black heart entirely.

“Is it now?” he smirks.

“It’s how Ty Lee forgave me,” Azula says. “Speaking of which, she should be here by now.”

“Ty Lee has never been on time in her life,” Zuko says with an eye roll. Azula glares at him with more venom than he expects, but before she can say anything, a blur of pink rushes in.

“Hi!” Ty Lee chirps. “How did it go today?”

Zuko stares in astonishment as Ty Lee plants a kiss on Azula’s lips. Azula ignores him and gives Ty Lee a fond look.

“About what I expected.”

“Oh, Zuko!” Ty Lee cries, turning to face him. “It was so good of you to come. Azula really needed you there.”

She throws her arms around Zuko and squeezes. Zuko barely has time to react before Ty Lee has pulled away and is scrutinizing his face.

“It’s such a shame, what your father did to you. You always had such nice skin, even when you were a teenager. But it’s okay. You still have perfect cheekbones, and you’ve got those same gorgeous eyes Azula has. Your aura seems a bit grey though. Have you been exercising enough?”

Zuko opens his mouth to answer, but Ty Lee barrels on.

“Azula said she was sending you a ticket, but we weren’t sure if you were going to come. I mean, it must be so hard to be back here, especially seeing your dad in court. I suppose it’s some comfort that he looks terrible in orange, and his his aura was just so dark. But that’s not unusual for him, I suppose. Anyway, it was really nice of you to be here, Zuko. You know, for Azula.”

Zuko gives Azula an evaluating look.

“Why did you need me here?” he asks her. “It’s not like I did anything except sit there the whole time.”

Azula smirks.

“I knew Dad’s lawyers were going to go after me hard,” she explains. “They were trying to ruin my credibility. I can handle it to some extent, of course, but even I’m not perfect. I don’t like having my mistakes flung back in my face.”

“Okay…” Zuko says slowly. “But that doesn’t explain why —“

“I needed you there to get mad for me,” Azula says, shifting in her seat. “I had to put on a calm face, but I was so angry. But when I looked over and saw you scowling… it was like we were kids again. I felt that same superiority that I could control myself while you clearly couldn’t. It kept me calm.”

Zuko frowns. He wants to argue that this is a pretty messed-up line of thinking, but he can’t argue with the results.

“If it makes you feel better,” Azula says offhand. “I banned Ty Lee because I knew she’d have the opposite effect.”

“Oh, I would have started crying in about two seconds,” Ty Lee says with wide eyes. “I couldn’t stand to see that lawyer going after you, Azula.”

Even now, the mere thought of it causes Ty Lee’s eyes to fill with tears. Azula presses a reassuring kiss to Ty Lee’s cheek. Zuko is still too stunned to speak, so he drains the rest of his latte instead.

Azula looks at him sternly over their empty cups.

“You helped me out today, so now I’m going to help you,” Azula says loftily. “Get yourself a real job, one that can actually use your brains.”

“Azula…”

“And get that girl back,” Azula continues. Zuko lets out a squawk of angry protest and Azula holds up a hand to silence him. “I remember your face when you were with her. You were actually happy. You’re never happy, Zuko. So fix it.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says darkly. “And I don’t need your advice, Azula.”

“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?” Ty Lee interjects. “I mean, I thought I would never forgive Azula, but I did.”

Curiosity gets the better of Zuko.

“What happened?” he asks.

“Oh, it was awful,” Ty Lee says conversationally. “I came out to Azula last summer, a few weeks after Ozai was arrested. She was really unsupportive. She started screaming at me and saying lots of homophobic things. It was really shocking — I hadn’t expected her to be so upset — and it basically ended our friendship.”

Zuko steals a look at Azula, who looks uncharacteristically shame-faced.

“I made a bunch of new friends when school started in the fall,” Ty Lee continues, still in a cheery tone, as if she were recounting a much more pleasant story. “I was really angry with Azula, but I was still worried about her. I got a letter from her after finals were over. She was in rehab, and she wanted to make amends. It was such a beautiful letter,” Ty Lee says, giving Azula an adoring look. “She apologized for saying all that stuff and pushing me away. I didn’t forgive her right away, but it meant a lot that she apologized. We both know how bad she is at it,” Ty Lee adds with a wink to Zuko.

Azula scowls at Ty Lee, but Ty Lee just gives her another kiss. Azula’s face pinks.

“Anyway!” Ty Lee continues. “Once she was back from rehab, we started meeting once a week to get coffee. I was really wary at first — I didn’t want Azula to say all that mean stuff to me again — but she surprised me. She told me part of the reason she pushed me away was that she liked me, too.”

Zuko turns to looks at Azula, who, for once, looks slightly uncomfortable to be the center of attention.

“I didn’t think being a lesbian would fit in with our perfect Sozin family image,” Azula admits darkly.

“But we’re together now!” Ty Lee adds happily. “It’s been so nice! Azula’s aura is way more red than it used to be.”

“And that’s a good thing?” Zuko asks for clarification.

“Oh, yes! Some people might think red means anger, and it definitely can, but it can be passion, too. Now that Azula is following her own path, she can follow her own passions, and that’s why her aura is so clear and bright.”

Azula crosses her arms, smirking at Zuko.

“So, big brother? Are you up to the challenge of fixing your life?”

Zuko scowls, but it’s hard to maintain with Ty Lee looking at him so hopefully.

“I can get a job,” he says finally. “But I can’t get Katara back. Not after what I did.”

“You were never a quitter, Zuko. Don’t start now.”

Zuko doesn’t argue back. In truth, he does want to fix things with Katara. He’s just not optimistic enough to think she would ever forgive him.

They spend another hour at the coffee shop catching up, which is more time than Zuko has willingly spent with his sister in years. There is caution in their exchange. They know that this is a fragile moment for them, and Zuko is grateful to have Ty Lee around to smooth out Azula’s edges. It is strange to see his sister happy. He had thought she was before — she had certainly been very smug about her successes in life — but he had not realized it was a mask. Azula had achieved great things, but they had not brought her peace.

A car arrives to take Zuko to the airport. He swings his backpack over his shoulders and exchanges an awkward hug with Azula. Ty Lee swoops in and squeezes Zuko.

“A letter,” she whispers. “That’s the best way to get a girl back. Trust me. Send her a letter.”

As he predicted, Zuko is unable to sleep on the flight home. His brain replays the day over and over again. Each revisited memory causes him to dive deep into his past, to re-evaluate what he thought was true. There were patterns he had not observed, friction between Azula and his father he had never seen before but was glaringly obvious now. It’s strange to see it all in a new light, and stranger still to realize just how much he had in common with Azula.

Iroh gives Zuko the day off from the tea shop, and he spends the entire morning sleeping. Iroh himself takes a long lunch break, and Zuko debriefs him on the whole trip. It takes a long time, but it feels good to get it off his chest.

“Thank you for telling me all this, nephew,” Iroh says before he goes back to work. “I know it is not easy for you to discuss your feelings.”

Zuko sits with this idea for the rest of the afternoon. It was true, he had always struggled to talk about his emotions. His father had made sure of that. But there were a few people he could confide in: Iroh, Toph, and Katara.

Zuko opens his computer and starts to write.

Chapter Text

Zuko Sozin
to Katara ⬇️
Subject: I’m sorry

Dear Katara,

I hope you’re doing well. I understand if you never want to hear from me again, and I promise I won’t contact you if you don’t respond to this email. You’re probably already in med school by now, kicking ass. Wherever you are, they’re lucky to have you.

I wanted to apologize for how I treated you. There’s no excuse, but I want to explain what happened. The most important thing is that I’m really, really sorry. You were always kind to me and what I did was wrong. I never should have hurt you.

I filed a report against Sozin Industries for the illegal dumping. I did it anonymously, but my dad knew it was me anyway. Or maybe he didn’t, and he had just had enough of me — either way, he attacked me. I was hospitalized for a few days, and then I left Caldera City to come live with my uncle in Ba Sing Se. He’s the one you spoke to on the phone — I’m sorry I made him hang up on you.

I pushed you away because I knew you would try to help me, and I didn’t feel worthy of your help. The truth is, I never really felt worthy of any attention you gave me. I still don’t, really, but I’m trying to work on it. The point is, I didn’t want you to feel obliged to take care of me, or to stick by me while I recovered. I know how it ended for you and Aang, and I didn’t want to put you through that again.

I realize now that I was not only wrong to push you away, but I was wrong to try to make a choice on your behalf. I assumed you would fall into the same pattern you did with Aang. I never considered that you would make a different choice, or that things might be different. I’m sorry, Katara. I know you’ve changed a lot since things ended with Aang, and I didn’t give you the credit you deserved.

I don’t expect you to forgive me. I’m not asking you to — what I did was cruel and wrong. But you deserve an apology. If you want to yell at me, or if you never want to speak to me again, like I said, I understand.

I wish I had made a different choice. I didn’t trust myself, but I should have trusted you. I should have been honest instead of afraid. I should have let you in instead of pushing you away.

Whatever happens, I hope you know what an incredible person you are. You made me want to be better, Katara. I just wish I had been good enough to not run away.

All the best,
Zuko

Draft saved: Monday, August 17 10:24PM

-

It takes Zuko a month to craft the email properly. It goes through round after round of editing and he still can’t bring himself to send it.

After he finally shares a story about Katara with the anger management group, Toph insists on trying to help him.

“You’re going to try to win her back, right?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yeah, but I know how to read between the lines. The way you talked about her… she was special, wasn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

“Toph, she probably hates me.”

“They do say hate and love are closely linked.”

Zuko sighs. There’s no reasoning with Toph when she gets like this. Eventually, he reads her a draft of the email. She helps him, removing some of the more self-deprecating parts, until he finally sends it. It feels like a huge weight off his chest, and Toph insists he make her an extra-large boba to celebrate.

Katara doesn’t write back.

-

Zuko stays in touch with Azula over the following weeks. It’s mostly work-related; Zuko is polishing up his resumé, and Azula has a knack for writing cover letters. He goes to a half-dozen interview before he finally lands a job at a local company on a team studying environmental effects of oil drilling. Iroh throws a little party, and Toph, Jet, and a few of the anger-management crew show up to celebrate. Zuko is more than a little embarrassed, but he’s pleased to have made his uncle smile for once.

Zuko still helps out by working a shift at the Oolong Dragon on Sunday afternoons. Iroh is very selective in hiring new employees, so Zuko fills in in the interim. He doesn’t mind the extra work, even if he does get annoyed at how sticky he is by the end of each shift.

“Hey, Sparky! Meet my new friend!”

Toph bursts through the shop’s front door, a wide smile on her face. Zuko rolls his eyes at the nickname, but he smiles all the same. He always appreciates when Toph comes by to visit so he won’t be surrounded by teenagers all day.

Zuko is standing perpendicular to the counter, cleaning one of the machines. He can see Toph out of the corner of his eye. Behind her is a tall, bald young man. Zuko’s eyes widen, horrified, and he turns to face them.

Aang has grown a short beard in the year since Zuko had last seen him, but otherwise he looks the same. He glares at Zuko until he catches sight of the scar covering the left side of his face. Aang’s eyes bulge.

“Oh, monkeyfeathers.”

Toph frowns.

“You guys know each other?”

