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When Zuko did realize his uncle was there, he suppressed a smile that had grown over his relaxed face. “Are you hungry?”
Iroh blinked only once at the young man, taking note of the patch of flour clinging to the boys face. “It smells lovely. What did you make?”
Zuko didn’t give an answer, just grabbed a bowl, heaping a large amount of the steamed rice cakes into the bowl. He ladled some slightly orange sauce over the noddles. Iroh took the bowl, and the chopsticks offered. There wasn’t a dinning area in the cramped space, only a sturdy coffee table which worked well enough for dinners.
As Zuko joined him for the meal, Iroh chose not to bring attention to some of the things he was starting to notice about the apartment. The floor had been swept and mopped. The dishes were no longer building in the sink. Freshly cleaned laundry had been folded and were placed in baskets. The meal tasted good. Judging from the way Zuko refused to look up from his own bowl of spiced noddles, Iroh understood it might not be the best move to acknowledge the little things Zuko had done while he’d been out.
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Zuko started cooking in Ba Sing Se, he kept cooking after leaving the city