“How do you know each other?” Zuko says, still staring at Aang in shock.

“We’re in the same pottery class.”

Zuko looks away from Aang to give Toph a confused look.

“Pottery class? I thought you were pre-law.”

Zuko had thought this choice suited Toph perfectly; she had a preternatural ability to tell if people were lying and a strong sense of justice. Zuko pitied any criminals who went toe-to-toe with tiny Toph.

“Yeah, yeah, future lawyers can have fun, too,” Toph says with a slight blush. “Anyway, I knew you both went to Caldera City University, but that place is huge. I didn’t think you’d actually know each other.”

“I’m getting my Masters in education at Ba Sing Se College,” Aang explains, still eyeing Zuko with concern.

“So, what’s the deal? You guys enemies or something?”

Before either of them can answer, a group of giggling teenage girls enters the shop.

“Go ahead,” Toph tells them. “We need a minute.”

Zuko tries to collect himself as he takes the girls’ orders and makes their tea, but his brain buzzes with anxiety. Katara had said she and Aang had agreed to six months of radio silence before trying to resume their friendship. Were they in contact again? Did Aang know what a jerk Zuko had been? Did he know that Zuko and Katara had been involved? Judging by the initial glare Aang had been giving him, he was certainly angry, but Zuko wasn’t sure what about.

When the girls disperse, Toph places her order.

“Two Omashu-style: one with pearls and regular sweetness, and one with no pearls and no sweetness for my insane friend here.”

“Hey!” Aang protests. “A low-sugar diet has been shown to —“

“Yeah, yeah, save it Twinkletoes. Let me enjoy my sugar water.”

Zuko prepares the drinks as slowly as possible, trying to hide out in the back of the shop. When he emerges, the shop is empty save for Toph and Aang, and they both stare at him with serious expressions.

“So, uh, how’s school, Aang?”

“Is that really what you want to say to me?”

Aang’s tone is surprisingly gentle. Zuko scowls at him. He won’t accept pity, especially not from Aang.

“I know you hate me, okay?” he spits.

“I don’t hate you, Zuko,” Aang says, still calm. “I actually thought you were a nice person. I was really upset when Katara told me something bad happened to you, but she didn’t say…”

Aang gives Zuko’s face a wary look. Zuko’s scowl deepens.

“She doesn’t know,” Zuko says stiffly.

“Know about what?” Toph asks.

Zuko blinks. He’s known Toph for almost six months now, and even though she had heard some of his darkest secrets, Zuko had never outright said in group meetings what his father had done. He knew most people had figured it out, but Toph’s blindness was part of the reason Zuko liked hanging out with her. He never caught her absently staring at his scar. Most of the time they talked, she looked just slightly over his right shoulder.

Zuko’s anger deflates at the look of confusion on Toph’s face.

“I’ve got a scar on my face, Toph. A big one. From my dad.”

Toph’s face twists into a grimace.

“Fuck, Zuko. I didn’t know.”

“I know. I try not to tell anyone who can’t, y’know, see it.”

“Why didn’t you tell Katara?” Aang asks. “You know she wouldn’t care.”

“I care,” Zuko says fervently. “I don’t want her to see me like this.”

“So you just never want to see her again?”

Zuko glares darkly and says nothing. Aang frowns.

“You should have been honest with Katara, Zuko,” he says gently.

“I know,” Zuko says dejectedly. “I sent her an apology, actually. I know it probably won’t change anything, but she deserves it.”

“Did you tell her about…”

“No,” Zuko says firmly. “And please don’t tell her, Aang.”

“But why…?”
“Please, Aang.”

Aang frowns at Zuko, but he nods.

“Okay, I promise. I don’t really get it, but I promise.”

No customers enter the shop for the next half hour, so Toph, Aang, and Zuko fall into awkward conversation. Zuko endeavors to say as little as possible. For all the thinking he’s been doing about his past, he hasn’t been confronted with it in quite some time. Most of his actions were to move forward — new job, new friends, new start — but in doing so he was trying to ignore what had come before. Aang’s presence was a reminder that Zuko had made mistakes, but also that he had been happy for a short time in his life. He and Aang had certainly not been close, but they had been friendly. Zuko had always waved when Aang had passed by on his unicycle.

The elephant in the room is not addressed until three days later, when Toph invites Aang to their kung fu training center.

“Why is he here?” Zuko hisses to Toph under his breath. Aang, oblivious, gives an excited wave from the corner where he is surrounded by seven-year-olds.

“He wanted to learn,” Toph says with a shrug. “Said he and Katara used to do tai chi together and he thought it would be cool to try this out.”

“Kung fu and tai chi are not the same thing,” Zuko says irritably.

“True,” Toph agrees. “But he was excited, and who am I to tell him not to tag along?”

“You love telling people what to do.”

“I love telling you what to do, Sparky. Now, get all your anger out because you and Aang are going to hash shit out tonight.”

“What are you talking about?” Zuko says unconvincingly.

“Don’t play dumb, Sparky. I know you’re smarter than that.”

Zuko moves through his workout with much more vigor than usual. All of his sparring partners limp off the mat a little worse for wear.

“Wow, Zuko!” Aang says excitedly as they leave the training studio. “You were awesome! Can you teach me some of your moves? That kick thing was so cool!”

“You have to start with the basics, Aang,” Zuko says sternly. “Otherwise you could hurt yourself.”

Aang gives a little mock bow.

“Yes, Sifu.”

Zuko rolls his eyes. He unlocks his car and Toph and Aang pile inside; Aang shoves his unicycle in the trunk, and Toph folds up her cane into the front seat with her. They arrive at the Oolong Dragon, where Zuko makes the three of them tea. Toph takes hers with a heaping amount of sugar, while Zuko and Aang prefer their tea unsweetened.

“Alright, boys,” Toph says, belching loudly as she drains her tea. “Let’s do this.”

“Do what?” Aang asks, looking slightly concerned.

“Talk,” Toph says, looking suddenly severe. “About Katara.”

Both Aang and Zuko flush.

“It’s none of your business, Toph,” Zuko says waspishly.

“Bullshit. I helped you write that email for weeks.”

Zuko opens his mouth to fire back, but Aang interrupts.

“Katara told me you wrote her an email.”

Zuko’s stomach twists into knots.

“She did?”

“Yeah, but she hasn’t read it.”

“Oh.”

Zuko supposes that Katara has every right to ignore him, but it still stings. He had hoped that at least the subject like of I’m sorry would entice her to give him a chance.

“I told her to read it,” Aang continues.

“You did? Why?”

Aang shrugs.

“I don’t really see the point in her ignoring it. I think she’s just scared not to be mad at you anymore. I know you two were… close.”

“You know about that?”

“Yeah,” Aang says with an apologetic shrug. “I saw you guys out a few times. I didn’t say hi because it was when Katara and I were trying to keep our distance from each other.”

“Oh,” Zuko says, surprised. “But… you said you didn’t hate me. You should hate me. Katara was your girlfriend for six years.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you stole her away from me or anything,” Aang says as he sips his tea. “Sure, I was jealous at first. I really missed Katara. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I missed her paying attention to me. It was nice, you know? She always put me first. It made me feel special. But the problem was she never put herself first. We started resenting each other and I would get mad when she tried to pull away. When I saw her with you, I wished I had done things differently. I wished I was still the center of her attention like you seemed to be. Then one night I saw you guys again and I saw the way you were looking at her. You were so focused on her — I think that’s why you never noticed me cycling by. You paid attention to her. She looked really happy. I figured that was the whole point of us breaking up, so she could put herself first, and maybe to find someone else who did, too. Don’t get me wrong — I was still kind of annoyed about it, but I don’t like feeling jealous. I’ve tried really hard to work past it.”

Zuko stares at Aang, his mouth slightly open.

“Wow, Aang,” he says finally. “That’s… I mean… You’re a way better person than me.”

“No, I’m not,” Aang says simply. “I’ve just spent a lot of time working on myself this past year. It’s been really good, actually. I recommend it.”

Zuko stares at his tea again. He has been making slow efforts, but he can’t ever imagine being so free of resentment towards others. As much as he tells himself he wants Katara to be happy, he knows if he saw her with someone else he would be positively green with jealousy.

“Zuko,” Aang says softly. “I’m really not mad at you, but I know Katara is. I think it’s great that you apologized, and I really hope she comes around. I don’t want to push her, but I can try to help.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Zuko says with a sigh. “But I appreciate it. Katara should decide what she wants to do. If she never wants to hear from me again, well… that’s what I get for treating her badly.”

Aang nods.

“Can we be friends?” Aang asks. “Or is that too hard?”

Zuko looks up. Aang’s grey eyes shine, his expression open and welcoming.

“I’d like to be your friend,” Zuko admits quietly.

Aang sits up and grins brightly.

“Cool! Because I really liked kung fu class tonight, and it would be fun to hang out more. The people in my education classes are nice, but not one of them wanted to learn how to ride a unicycle!”

“Hard to imagine why,” Toph says dryly. “It sounds like such a fun death-trap.”

“It’s really safe!” Aang protests. “I could teach you!”

“Hard pass,” Toph says with a grin. “Now, if we’re all done with this feelings crap, shall we resume our usual tradition?”

“What’s that?” Aang asks with interest.

“Zuko drives me home and we watch old martial arts movies. Zuko narrates all the fight scenes for me and we make fun of the bad ones. You want in?”

“Yeah! Let’s go!”

Zuko is subdued the rest of the evening, the conversation about Katara still rattling around in his brain. It’s hard to focus at first, but Aang seems to truly harbor no ill-will towards Zuko, and eventually Zuko accepts it. He’s not used to people wanting to be his friend.

Two weeks pass and Zuko is getting ready for a Friday night movie marathon with Toph and Aang when he receives an unexpected missive.

Katara W. Subject: RE: I’m sorry

Zuko freezes, staring at the screen for a full minute before he opens the email.

Dear Zuko,

Thank you for your letter. I know it must have been really hard for you to write, and I appreciate your apology. I’m not really great at forgiving people, but I’m tired of being mad at you. It doesn’t make me feel better about what happened.

I should apologize too. I’d like to think we got to know each other pretty well, and that I should have seen what you were trying to do. I know you wanted to push me away, but I shouldn’t have let you. You were hurting, and you needed help. Instead, I focused on my own hurt and shut you out. I’m sorry. I know you’ve been through a lot, and I wish you had let me in. I’d also like to think of myself as someone who would never turn her back on someone in need, but I did. I’m sorry, and I hope that you’ve been able to heal in whatever way you can. I’m glad to hear you’re with your uncle. You always said he was a good person.

You’re right that I’m in med school now. I just started at North Pole University. It’s really great, although there’s sort of this weird vibe about me being from the South Pole. People around here are surprisingly snobby about it — like we all ended up in the same place, right? Clearly we’re all equally smart! Please tell me I was not as annoying a premed student as some of the people here.

Aang told me he’s seen you a few times around Ba Sing Se. He’s actually the one who (not-so-subtly) suggested that I actually read your email. I’ll be honest — I was scared to open it for a long time. I knew it would make me sad, and it was easier being mad. But like I said, I wasn’t really getting anything out of being mad except, you know, being mad, so I’m glad I opened it. Although it is annoying that Aang was right that it would make me feel better. He’s always right about this kind of stuff. Anyway, he told me you guys were doing kung fu together, which sounds really cool. Do me a favor and watch out for him — if there are any cute girls around, he has a tendency to try to show off and sometimes it ends badly. If you need something to annoy him about, ask him to tell you the story about him trying to beat my brother Sokka in a handstand contest. Works every time.

Well, this email ended up being a lot more conversational than I intended, but I guess that’s what I miss about you, Zuko. I always felt like I could talk to you, even when I was mad. Actually, especially when I was mad, because I feel like you know what it’s like to be really angry (which I hope for your sake has gotten better, because I know being angry all the time isn’t fun). If you want, maybe we could be pen friends? School keeps me busy, but it’s nice to have a letter to look forward to sometimes.

I hope you’re well. I miss you.

Katara

Zuko sits down heavily on the edge of his bed. His heart is racing. He had almost given up hope of Katara responding to him. Yet not only had she written back, but she wanted to keep writing. Perhaps they wouldn’t be as close of friends — she had specified upfront that it was difficult for her to completely forgive him — but it wasn’t nothing.

Zuko waits all of ten minutes to reply. He is too impatient to stop himself.

Zuko Sozin
to Katara ⬇️
Subject: Hey

Hi Katara,

I would really like to be your pen friend. If you change your mind, or if you don’t want to hear from me anymore, I get it. But I would do anything to make things right with you. You don’t ever need to apologize to me. I never felt for a second like you turned your back on me. I turned you away, and just because I was also hurt doesn’t excuse what I did.

Congratulations on med school. I see what you did there, casually dropping that you’re at the best medical school in the whole country. I’m sorry people are being snobby. You’re great, and they’re just being dicks for no reason. And you were not that pre-med kid (other than the study bunker method). What sort of stuff are you learning? Is it true you dissect a cadaver right away? I remember having to dissect a rat in biology class and I could barely do it.

You’re right about Aang always being right about feelings. I’ve been going to this group meeting for working on my anger and Aang has started coming, too. He probably told you about how he wants to do education stuff teaching meditation and mindfulness to at-risk kids, so I figured I could invite him to test it out on a bunch of adults. It’s been really great, actually, even though I did fall asleep last time. Aang wasn’t mad about it though — he was actually really proud he got me relaxed enough to fall asleep.

Good thinking on looking out for him at kung fu. Right now, he’s starting out with a bunch of first graders, but I still caught him trying to compete with them on who could hold the splits for longest. The guy is crazy flexible.

I know you’re really busy, so you don’t have to respond any time soon. We can write however often you want. I’m just happy to hear from you, and I’m really glad to get the chance to talk to you.

-Zuko

Sent: Friday September 26 6:47PM

Zuko knows that he probably should have taken his time to answer, but he rationalizes that the whole mess with Katara was because he hadn’t been honest with her. Sure, his email sounds a little desperate, but he is desperate. He wants so badly to have her back, even just through the screen of his phone, that he is willing to take whatever he can get.

He waves goodbye to his uncle on his way out the door, giving him an extra-wide smile. Iroh seems heartened by his nephew’s good cheer, and he smiles back. Zuko drives to Toph’s house, whistling along with radio. His heart feels lighter than it has in a very long time.

Chapter Text

Leaves shrivel and fall from the trees, yet Zuko cannot help but think that this winter is a period of growth for him. He is given more responsibility at work, and his boss seems pleased with the results. He shares more with his anger group, and finds that Aang’s mindfulness tricks actually help him get through difficult days. He spends more time with his uncle and friends and less time alone. A part of him is waiting for something bad to come — nothing good in his life has ever lasted very long — but mostly he is focused on preserving his progress.

The progress he guards most preciously is his correspondence with Katara. He is careful not to discuss the past, especially what had happened to him, and instead tells Katara about his new job and friendships. Katara responds in kind, peppering her missives with factoids she is learning in school. Once, Katara tells him that she saves his emails as a treat at the end of the week when she has finished studying, and Zuko walks on air for days afterwards. He makes sure to respond to Katara before each week ends so that she can have something to look forward to.

The new year has barely begun when Zuko gets the chance to represent his company at a clean energy conference in Kyoshi. It is an excellent opportunity for him professionally, and although he is still wary of meeting new people — reactions to his face
vary from curiosity to disgust — he is eager to learn more about his field. The only downside is that the conference buts up against a popular vacation weekend, so staying a few extra days for fun won’t be possible. All the hotels are already booked up.

Zuko mentions this offhand in an email to Katara. She eagerly responds.

My brother Sokka and his girlfriend Suki have lived in Kyoshi since they graduated from college there. You should say hi! I’m sure they’d be really happy to let you stay over the weekend. They’ve got an extra bedroom, and lots of extra snowboards and skis if that’s your thing. They’re total gear heads. I know you mentioned you used to like going up to the mountains with your mom when you were a kid. Suki and Sokka would be happy to lend you stuff if you wanted to join them. Just watch out — Sokka tends to get really competitive, so don’t let him talk you into doing anything stupid.

Zuko is tempted by the offer. He hasn’t been skiing in years, and Kyoshi is known for its great slopes. Zuko writes back.

Thanks, Katara, but your brother doesn’t even know me. I couldn’t put him out like that.

Katara’s response is exactly what he expects.

Don’t be silly! I already called him. He’s excited to meet you. He and Suki live right off the green line on the subway. I’ll send him your number so you can coordinate. And please take a picture for me!

Zuko stomach knots at the idea of sending Katara a picture. He had managed to skirt around this for months so far without her mentioning it. In one of their first messages, Katara had included a picture of her from her white coat ceremony, beaming with a stethoscope around her neck, her father and brother on either side. Zuko had panicked for a while before responding with a picture of Aang and Toph in kung fu class. Katara had sent a half-dozen pictures with her emails since then, mostly of her having fun in the North Pole. Zuko had purposefully chosen pictures without himself: uncle Iroh waving hello from the tea shop, the view of Ba Sing Se at sunset, Aang on his unicycle.

Zuko knew it was stupid. If he wanted to be friends with Katara, eventually she would find out about his face. It would be better to just tell her what happened, but he could not bring himself to do it. Not in an email at least.

Zuko realizes that meeting Sokka might put an end to his strategy, especially if Katara wanted a picture of them together. He worries about it the entire flight to Kyoshi. He thinks about canceling his trip and flying back directly to Ba Sing Se once the conference is finished, but Sokka sends him a barrage of excited texts, saying he is eager to ’shred’ with him. Perhaps Zuko’s subconscious is trying to help him out, forcing him to reveal himself to someone who will surely report back to Katara. At least, that’s the only explanation Zuko can think of as he gets off the subway to meet Sokka and Suki at the appointed time.

He waits anxiously on the sidewalk, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder while he looks around. He hears someone say his name, but in the bustle of people, he can’t pick out the direction. He turns just in time to see a man approach him.

“Hey, are you Zuk—oh, holy shit!”

The man, who Zuko recognizes as Sokka from Katara’s pictures, stares at Zuko’s face in abject horror. Zuko shrinks into himself, mortified.

“Sokka, get it together,” a woman next to him hisses under her breath.

She turns to Zuko and gives him an intense, but not unfriendly, look.

“Hi, I’m Suki,” she says, extending a hand. Zuko shakes it, still too embarrassed to speak.

“Uh, right. I’m Sokka,” Sokka says belatedly, also shaking Zuko’s hand. “We live just up the block. Want me to take your bag?”

Zuko shakes his head and follows them with his eyes glued to the pavement.

“Sorry about that, man,” Sokka says sheepishly. “Katara must have sent me an old photo.”

“Photo?” Zuko blurts.

Sokka whips out his phone, holding up a text thread from Katara. In it is a picture of Zuko, smiling at the bar the night of their beer-drinking ‘experiment’ for class. He is half-smirking, amused at Katara taking the picture. His heart leaps to his throat at the memory.

Zuko swallows heavily.

“Yeah, uh, she…” he says haltingly. “She doesn’t know about…”

He gestures to his face. Sokka’s eyebrows lift high up his forehead.

“Really? The way she talks about you, I thought you guys talked like, all the time.”

“We’re pen friends,” Zuko explains, hating the flush that creeps up his neck. “We write emails. So we haven’t seen each other for a long time.”

“And you didn’t think to mention to her you got into a fight with a fucking bear?”

Zuko shoots Sokka a confused look. Suki tuts.

“Sokka, seriously? Not the time to make jokes.”

“Well, I don’t want to make assumptions!” Sokka protests. “Maybe he got into a fight with a bear and it tried to eat his face or something!”

Suki hides her face in her hands, clearly embarrassed at her boyfriend’s behavior, but Zuko starts laughing. Suki and Sokka stare at him, mystified.

“Sorry,” Zuko says when his laughter subsides. “That’s a good one. I should use that when people ask. Way better than the real story.”

He can tell that Sokka is bursting to ask, but Suki trods heavily on his foot and he lets out a yelp. Zuko sighs.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get a head’s up. I don’t blame you for being surprised. I just… I haven’t told Katara yet. It’s hard to talk about.”

He takes a deep breath. He’s almost never said it out loud before, but Aang suggested practicing it. Aang’s theory was that Zuko was having trouble accepting what had happened, and he needed to be okay with telling himself the truth. This is the first time Zuko tells anyone the whole story.

“A year and a half ago, my father attacked me and threw acid in my face.”

Suki and Sokka’s eyes are as wide as dinner plates. The silence between the three of them is broken only by the sounds of the city rushing around them.

“Er,” Zuko says after a long pause. “Sorry, that was a super intense thing to say to people I just met, wasn’t it?”

“It’s okay,” Suki recovers. “That sounds really difficult to talk about. I imagine it might be easier to say it to people who don’t know you well, instead of your old friends, like Katara.”

Zuko had not considered this. He blinks, surprised by this realization.

“Yeah, Suki is pretty smart about this stuff,” Sokka says proudly, recognizing Zuko’s impressed look. “And I’m really sorry about your dad. He sounds like a fucking monster.”

“He’s in prison now,” Zuko shrugs.

“Good,” Sokka says darkly. “Well, I’m still sorry I reacted that way. I should’ve played it cool.”

“Yes, because you’re normally so very cool,” Suki jokes fondly.

“Cool enough for you!” Sokka says with a grin.

The difficult subject of Zuko’s past fades away as they walk up the stairs to Sokka and Suki’s apartment. The two of them lovingly trade barbs as they tell Zuko about the city, their plans for the weekend, and about the skiing conditions they will encounter.

Zuko feels a strange giddiness in his chest. He has unburdened himself of his secret in full for the first time ever, and nothing bad has happened to him. He had been able to reluctantly admit he had been attacked by his father before, but he had always felt there was something shameful about the way he had suffered. It had been easier to let people draw their own conclusions than to admit his father had purposefully burned him.

Sokka and Suki are quite the duo, and Zuko is soon having so much fun that he forgets their first uncomfortable interaction. They all go out to an all-you-can-eat buffet that Sokka absolutely demolishes (gotta fuel up for the slopes tomorrow), followed by a round of darts at a nearby bar. Suki trounces them all soundly, and they retreat to the apartment to rest for their long weekend in the mountains.

Although Kyoshi is an urban center, a quick ride on the subway takes them to the edge of town, where gondolas lift them up into the mountains. Zuko has been outfitted with a pair of old skis, while Sokka and Suki ride snowboards. The two of them carve down the mountain gracefully, slashing through the fresh snow. Zuko takes a few easy laps to warm up, but he is happy to find that his childhood instincts are still intact, and his fitness from kung fu gives him the muscle he needs to execute some impressive turns of his own. By the end of the weekend, Sokka has goaded Zuko into visiting the snow park with him where they practice tricks. Zuko thinks of Katara and tries to be careful, but he can’t resist trying front and backflips. He does them all the time in kung fu, and he is fortunate that it carries over onto the snow. He knows he would be in big trouble with her if he managed to break something.

Before they descend the mountain, Sokka grabs a passerby to take a picture. He throws one arm around Suki and the other around Zuko, pulling down his mask to grin. Suki does the same, but Zuko does not. With his helmet, tinted snow goggles, and balaclava, his face is entirely covered. He smiles anyway, even though no one can see it.

They get back to the apartment, sore and windswept from the cold, but elated. Sokka recounts the best of his runs down the mountain while Suki adds a heavy splash of whiskey to their hot chocolates.

“And then I was like whoosh over the rails and I was like oh shit because I thought I miscalculated, so I went to bail out, but I had some extra speed and transitioned it over to the moguls — “

Zuko listens, already half-asleep from exhaustion and the booze in his hot chocolate.

Sokka’s phone buzzes, interrupting his train of thought.

“Hey, it’s Katara!” he says happily. “She says hi,” he adds to Suki and Zuko.

The phone buzzes again. Sokka’s smile fades. Zuko suddenly feels awake, concerned.

“What’s wrong?”

Sokka hesitates, staring at Zuko. Finally he sighs.

“She says she’s bummed she can’t see your face.”

Zuko’s stomach drops.

“Oh.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Sokka says quickly. “Like, she probably doesn’t suspect you’ve got a facial injury. I mean, you can barely even see Suki and me, so I don’t know what she’s complaining about…”

“It’s okay, Sokka,” Zuko says. “I know she doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Suki and Sokka share a meaningful look.

“Have you… thought about telling her?” Suki asks gently. “I know it’s not an easy subject, but I think Katara of all people would understand.”

Zuko lets out small huff of amusement. Clearly, Suki and Sokka had been discussing this with each other and waiting for the right time to broach it with him. Zuko has had the most fun weekend he’s had in a long time, so he decides he owes it to them to play along.

“You said it yourself,” Zuko says to Suki. “It’s easier to tell strangers than someone I know well. And Katara would be okay with it. Well, maybe not okay — she’d be upset I got hurt and upset I took so long to tell her what happened — but I know me having a scar wouldn’t bother her. It’s just…”

Understanding dawns on Sokka’s face.

“You like my sister, don’t you?”

Zuko thinks about denying it, but nods instead.

“I knew there was something there,” Sokka says with satisfaction. “It was always so weird the way she talked about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for starters it was weird that she didn’t talk about you for like a year. After she and Aang broke up, I called her a lot so she wouldn’t be sad, and she started telling me all about you. You guys were in that chemistry class together, right?”

Zuko nods, his heart beating a little faster as Sokka speaks.

“She kept talking about you and then all of a sudden she stopped. She seemed bummed about something, but I, uh... I’m not always the best about talking about that kind of stuff,” Sokka says, rubbing the back of his head. “Thought it was my job to keep the conversation light, you know? Anyway, she didn’t mention you again until like last fall. When she told me you were gonna be in Kyoshi this weekend, she practically begged me to be nice to you. She hasn’t done that since she dated Aang and wanted me to be nice to him. Like I wasn’t going to be nice to a kid with a fucking brain tumor.”

Zuko squirms in his seat.

“We’re just friends,” Zuko says nervously.

“Yeah, but she likes you. And you like her, don’t you? So what’s stopping you?”

Zuko can’t imagine someone he wants to have this conversation with less. Sokka might be a cool guy, but he is still Katara’s brother. He knows he would feel weird interfering in Azula’s love life. Then again, Azula an Ty Lee had just celebrated their one-year anniversary of dating, so clearly she didn’t need any interference. Zuko is still torturing himself over the same person after two years, so maybe he should listen to Sokka.

“You trust Katara, right?” Suki asks, fixing Zuko with her intense gaze again.

“Of course.”

“Then you should trust her with the truth. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Zuko has spent many hours pondering this himself. He lets out a sigh.

“You’re both right,” he admits. “I should just tell her. It… took me a while to come to terms with what happened, I guess.”

“That makes sense,” Sokka says, nodding. “And we’re not trying to pressure you, man. I just think you’re a good dude. If my sister likes you, well… I’m okay with that.”

“Coming from him,” Suki says with a smirk, “that’s basically permission to marry Katara.”

“Hey!” Sokka protests. “Nobody said anything about getting married. I’m just saying, if he makes Katara happy, that’s cool with me. But,” he adds dangerously, pointing a finger at Zuko. “I’ve got my eye on you. You make Katara sad, you gotta fix it this time. No fucking around moping for a year, got it?”

Suki looks ready to challenge Sokka for his accusation of ‘moping,’ but Zuko grins. He likes that Sokka doesn’t walk on eggshells around him and calls him out on his shit. It reminds him of Katara.

“Deal,” Zuko says.

“Good,” Sokka says happily. “Now, let’s get back to more interesting things. Suki, did you catch that last flip I did?”

When Zuko arrives back in Ba Sing Se, the excitement from the weekend morphs into worry. He knows it is long past time to be honest with Katara, but every time he sits down to write the email, he just can’t do it. For the first time in months, he misses his self-imposed weekend deadline to write to Katara.

He goes to Toph for advice.

“Why do you have to put it in a letter?” she asks.

“We send each other email,” Zuko explains. “I mean, I guess I could text her, but that seems even weirder.”

“If you can text her, that means you still have her number, right?”

“Uh, yes?”

“Then just call her, dummy.”

“I’m bad on the phone, Toph.”

“Fucking hell, Zuko,” Toph says, annoyed. “You’re just telling her you’ve got a big scar on your face, not declaring your everlasting love for her. I know those two things have gotten all mixed up in your brain, but you gotta start with one thing at a time. Just tell her you want to talk and see how it goes. You can confess your feelings for her later.”

Zuko frowns at Toph, wanting to argue, but she has a point. For Zuko, telling Katara the truth about his father would also mean admitting why he had avoided telling her for so long. As long as it had taken Zuko to accept the fact that his father had purposefully disfigured him, it had taken even longer for him to realize that he had been in love with Katara. He had kept silent about his injuries because he had not wanted to be even less worthy of her than he already felt. But Toph was right; it would be enough to tell Katara ‘my father burned me with acid’ without adding ‘and I’ve been in love with you for two years.’

He finally responds to Katara’s email, recapping his week in Kyoshi and asking her about her classes. In the last line, he slips it in:

There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you about, but it’s been hard for me to write in an email. Would you be able to talk on the phone? If you don’t want to, that’s okay.

He hits send and spends the next few hours burning off his nervous energy with Aang at the kung fu training center. When he returns home and checks his phone, he has three missed calls. Without thinking, he hits the ‘call back’ button.

“Hello? Zuko?”

Zuko shuts his eyes, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest.

“Hi, Katara,” he rasps.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. Just something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okay. I’m listening.”

He imagines Katara in his mind’s eye, the look of concern on her face she always wore when Zuko told her about a problem he was facing. Usually, the problem in question had been for his homework for one of his chemical engineering classes, but he had always felt touched that she had taken him so seriously.

Zuko takes a steadying breath. He wishes he had practiced what he was going to say first, but he figures this way he can’t sugarcoat the truth. He just needs to spit it out.

“I never told you what happened to me last year. With my dad, I mean.”

“Well…” Katara says slowly. “You told me he attacked you and that you went to the hospital.”

“Yeah, that’s true. But I didn’t tell you what happened.”

“Zuko, if you don’t want to tell me —“

“No,” Zuko says firmly. “I want to tell you. You… you probably wondered why I haven’t sent you any pictures. Of me, I mean. Since you’ve been sending me pictures of you.”

The silence is fraught with tension. Zuko takes another deep breath.

“My dad attacked my face. He… he burned me. With acid.”

He hears a sharp intake of breath. For a long moment, all he can hear is Katara’s heavy breathing.

“Oh, Zuko,” she says thickly. “I’m so sorry. I…”

She trails off, and the silence hangs heavily between them. Zuko can hear some sniffling and he thinks Katara might be crying. Tears start to sting at his own eyes.

“Is that… is that why you didn’t send me pictures? Because your face looks… different?”

“I’ve got a scar,” Zuko says, his throat tight. “Over most of the left side of my face. I was wearing safety goggles, so I at least saved my eyes. But it’s… well, I’m trying to get used to it, but it’s hard for most people to look at.”

“Zuko, I’m so sorry your dad hurt you. But I don’t care if you have a scar,” Katara says passionately. “You’re still the same person to me. You know that, right?”

“I know,” Zuko says, the ghost of a smile flickering over his face. “But I didn’t want you to see me like this. And I thought as long as we were just writing to each other, you’d never have to know, which meant I never had to talk about it. I wasn’t ready to talk about it. But… I really care about you, Katara, and I felt like I was lying to you by not telling you. I don’t want to lie to you.”

“It’s okay, Zuko,” Katara says softly. “Thank you for telling me. I know it must have been really hard. I wish you hadn’t gone through all of this. Or at least, I wish I had been there with you. I don’t know if I could have helped, but I hate the thought of you being alone.”

Zuko grunts out an affirmative noise. Katara’s words make him feel tender and fragile. He doesn’t quite trust himself to speak.

“Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?” Katara continues in a gentle tone.

Zuko hesitates. Hope flutters in his chest. What if he told her everything? That he had loved her when they were together, that he still loved her now? But it feels like too big a risk, and he swallows it down instead.

“No,” he says quietly. “Just that.”

“Okay,” Katara says easily. “In that case, I have something to talk to you about.”

“You do?”

“Sokka sent me a video from your ski trip,” Katara says, the sound of a smile in her voice. “You told me you hadn’t been skiing in years, and yet here you are, busting out a backflip. Or trying to, at least. Your skis fly off at the end of it.”

Zuko groans.

“Aw, man, I forgot he filmed that. I landed the next one!”

“Zuko, you could’ve broken like, every bone in your body.”

“You were right. Sokka is a bad influence.”

Katara laughs. Zuko’s heart leaps at the sound.

“It’s really nice to talk to you,” Katara says warmly. “Do you think we can talk on the phone more?”

Even though Zuko finds phone calls awkward, he doesn’t hesitate.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Great!” Katara says eagerly. “Well, listen, I gotta go meet up with my study group right now, but can I call you tomorrow? We can catch up more then.”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay. And Zuko? Thanks again for telling me. It really means a lot to hear it from you. It’s really nice to hear your voice again. I missed talking to you.”

“Yeah,” Zuko says in a strangled voice. “Yeah, I missed it too.”

After they hang up, Zuko flops onto his bed, still in his workout clothes. He takes several deep breaths to calm himself, but it has the rather opposite effect.

His mind replays the sound of Katara’s voice, the way she had said his name and the way she had laughed. He imagines her smiling at him like she used to, only now she is looking at his scar. But she still smiles in his imagination — she is not afraid of him or disgusted by him. She leans in close and he can smell her again, that intoxicating scent of Katara that he has never found an equal to. He shoves his hand under his shorts, stroking himself as he continues to imagine Katara. She is here, in his room, kissing him up against the wall like she used to. She is lying back on his bed, her eyes challenging him to chase after her. She is panting against him, moaning his name, desperate for him to bring her to the brink.

Zuko comes with a grunt, practically doubled over at the force of it. He tries not to fantasize about Katara too much — it feels weird, given how he had been working so hard to repair their friendship — but the rare treat of this fantasy makes it all the more powerful.

He drags himself into the shower to wash away his sweat. He tries not to let guilt settle over him for thinking about Katara this way. He is buoyed by the memory of Sokka’s words: she likes you. And you like her, don’t you? So what’s stopping you?

Perhaps Katara will only want to remain as friends. If that is the case, Zuko will make peace with it. But if Sokka was right, if Katara wanted more than that… well, now there was one less thing standing in Zuko’s way. The truth had set him free.

Chapter Text

Sunday nights are sacred to Zuko. He has an early dinner with Iroh, and then at exactly eight in the evening, Iroh shoos Zuko away so he can call Katara.

Zuko does not normally enjoy talking on the phone. Anyone he keeps in touch with who doesn’t live in Ba Sing Se — namely, his sister, and now Sokka and Suki, who keep inviting him back to Kyoshi — he uses text to communicate. With texting, he had the time to craft the right reply, and a low expectation for response length. But then, Zuko has always found Katara easy to talk to in a way that he had scarcely found in anyone else.

Their first conversations are still guarded. Despite Zuko telling Katara about his father, he still finds it difficult to open up, even about minor details. There is something holding him back, some residual fear of being judged for what he says. It bothers him.

So he decides to do something about it.

“I went to see a therapist on Thursday,” he tells Katara in a would-be casual tone that Sunday evening.

“You weren’t seeing one already?” Katara asks.

“Well, I’ve been going to the group therapy thing for a while,” Zuko says, picking at a loose thread on his old hoodie. “But I’ve never gone just for myself.”

“Oh,” Katara says in a surprised tone. “Well, how was it?”

“I don’t think I made a good first impression,” Zuko admits.

“I mean, of all the people to not make a good first impression on, I feel like a therapist is probably an okay option. They’re supposed to help you through some dark stuff, so why not see the worst side of you right away?”

“Maybe,” Zuko concedes. “But I think I came off as really crazy.”

“You’re not crazy!” Katara protests.

“When he asked me if I had been through any trauma, I laughed hysterically for a full two minutes.”

Katara lets out a loud snort. Zuko is glad they don’t use a videochat so she can’t see the goofy grin that spreads over his face at the sound.

“Well, lots of people try out multiple therapists before they find one that works for them. You could always start over if you wanted,” Katara suggests.

“True. I think I might go back again though.”

“I think it’s really great you’re going to see someone, Zuko.”

Zuko flushes.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” he says cautiously. “Have you tried out any new restaurants with your friends this week?”

Katara lets him change the flow of the conversation into safer waters. They often talk about food, the thing that had first brought them together. But Katara has an excellent memory, and she brings it up again the next week.

“How was therapy?”

“Better this time,” Zuko says shyly. “No more inappropriate laughter.”

Katara never presses for details, although Zuko knows her well enough to know that she is curious. Katara loves helping people, and she loves talking people through problems. The issue, of course, is that Zuko can’t easily talk about his problems, so he hopes therapy can help. He wants to stop shutting people out, so he tries extra hard, even though therapy is uncomfortable and tiring at times.

Just as life falls back into a rhythm, Zuko gets some interesting news.

“We’re looking to promote you,” his boss tells him in a conspiratorial whisper. “So get your CV brushed up.”

Zuko takes the head’s up seriously. He has been proud of his work at his company, and he had gone to enough therapy at this point to recognize that he actually deserved recognition for it. When the requisite meetings for promotion come up, Zuko enters with more confidence than he has had in years. He even manages to make a joke. He had mined Sokka for puns about clean energy; Sokka had been texting him ideas nonstop for a week and a half, and one of them was actually funny enough to repeat.

Zuko gets the job, which comes with a pay raise and two direct reports under him. There is only one problem: the job necessitates a move.

“We’d be looking to transfer you to our North Pole offices,” his boss says with some regret. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find anything for you here, but I really did try. I know you’ve got family here.”

“It’s okay,” Zuko says quickly. “I’ll think about it.”

He is barely two sentences into explaining the issue to his uncle when he is interrupted.

“Nephew, this is wonderful news! I am sure you will enjoy living in the North Pole. The winters are cold, certainly, but they say there are beautiful northern lights every night. And you will be closer to your special friend, Katara, yes?”

Zuko flushes. Iroh has taken to calling Katara his ‘special friend’ and it embarrasses Zuko to no end. He can’t bring himself to ask his uncle to stop though; he knows that will just make Iroh say it even more.

“I’m not sure if I’m going to take the job,” Zuko points out. “I’d have to move away from you. And I have friends here, and the therapy group, and the kung fu center, and…”

Iroh sets a calming hand on Zuko’s shoulder.

“If you do not want to go, that is your choice, nephew,” Iroh says gently. “But you will not lose these things if you leave. Your friends will still care about you, no matter where you are. You will be able to find the places and people you need to support you. And I am always with you, nephew, wherever you are.”

Zuko nods tightly. He doesn’t hug his uncle very often, but he does so now. Iroh smells like ginseng and toasted rice. Zuko smiles as he pulls away.

“Thank you, uncle, for everything you have done for me.”

“It was always my pleasure, nephew. Now, let us toast to your success! I have a bottle of sake around here somewhere…”

It is hard to say goodbye to Toph and Aang. Toph especially seems disheartened by the move, but cheers somewhat when Zuko agrees to schedule kung fu movie nights with her online. Aang, on the other hand, seems excited to now have two friends to visit in the North Pole.

“We can go sledding together!” he says excitedly.

“Aang, it’s July.”

“Well, maybe not now,” Aang says sheepishly. “But eventually! Toph, you’ll come too, right?”

“Seeing as I don’t have a death wish, no, I will not be going downhill in a sled with you.”

“Aw, it will be fun!”

“I will have fun with my feet on solid earth, thank you very much. Walking through snow that I can’t see is weird and impossible.”

Zuko gives them both a hug goodbye — really, he was starting to get used to this whole hugging thing — and boards his flight on his one-way ticket.

He has barely set foot in the North Pole before he is tackled in another hug. When Katara had insisted on meeting him at the airport, Zuko assumed she would pick him up at the curb, but she is waiting for him as he steps out of the terminal to get his luggage. The force of her enthusiasm almost knocks him over.

“Zuko!” she cries. “Oh, it’s so good to see you again!”

Zuko’s mouth goes dry. It was one thing to see her in pictures, but seeing her now, mere inches in front of him, is almost overwhelming. As much as he has been trying suppress his crush, he knows that it will be a miracle if he doesn’t blurt out his feelings before summer is over.

Katara seems unbothered by his silence, and she excitedly fills it as they wait for his luggage. She runs through a list of all the places Zuko has to try — coffee shops and restaurants and breweries. Best of all, she volunteers to take him to all of these places herself. If Zuko could screw up the nerve to tell her he liked her, and if she felt the same, they could have their next two dozen dates already planned out.

His company is paying for him to stay in a motel until he can find a more permanent place to live, so Katara drives him there and they go to her favorite sushi place after. He finds it very hard to think straight with Katara smiling at him so much.

“It’s just so nice to see you in person,” she repeats several times.

“Yeah,” Zuko says, trying not to choke on his nigiri. “Really nice.”

“We should make this a tradition!” she says with enthusiasm. “You said you used to do Sunday dinner with your uncle, right? I know it’s not the same, but we could do dinners together if you want.”

“You really want to?”

“Of course! Although we probably shouldn’t go out to sushi every time. I am still a broke student, after all.”

“But…” Zuko says hesitantly. He doesn’t want to blow his chances right out the gate, but it seems incredible that Katara would be so eager to resume their friendship. “Aren’t you still mad at me?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you said you find it really hard to forgive people. And I was a total jerk.”

Katara gives him a soft smile that makes Zuko’s heart thud painfully against his ribs.

“That was almost a year ago, Zuko. You’ve changed a lot.”

“But…”

“I’m not saying it was easy for me to trust you,” Katara continues in a serious tone. “In fact, the first few months where we were emailing, I kept asking myself why are you doing this? He’s just going to push you away again. But you didn’t. And other than two years ago, you’ve always been honest with me.”

“I didn’t tell you about my face,” he points out.

“You were struggling,” Katara says with a shrug. “You had to tell me in your own time.”

“Katara…”

“Zuko, you said you regretted making my choice for me, right? Please believe me when I say I forgive you. You can’t force me to stay mad at you when you’ve more than proven yourself to me.”

Zuko draws a shaky breath.

“Okay,” he concedes. “Maybe I can make you dinner once I have my own apartment all settled?”

“We can cook together!” Katara says eagerly. “Just like the old days.”

“Sure,” he says with a shy smile. “But I know you’re busy and have to study a lot. I don’t mind cooking.”

“I can take a break for you,” she says, returning his smile.

Katara takes him home after their dinner, and Zuko feels both elated and anxious. He is happy things are going so well, but as much as he has worked on silencing his more negative thoughts, they tend to crop up anytime something potentially good happens in his life.

Zuko decides the best course of action is to play it cool. This is decidedly not one of his strengths, so he texts Azula.

Zuko: Don’t laugh (8:57PM)

Azula: ?? (9:06PM)

Zuko: I need your help (9:07PM)

Azula: Unplug it and then plug it back in again (9:07PM)

Zuko: ? (9:08PM)

Azula: That advice works about 70% of the time, but given your apparent confusion, I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific on what kind of help you need (9:09PM)

Zuko: How did you ask Ty Lee out after you guys fought? (9:09PM)

Azula: Zuzu, did you FINALLY man up and tell that Krystal girl how you feel? (9:10PM)

Zuko: It’s KATARA and no, not yet. I’m trying to be cool about it. (9:11PM)

Zuko: Which is why I need your advice 9:11PM)

Azula: That’s the wrong strategy (9:12PM)

Azula: And it’s not how I got Ty Lee to go out with me (9:12PM)

Zuko: Okay, then what do I do? (9:12PM)

Azula: Actually, Zuzu, you’re better suited to solve this than me (9:13PM)

Azula: Women like it when you tell them how you feel. You know, mushy stuff. (9:13PM)

Azula: It’s revolting, frankly. (9:13PM)

Zuko: So you just told Ty Lee you liked her? (9:14PM)

Azula: Yes (9:15PM)

Azula: In my experience, it helps to add the length of time you’ve had feelings for them, especially if it’s been ages. That really makes them swoon. (9:15PM)

Zuko: You say that like it’s not something that would work on you (9:16PM)

Azula: God, no (9:16PM)

Azula: If Ty Lee had just showed up at my place half-naked, that would have been more than sufficient to win me over. (9:17PM)

Azula: Speaking of which, Ty Lee just got here, so you’re going to have to solve your problems on your own. (9:17PM)

Zuko: WAY too much information, Azula (9:18PM)

Azula: Just tell her how you feel, dumb dumb. You’ve really got nothing to lose here. (9:19PM)

Zuko wants to disagree, but he figures he should leave Azula alone. He is glad his sister seems to be in a good relationship, and he really doesn’t want any more details.

Zuko busies himself over the next week adjusting to his new job and settling into a new apartment. He carefully selects one that is just over a mile from Katara’s place and the following Sunday, he tells her his address as they dine on fish tacos.

“Oh, it’s too bad you’re kind of far away,” she laments. “But it’s a really nice area.”

“Katara, it’s a twenty minute walk.”

“Oh, Zuko, you sweet, summer child. Wait until December and you’ll realize that twenty minutes outside is way longer than you want it to be.”

Zuko feels warm at the idea that they will still be friends six months from now.

“It’s okay though,” Katara continues. “By that time of year, I’ll have finals to study for anyway. Can’t be spending forty minutes schlepping back and forth from your apartment.”

Zuko mulls this over the rest of the evening. He decides it might be in his best interest to make his apartment more appealing for Katara to spend time there.

Before he gets the opportunity to invite her over, Katara and her roommate throw a house party to celebrate her roommate’s birthday. Zuko arrives precisely on time, which is a good half-hour before anyone else shows up.

“I forgot how punctual you are,” Katara smirks.

“You were the one who said eight-thirty!”

“I know, but everyone knows that means nine.”

“I can leave.”

“I’m just teasing, Zuko. C’mon, you can help me put the finishing touches on Yue’s cake.”

The birthday girl in question is still in the middle of creating an elaborate hairdo, but she seems unperturbed by Zuko’s arrival.

“You must be Zuko,” she says kindly. “It’s nice to meet you. Katara has told me such nice things about you.”

Zuko’s stomach flips at the slight flush on Katara’s face at these words.

“Happy birthday,” he tells Yue. “I wasn’t sure what to bring, so…”

He holds up a bottle of whiskey. Yue grins.

“Thank you. I’m sure we’ll put it to good use.”

Zuko turns to put it away and notices that Yue is still staring at him. He shoots Katara a look out of the corner of his eye.

“Yue, snap out of it,” Katara says sternly.

“Sorry,” Yue says, unflustered by Katara’s chastising. “I was just thinking…”

“Don’t.”

Katara has a stubborn look on her face, her arms folded angrily in front of her. Zuko looks between the two of them, absolutely baffled.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks nervously.

“No, it’s my fault,” Yue responds, still eyeing Zuko. “I want to be a dermatologist. I’ve never seen an injury quite like yours though. It’s an interesting case study.”

“Zuko isn’t a case study!” Katara snaps.

“It’s okay,” Zuko says quickly. He doesn’t like how Yue is looking at him, but he feels even more awkward being the subject of a fight between her and Katara.

“You say that now,” Katara huffs. “Just wait until all her derm friends show up.”

“You’re right, Katara,” Yue says graciously. “Zuko, I apologize. I was being rude. I’ll make sure my friends don’t say anything to you. You’re not our patient.”

“No, he’s not,” Katara says icily. “He’s my friend. Come on, Zuko. We’ve got to finish the cake.”

Zuko follows Katara into the kitchen, feeling wrong-footed.

“I didn’t mean to cause problems with your roommate,” he whispers as Katara angrily opens the cabinets.

Katara’s annoyance seems to fade as she turns to look at Zuko.

“You didn’t,” she says. “Sorry, I just get kind of defensive.”

Zuko’s confusion must show on his face, because Katara gives him a rueful smile and continues.

“I know you’re shy around new people. I just want people to be nice to you.”

Zuko’s chest feels tight with longing.

“You’re nice to me,” he says at length. “Who cares about everyone else?”

“You care, Zuko,” Katara points out.

“Eh,” he says with a shrug. “Even if everyone at this party spends the whole time diagnosing me, it’s still worth it to hang out with you.”

Katara gives him an evaluating look, but before she can say anything, Yue appears in the kitchen.

“How do I look?”

Zuko can see why Yue wants to be a dermatologist. He had met a few in the hospital, and all of them had glowing, luminous skin. Yue’s blue eyes and bone-white bleached hair only accentuate it.

“Great!” Katara says with genuine enthusiasm. Her annoyance at Yue’s earlier behavior seems to have evaporated. Both of them turn to look at Zuko, who is immediately flustered.

“Uh, cool dress,” he says uncomfortably. “The pattern looks like phases of the moon.”

“It is!” Yue says excitedly. “And look!”

She hits the light switch and little crescents light up all over the fabric. Zuko wasn’t aware that they made glow-in-the-dark fabrics for adults.

“Oh yeah, Yue is a real dork,” Katara says with a grin as she turns the light back on. “And you thought I was a nerd.”

“I was president of the astronomy club at my college,” Yue says happily. “I actually wanted to be an astronomer for a long time, but medicine called to me more.”

“Oh, is that your giant telescope in the living room?” Zuko asks.

“Birthday present to myself,” Yue beams.

Guests start to arrive as Zuko helps Katara put the finishing touches on the cake. It does not escape his attention that Katara could easily manage this task on her own, but he appreciates that it gives her an excuse to stick by his side for the first twenty minutes or so. Katara introduces Zuko to everyone, and when they try to pull her away in conversation, she waves them off to finish her task first.

“I don’t mind finishing it,” Zuko says after the fifth friend has been rebuffed.

“Oh, I’d rather be in here with you,” Katara says. “I mean, I like everyone here, but we tend to talk about school a lot, and I don’t want you to be left out before people get to know you.”

Zuko wants to tell her that he can look out for himself, but he is grateful for her help. By the time they are finished, most of the guests have arrived and seem to have gotten some of their shop talk out of their system.

Katara does get pulled away from him eventually, but he manages to make some not-excruciating small talk about the North Pole with some of Yue’s friends. They get into a heated debate about which hot pot restaurants are the best, and Zuko briefly tunes them out to watch Katara across the room.

He goes to refill his drink in the kitchen where he senses questioning eyes on him.

“Uh, hi,” he says to the three women huddled next to the bar. “I’m Zuko, Katara’s friend.”

“Is that an acid burn?”

Zuko unconsciously ducks his head.

“Uh, yeah,” he croaks.

“Accident?” one woman inquires.

“It’s not over your eye — were you in a lab? Safety goggles?”

“It looks pretty well-treated, actually. You must have gotten under water pretty quickly.”

Zuko is frozen in shock. It’s one thing to have a stranger stare at him, but being asked probing questions is quite another. He doesn’t have much experience answering people’s questions about his injury, and he’s caught off guard. The three women scrutinize him, waiting for his response.

Katara chooses that precise moment to enter the kitchen. Her lips purse as she takes in the scene.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

“Oh, we were just asking your friend about his scar,” one of the women says nonchalantly.

Katara’s eyes go black. Zuko moves quickly across the kitchen to grab her arm.

“Nice meeting you,” he says unconvincingly.

“Hang on!” Katara spits as he drags her away. “They were being rude to you! They should apologize!”

“Leave it, Katara.”

“But—”

“Leave it,” Zuko repeats wearily.

Katara looks torn.

“I still need a refill,” she says finally.

Zuko lets her go, his stomach clenching in knots. A part of him likes the idea of Katara defending his honor, but he really doesn’t want to cause trouble.

Katara returns a minute later, looking smug. Zuko’s stomach sinks.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

“Katara…”

“Fine,” she sighs. “I…. may have started a rumor.”

“A rumor? About what?”

“Dermatology is super competitive. People get crazy about it, and I happen to know that all three of them want a spot for residency here someday. So I may have told them I overheard the dean of medicine lamenting that they were only going to have two spots in derm available in the coming years, and they may have started freaking out about it.”

Zuko laughs.

“Psychological warfare, Katara?”

“They deserve it,” she says adamantly. “Besides, you didn’t want me to tell them off for being jerks, so I had to result to alternative measures.”

Zuko smirks and raises his cup to clink with hers. Katara looks satisfied and sips her drink.

The rest of the party is fairly uneventful, but Zuko does notice something interesting. When he is speaking to other people around the room, he spots Katara watching him. At first, he thinks it is her protective instincts again; the three future-dermatologists leave the party early, but there are still plenty of new people who give his scar curious looks. Zuko is amused to discover that many of Katara’s classmates are even more socially awkward than he is, so he feels surprisingly comfortable talking to them once they get over their initial staring phase. And yet Katara continues to watch him all night, and whenever he catches her, she just smiles. It makes him feel slightly giddy.

Zuko is the last to leave, as he insists that he help clean up. Katara shoos Yue off to bed — it’s your birthday, don’t worry about it — and she and Zuko round up stray cups and bottles from around the apartment. Katara’s face is slightly flushed from alcohol; Zuko knows he must be quite red as well. Katara keeps shooting him glances and giggling. He has no idea what to make of this, but it only increases the giddiness he feels.

When he leaves, Katara pulls him into a tight hug.

“Mmm,” she says sleepily. “You still smell amazing.”

“So do you,” Zuko says before he can stop himself.

Katara seems unphased by this admission and buries her face in his shirt.

“It’s so nice to have you around again,” she continues. “Thanks for coming to the party. I like spending time with you.”

Zuko takes advantage of his liquid courage.

“Are you busy tomorrow night?”

Katara pulls a face.

“We have this stupid mandatory meeting,” she pouts.

“On a Sunday night?”

“I know! Med school is so dumb sometimes.”

“It’s okay,” he says, trying not to lose his momentum. “Next Sunday? I want to make you dinner.”

“Oh!” Katara says, beaming up at him. She still hasn’t broken the hug, and to see her encircled in his arms, smiling happily, is almost too good to be true. “I’d love to have dinner with you.”

“Then it’s a date.”

Katara does not comment on this word choice, but moves even closer to give him another squeeze. Zuko wonders if she can feel his heart racing.

“Can’t wait,” she says, pulling away with a yawn.

Zuko steps out into the hall and waves goodbye. He spends twenty minute-walk back to his apartment whistling happily.

Even though Katara is kept busy until their dinner date, she and Zuko stay in touch over text. Zuko tries testing the waters: a compliment here, an ‘I miss you’ there. Katara responds positively to all of these cues. Zuko knows he has a hard time recognizing when someone returns his feelings — after all, he has felt very unworthy of anyone’s attention for most of his life — but he doesn’t think he’s imagining things. He even goes so far as to send a picture of his face to Katara when he is contemplating a new pair of sunglasses.

Katara: 🤩🤩🤩 You look amazing! Saving this one. (3:17PM)

This helps Zuko in two ways: first, it provides even more evidence that Katara might actually like him back. Second, it makes him feel less guilty that he has saved one or two photos Katara has sent him before. Sometimes it was nice to see her smiling up at him from the screen of his phone.

Zuko’s apartment is a small one-bedroom, but he has done his best to make it nice. Katara arrives for their dinner and smiles when she sees the framed picture of his mother on the wall.

“Not covering up any holes this time?” she jokes.

She turns to look at the rest of the living room and freezes.

In the corner, Zuko has set up a small desk. He has taken great care to arrange a bouquet of highlighters, several pads of sticky notes, an angled reading lamp, and a dozen of Katara’s favored multi-colored pens. It is a perfect emulation of Katara’s study bunker, right down to the calendar pinned above it. Zuko had gotten it at a fraction of the price given that it was already August, but he was quite fond of the goofy photo of ducklings clambering on top of a resting turtle.

Katara whirls around the face him.

“You told me you thought highlighters were pointless,” she says questioningly.

“Yeah, I never liked them much,” he admits. “But they’re not for me. That’s your desk.”

“My desk?”

“Yeah, you said I lived too far away for you to come visit often in winter. I figured if you had a desk here, maybe you could study in the afternoon and then we could have dinner together? That way it wouldn’t mess up your study habits to come over.”

Katara stares at him for a moment before reaching out to grab his shirt. She reels him in like she had for their very first kiss, and Zuko doesn’t hesitate.

He hasn’t kissed anyone since his injury, and he hadn’t anticipated the difference. The numbed nerves of his skin send weak and confused signals to his brain, unsure if this pressure is painful or not. Thankfully, Zuko’s other senses go into overdrive, and it’s easy to ignore this unusual sensation.

Katara steps back all too soon, staring at Zuko with wide eyes.

“I meant to have a conversation with you before doing that,” she admits.

“A conversation?”

“Yes. To tell you I liked you and ask you if you liked me. It seems like you do.”

“Yes,” Zuko blurts. “Honestly, I never stopped liking you. I was in love with you, actually.”

Katara’s head rears backwards, looking as if Zuko had slapped her.

“You were in love with me?”

Zuko’s heart drops. He had wanted to reveal this a bit more cautiously.

“Uh, yeah. But I know I was just a rebound for you, and —“

“A rebound? Who said I thought you were a rebound?” Katara asks sharply.

Zuko frowns.

“I mean, no one said that, but I was, wasn’t I? You had just broken up with Aang and…”

“Zuko, I really liked you a lot. It wasn’t just a rebound to me.”

“Really?”

Katara crosses her arms, looking annoyed.

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“No,” he admits. “I just… I guess I never thought you’d want to be with me as more than that.”

“That’s because you had the self-confidence of a potted plant.”

Zuko glowers at her, mirroring her crossed arms.

“Hey, I’ve worked really hard on that!”

“I know,” Katara says abandoning her defensive stance. “I didn’t mean it like that. You should be really proud of yourself. After everything you went through… I didn’t realize then how bad things were for you.”

“Well,” Zuko says uneasily, dropping his arms. “It’s not like I told you very much. How were you supposed to know?”

“That’s why it’s been so nice to talk to you —really talk to you — this past year. When we were together… I mean, I knew you liked me a little, but I had no idea you…”

“To be fair,” Zuko says quickly, “I didn’t realize until like a year afterwards.”

Katara seems bemused by this and moves to wrap Zuko in a hug.

“We really made a mess of things, didn’t we?”

“It’s my fault,” Zuko says sadly. “I should have —“

“Don’t,” Katara cuts him off. “It’s okay. I think we ended up in the right place.”

Zuko pulls back to stare down at her. His heart hammers against his ribs.

“What do you want, Katara?”

“To be with you,” she says plainly. “You?”

“To be with you,” he echoes.

They stare at each other for a long moment, grins widening on their faces.

“You said you made dinner, right?” Katara asks at length.

“Yeah,” Zuko confirms. “I just need to heat it back up and —“

“Do you want to take things slow?” Katara interrupts.

“Uh, what?’

“Between us,” she clarifies. “Are we taking things slow?”

“Uh, if you want?”

“I asked what you wanted, Zuko.”

“Oh. Uh,” he stammers, feeling slightly dazed by the intensity on her face. “I mean, I don’t want to rush things if you don’t. But, uh… I think you’re beautiful and incredible, and I would let you do literally anything to me, and…”

Katara cuts him off with a searing kiss. Zuko wastes no time in responding.

The steps to this dance are both familiar and exhilarating. Zuko has relived his past trysts with Katara over and over in his head, but they cannot hold a candle to the reality. Her skin is smooth and supple beneath his hands, warm and inviting. There is the same intoxicating scent that drives him crazy, and the little happy sighs Katara keeps letting out make his blood thrum with excitement.

The first time she brings up her hand to touch his face, he flinches out of habit. Katara’s eyes widen, lips parted to apologize, but Zuko swoops in to kiss her first.

“Force of habit,” he says as he pulls away. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Zuko…”

“Seriously, it’s fine,” he says quickly. “I’m not just saying that.”

Katara looks slightly doubtful, but hesitantly presses her hand to his cheek. When he doesn’t pull away, she strokes her thumb over the uneven surface. Zuko closes his eyes briefly; he’s not sure what to make of the expression on Katara’s face — pity? Regret? Revulsion? — and it makes him feel self-conscious.

“Am I hurting you?” she asks gently.

“No. It does feel kind of weird,” he admits. “But not in a bad way. Kind of like when you go to the dentist and they give you novocaine.”

Katara nods.

“Okay,” she says, seeming resolved. “You can tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

Katara smiles and presses her lips to his scarred face. His heart twists, wishing more than anything he could feel it properly. She pulls away to kiss his other cheek, and then his lips. Her eyes shine as she stares up at him, and his insecurity ebbs away slowly. He pulls her into a soft kiss and they stand entwined for a long moment.

The kiss begins to heat, simmering and bubbling until both of them are panting slightly. Zuko can’t quite keep track of when or how their clothing starts to disappear, but by the time they make it into his bedroom, neither of them are clothed at all anymore. He’s grateful that he had the foresight to make his room somewhat presentable. He hadn’t planned on this exactly, but he had hoped if things went well they would at least make out on his bed for a while.

Fortunately, someone else had been even more optimistic about Zuko’s chances with Katara. In the time since Zuko had texted his sister, a package had arrived at his apartment with a card that read ‘Congratulations from Azula and Ty Lee.’ Enclosed was a box of condoms. Zuko had been horribly embarrassed, and was perhaps more embarrassed now that they might actually come in useful. He had assumed that Azula’s congratulatory message had been sarcastic, but he was fairly certain Ty Lee had been genuine — she had texted him eagerly the next day to enquire as to the status of his aura.

Zuko wasn’t quite sure what one’s aura looked like when they were ridiculously happy and hopelessly in love, but that was what he assumed his would be at the moment. The smirk Katara was giving him made him feel rather punch-drunk.

It’s just like he remembers with Katara. Better, even, because now he does not have to temper just how much he joy feels. He had been happy before when he had been with Katara, but he had always reminded himself what it was between them — a fun rebound, short and sweet. It felt slightly terrifying to leap into bed with her having let slip that he had been in love with her, but she had not pushed him away. In fact, she was rather insistently pulling him towards her, moaning in approval as he tasted her.

When she manages to catch her breath, Katara returns the favor, whispering in his ear as she toys with him. He can hardly speak, enthralled by her touch and her words.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” she purrs as her hands roam his body. “I wanted to kiss you all night at that party. When you left, I went to my room and I —“

Zuko groans as Katara paints him a picture, giving him a wicked grin as he twitches under her ministrations. Before long, they break apart so Zuko can hastily dig under his bed for the package of condoms. Katara waits eagerly until he is pressed inside her, and for a moment they lie still, hands softly tracing one another.

“I missed you,” Katara whispers. “Even when I was mad at you, I really missed this.”

Zuko nods weakly, emotions too powerful to name stirring within him.

“Hey, we’re going to do it right this time, okay?” Katara says gently. “I’m not letting you run away from me.”

This seems like sort of a weird time to have this conversation, but he’s grateful nevertheless. The last tendrils of doubt in him wither, and he presses a soft kiss to Katara’s neck.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he rasps.

“Good,” Katara says, looking satisfied. “Now please fuck me before I explode.”

Zuko gives a snort of laughter and Katara giggles. It takes a moment for the haze of lust to return, but Zuko likes it when Katara makes him laugh first. It makes it all the better when her smile melts into raw need. He works his hips at the angle he knows she likes best, rewarded by the trembling of her legs as she comes.

They have just enough willpower to clean themselves up properly after before they collapse back into the bed. Katara snuggles up against him and Zuko can feel his heart squeeze tightly. He strokes her hair and tries not to be too obvious about smelling it; he’s not sure if hair-smelling is romantic or weird, but she always smells so good after sex.

“So,” Katara says finally. “What’s for dinner? I forgot to ask.”

“Chashu ramen.”

“From scratch?” Katara asks, astounded.

“Yes.”

“Zuko, that must have taken you ages!”

Zuko shrugs.

“Yeah, but it makes a lot of broth, so we’ll have plenty of leftovers. I used to make a batch once a month when I lived with uncle Iroh.”

While it is true that Zuko is used to putting in the time to make all the requisite marinades and broth required, he omits the fact that it had, indeed, been a lot of work. Even when he made it for uncle Iroh and himself, it was usually when he was feeling stressed and wanted some sort of creative outlet. It was always nice to feel like he had accomplished something, even it was as simple as a soft-boiled egg. It had been a bit tricky to schedule his cooking during the week with his new job, but Zuko had wanted to pull out all the stops for his dinner with Katara.

Katara steals his one pair of sweatpants, so he cooks the noodles in his boxers while Katara chops up scallions as a topping. Katara is in charge of artfully assembling their bowls once everything is heated. This had always been Iroh’s job — Iroh had insisted that a person ate with their eyes first, while Zuko had always been prone to just dumping everything together and calling it a day. He can’t argue with the result though — Katara’s presentation makes Zuko feel especially proud of his efforts.

As they eat, Katara asks for details about each item — how it was seasoned and prepared — and for a moment Zuko is transported back to their early friendship, where food was a prelude to deeper discussion. Their conversation feeds him in a way that even the ramen cannot.

Once they are full and groaning slightly from the amount of food sloshing around their bellies, they move to the small living room and flop on either ends of the couch.

“Now what?” Zuko wonders aloud.

“Are we dating now?” Katara adds.

“I hope so,” Zuko blurts.

Katara peers at him over their tangle of legs, smiling.

“Okay, then.”

There is a pause for a moment before Zuko cannot resist letting slip:

“Is it really that easy?”

Katara snorts.

“I wouldn’t exactly call this easy, Zuko. We didn’t talk for a year, and then we had to work back up to actually, you know, being in the same place.”

“…That’s fair.”

“But I’m happy with how things turned out,” Katara finishes with a smile. “You?”

“Yeah,” Zuko says with a sigh. “Yeah, really happy.”

Chapter Text

It’s three in the morning when Katara catches him in the kitchen making peanut sauce.

“I don’t think I made enough,” Zuko says as Katara glares at him, bleary-eyed. “And Sokka will probably contaminate at least one batch with a spoon that touched meat, so I should make a second one for Aang.”

“Yes,” Katara says testily. “But perhaps it can wait until, oh, I don’t know, the sun has risen?”

Zuko hesitates, still clutching a bottle of rice vinegar. Katara sighs.

“I know you’re stressed, and I promise I’ll help you in the morning, okay? You’ll have plenty of time before our guests arrive.”

“Technically our guests are already here,” he points out.

“Yes,” Katara agrees. “And they probably don’t want to be woken up by you making condiments at three in the morning.”

This is enough to convince Zuko to put aside his ingredients, although he’s doubtful about getting back to sleep. He knows the stakes for this party are relatively low, but in the middle of the night, everything feels quite dire.

The party in question was a housewarming for Katara and Zuko now that they had moved to the South Pole for Katara’s residency in emergency medicine. Aang and Toph had flown in from Republic City and Ba Sing Se respectively the night before, and together they were intending to spend a week of vacation before Katara and Zuko started their new jobs. They would be joined by Sokka and Suki, who were in town from Kyoshi and staying nearby with Katara’s father. The presence of Zuko’s friends wasn’t what was making him nervous, however.

Zuko had not actually expected that his uncle would want to visit him so soon after his arrival at the South Pole, mainly because Iroh rarely liked to leave behind his tea shops. But Iroh had been delighted at the invitation, and he had insisted on staying at a nearby bed and breakfast to give Zuko and Katara their privacy.

“A young couple in a new home should be given plenty of private time,” Iroh had said sagely over the phone. Zuko had stuttered and blushed — after three years, he would hardly consider himself and Katara a new couple, but his uncle had been adamant.

Zuko was excited to see his uncle, but his stomach twisted itself into knots at the prospect of Iroh meeting Katara’s father. Hakoda had always been polite and welcoming to Zuko, but Zuko had not quite relaxed around him yet. He had only met Hakoda twice before moving to the South Pole, and even though Katara was constantly trying to reassure him that Hakoda liked him just fine, Zuko just couldn’t shake his unease. He knew it had nothing to do with Hakoda and everything to do with Ozai. His last few therapy sessions had been deeper dives into father issues, and while it certainly helped, it still didn’t erase the fear of judgement. Iroh and Hakoda meeting was a strange father-figure showdown, and Zuko did not quite know how he would feel if they did not get along. Zuko was planning on being with Katara for a very long time, so it felt critical that this party went well.

He follows Katara back to their bedroom, tiptoeing past the guest room where Aang and Toph are staying for the week. Although he is convinced that sleep will elude him, he eventually drifts off. His midnight interlude of panic causes him to sleep in late, and when he finally rouses himself, he immediately starts a mental calculation of all his tasks for the day.

“Morning,” Katara says sleepily from his side.

She is curled under the thick duvet she prefers, while Zuko is tangled in a thin bedsheet. They discovered early in their relationship that a two-blanket system was best for their wildly different sleeping styles. Katara strips off the blanket to crawl on top of him fully naked. This is not entirely unexpected — both of them usually sleep this way — but when there are guests, they try to at least have a basic layer on just in case.

Zuko certainly isn’t complaining about the view, and he stares as Katara slowly unravels her braid. Her long hair tumbles over her shoulders as she leans over him. Zuko draws a deep breath, inhaling her scent.

“You’re trying to distract me,” he rasps, running a hand up the line of her back.

“Mmm,” Katara hums in agreement. “Is it working?”

“Yes.”

Katara presses a kiss to his lips that makes his heart race. He makes quick work of his sheet and boxers, rolling around in the bed as Katara switches positions. Zuko’s brain buzzes with excitement — Katara on all fours, Katara on her back, Katara, Katara, Katara — and a quarter of an hour later, they are both boneless and limp on the mattress. If someone had asked him, he was not sure he could accurately state what day it was anymore, let alone what dishes he had left to make.

When they collect themselves and dress somewhat presentably, they walk out together to find Toph perched atop a barstool in the kitchen.

“Good morning, Toph,” Katara says warmly. “Would you like some tea?”

“Only if you’ve got the good stuff,” Toph says with a grin.

“Zuko’s uncle sends us loads,” Katara replies, pulling tins out of the cabinet. “Ginseng? Jasmine? Oolong?”

“Whatever is strongest.”

“Oh, did you not sleep well?” Katara asks, concerned. “I hope it wasn’t the bed. We just got that mattress last week and I wasn’t sure—“

“Nah,” Toph says easily. “Twinkletoes went on a run earlier but he couldn’t find his headphones. I don’t know what his runnings shorts are made out of, but man, that fabric is loud. Not as loud as you guys though.”

Katara and Zuko redden. Toph snorts at their stammering.

“I’m just messing with you,” she adds. “Besides, I’ve got these.”

Toph holds up a large pair of noise-canceling headphones. Before Katara or Zuko can think of something to say, the front door opens and Aang steps inside.

“Hi guys!” he says enthusiastically. “Perfect day outside. Your neighborhood has a really cool park, too. I saw like twenty dogs this morning!”

“Cool shorts, Aang,” Katara says with a smile.

Zuko bites back his laughter. The fabric is even louder than Toph had claimed — neon orange with shiny blue arrows running up the sides, swishing noisily as Aang moves to get himself a glass of water.

“Thanks!” Aang says. “And they’re reflective, too, so it’s safe in the dark!”

Zuko tunes out most of the morning chatter as he focuses on making the eggs. The haze of sex is rapidly evaporating as he calculates when he needs to start prepping for the party. The sheer number of tasks is beginning to overwhelm him when Aang’s voice cuts in.

“Hey, Zuko, when do you need us to help with party stuff?”

“Uh, what?”

Aang points to the list affixed to the fridge with a magnet.

“I can help with the spring rolls after I take a shower.”

“Oh,” Zuko says, surprised. “You don’t have to help. You’re our guests.”

“You’re letting us crash for free for a whole week!” Aang says with a smile. “Of course we’ll help!”

“Speak for yourself,” Toph says over her tea. “I’m on vacation.”

“Well, I wanna learn how to make those veggie spring rolls,” Aang continues. “I can help out with those. Oh, and peanut sauce, too!”

Aang springs up to take his shower, and Katara leans over to kiss Zuko on the cheek.

“Told you we could get everything done in the morning,” she says with a smirk.

The work does go by quickly with more hands. Katara and Aang assemble spring rolls in the kitchen while Zuko fires up the grill outside to cook the pork belly he has been marinating overnight. Toph lounges on a deck chair nearby to keep him company. Focusing on the meat and Toph’s jokes helps keep his anxiety at bay for a while.

Before the party begins, Zuko sets out to pick up uncle Iroh. He allots an hour to this task even though the inn is only a five minute drive away. As he expects, Iroh insists on sharing tea together before they depart, which gives Iroh the opportunity to introduce Zuko to everyone who wanders through the lobby. Iroh had been in the South Pole for all of twenty-four hours and he had already learned everyone’s names, including the neighborhood cat who slept on the porch. Zuko is slightly embarrassed by the attention — almost everyone Iroh greets responds with a ‘so this is the nephew you are visiting!’ — but there is a warm pride underneath it. His uncle’s approval means more than Zuko could ever say.

Zuko had not planned on having quite so many people come to town for the housewarming party. After all, it wasn’t like they even owned the house — they were just renting it at the moment, although Zuko’s recent promotion and cheap South Pole real estate meant that perhaps someday they could afford a place of their own. At any rate, it had been a while since they had seen their friends, and the timing had worked out favorably. The housewarming was really just an excuse to see everyone. Zuko had debated for a while before inviting Azula as well, but she had demurred.

Azula: Can’t, sorry. Taking Ty Lee to Ember Island for the weekend and I’ve got big plans (8:57PM)

Attached had been a picture of a stunning ring, a drop of pink tourmaline with shimmering diamonds encircling it. Zuko didn’t know anything about jewelry, but he was certain of two things: first, that the ring had been exorbitantly expensive, and second, that Ty Lee would absolutely love it.

Zuko: Wow, Azula, that’s amazing. Congratulations (8:59PM)

Azula: She hasn’t said yes yet (9:00PM)

Zuko: She will. (9:00PM)

Zuko: I’m really happy for you (9:01PM)

Azula: Thanks, Zuzu. (9:01PM)

When Zuko had relayed this conversation to Katara, she had been positively buzzing with excitement. Zuko knew that Katara still held a bit of grudge against his sister; in trying to work past the competitive relationship he had once had with Azula, there had been plenty of growing pains that Katara had heard about. Still, Katara was a sucker for a good love story and loved any opportunity to dress up. She was already saving space on the fridge for a future wedding invitation.

By the time Zuko and Iroh arrive back at the house, Zuko’s stomach is roiling again. Iroh seems to sense his anxiety and places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Zuko takes a deep breath and they leave the car.

Hakoda’s truck is parked out front, and Zuko can hear Sokka’s laughter echoing through the house as he walks through the door. He gives Iroh a perfunctory tour — slightly unnecessary given how small the house is — but he delays for as long as he can. Iroh is patient, asking polite questions and commenting on the limited decor, but eventually the moment cannot be put off any longer. Zuko leads Iroh out onto the small brick patio in the backyard where the rest of the party has gathered.

“Zuko!” Sokka roars. “Good to see you man!”

Sokka gives him a resounding slap on the back that shakes some of Zuko’s tension away. Suki rolls her eyes fondly at Sokka’s exuberance and steps in to give Zuko a hug. He’s distracted from his initial mission at introducing Iroh and Hakoda as Sokka pulls him over to the table of food.

“Zuko, this is the best lemongrass pork I’ve had in my life,” Sokka says seriously. “And this peanut sauce? Straight fire.”

“Thanks,” Zuko says with a laugh. “I can give you the recipe.”

“Better send it to Suki,” Sokka says, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m banned from the kitchen for the next month.”

“What did you do?”

“He got drunk and tried to microwave an egg,” Suki says with a smirk.

“…With the shell still on?”

“How was I supposed to know it would explode?” Sokka protests.

“Common sense?” Zuko offers.

“You’re a literal rocket scientist now, Sokka,” Suki teases. “Aren’t you supposed to assume most stuff will blow up?”

“Not eggs!”

Sokka piles up another plate of food and stalks off, looking offended.

“Don’t worry,” Suki says, catching Zuko’s gaze. “He just thinks if he guilt trips you for laughing at him you’ll send him home with leftovers.”

“You guys are going to be here all week. I can just make it again.”

“Yeah, but Sokka already said this would make — and I quote — ‘the perfect mid-midnight snack.”

“Mid-midnight?”

“Sokka strongly believes that two post-dinner snacks are needed before breakfast.”

“I can’t believe you agreed to marry him.”

“Yeah,” Suki says with a grin. “Best decision I ever made.”

Zuko realizes with a jolt that he has completely forgotten about his uncle, but he sees that Katara has already made the introduction with her father. Iroh and Hakoda are in deep discussion, and Zuko wonders whether he should step in to not.

“Relax,” Katara whispers in his ear. “I told my dad Iroh is the one who makes the tea we gave him for Christmas and now they’re getting along great.”

Zuko turns to face Katara, who winds an arm around his waist. Her eyes shine as she smiles up at him. He feels his heart swell in his chest. He presses a kiss to her temple.

“Thanks,” he whispers. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Oh, you’d be fine,” Katara says with confidence. “But it’s more fun together, isn’t it?”

Zuko smiles.

“Yeah, it is.”