Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Azula had a secret.

Well, Zuko had a secret. Azula's secret was that she knew Zuko's secret, and keeping that a secret was just as important as Zuko keeping his secret.

Azula was observant. Azula was cunning. Azula was much smarter than her not-so-subtle lovesick brother. She didn't know when it had started, but it couldn't have been long before she figured it out. Thankfully, Zuko was smart enough to keep his distance while Father was around. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd seen Father, Zuko, and Sokka all in the same room; Zuko would rush Sokka out the door before that happened. 

Zuko did not follow the same practice around her. A foolish move, really, trusting she wouldn't realize the true nature of their relationship when Zuko is literally draped over Sokka on the couch every time he comes over. Or holed up in his room. Azula had half a mind to snitch simply to punish him for his carelessness. 

But Azula does not snitch; instead, she finds herself getting wrapped up in the lie in an attempt to cover for her idiot brother.

"Where is your brother?" Ozai will ask, frowning as he notices Zuko's empty chair at the dinner table.

"With Mai. I think they're on a date, but Zuko wouldn't tell me." Zuko is, of course, not on a date with Mai. He is, as he is found to be more and more often, with Sokka. Whether they're on a date or just at Sokka's house, Zuko is absent from their home more often than not.

Then, Ozai will always grunt and say something about how "Mai should be a good influence on that good-for-nothing boy." Azula will restrain from rolling her eyes. It's a difficult task.

Azula is not sure why she's doing this. If her father found out what Zuko was doing (or, more specifically, who Zuko was doing), he'd be out of the picture, leaving Azula as the sole heir to the Keohso fortune.

Leaving Azula.

Azula shut down that train of thought real fast.

Azula was tough. Azula was a badass and she did not need her older brother to look after her.

Zuko, however, was a dumbass who definitely needed Azula to look after him. And maybe Azula did care about her brother, just a little. After all, if their father would scar him that badly for protesting the less-than-honorable way they make money at the naive age of 13, who knew what would happen if he found out his 18-year-old disappointment was gay?

Azula would not let that happen. So, Azula lies, and what else is new. She lied to Mother when she told her Zuko really had just fallen down the porch steps on his own. She lied to her teacher when she said she'd try harder to be "civil." She lied to her father when she agreed that Uncle was a disgrace to their family name. She lied to Zuko when she said she didn't miss Mother. Azula always lies. It's her defining trait to those that know her best (those that don't never know she's lying). Who would she be if she didn't?

Zuko never lies. That's why Azula has never spoken to him directly about his secret. She doesn't know what she'd do if it were confirmed. Zuko never lying means Azula just has to lie more to make up for his inadequacy, which she has no moral qualms with. Azula doesn't tend to have moral qualms at all.

It's Saturday and her idiot brother is off gallivanting with his crew of merry friends. That's one thing Azula will never understand about Zuko-- why on Earth does he need so many friends? Azula has one (two if you count Zuko. Ew, wait, Zuko was her brother, definitely not her friend, nevermind) and that's more than enough for her. Ty Lee has the energy level of every member of his stupid Gaang combined.

Azula doesn't like to be in the house alone. She can be-- she's not needy or anything. Just would prefer not to. 

Right. Anyway.

When Zuko is out, Azula brings Ty Lee over. She does not invite her so much as drives to her house and kidnaps her, but Ty Lee has never complained. Not that Azula has heard Ty Lee complain about anything, ever. Anyway, her house is so crowded, with six siblings and a mother all crammed in a one-story house, Ty Lee is always anxious to leave-- even though she loves her family to a level Azula cannot comprehend. 

It's Saturday and her idiot brother isn't here, so Ty Lee is. Zuko jokes that they have shifts, which is ridiculous, because it's not like Ty Lee has never been here while Zuko is here. Zuko has never been very funny, though, so Azula lets his stupid joke slide so long as she doesn't end up in that house alone.

Currently, Azula is laying on the couch, head resting on Ty Lee's lap as they watch Chopped and eat the cupcakes Zuko and Sokka made yesterday (ostensibly, Sokka contributed, although he tends to just sit at the counter and word vomit his every thought onto Zuko-- and Azula, if she's there). 

Azula loves Chopped. Her favorite part is when the young aspiring chef with big dreams gets their hope and innocence crushed by unforgiving judges.

Ty Lee hates Chopped, but she watches it with Azula anyways; they compromise by watching The Great British Baking Show afterwards. Something about catharsis or whatever. 

The camera zooms in on one of the contestants chopping vegetables.

"He's going to cut his hand," Azula states. She's watched enough of these to understand the method of filming and suspense.

Ty Lee has, too, but she's always been the optimist. "No, they got it," she smiles confidently.

They don't.

Azula looks up to see Ty Lee's pout. She grins.

"Told you. These shows are so predictable."

"Then why do we watch them?" Ty Lee is still pouting.

Azula shrugs, a true feat while laying down. "Doesn't make the resulting pain any less entertaining."

At this, Ty Lee rolls her eyes and promptly shoves a cupcake into Azula's mouth. Azula squawks indignantly. 

"What the hell?" she exclaims, sitting up to hack out the delicious, definitely-not-bite-sized treat. Ty Lee grins mischievously, a way she only seems to with Azula.

"Didn't predict that, huh?"

"You little bitch!" And Azula launches herself across the couch and tackles Ty Lee to the ground. They wrestle for a while before it turns into a tickle fight, which Azula wins because Ty Lee has yet to discover a ticklish bone in her body. It ends with Azula straddling Ty Lee triumphantly while Ty Lee giggles uncontrollably beneath her, despite the tickling having ceased.

And then suddenly Ty Lee stops giggling, and Azula looks down to find the other girl staring up at her with this look, and it makes Azula blush and she has to look away because the weight of her friend's gaze is just too much. 

And Azula realizes the compromising position they're in and quickly moves off of Ty Lee.

And what the fuck just happened? Azula is clever, but she doesn't understand this one. She glances over to see Ty Lee looking down awkwardly. Suddenly Azula feels guilty.

She's not sure how to handle that emotion.

She hopes Zuko is on his way; this would be a good time for the "changing of the guards," as Zuko called it.

She doesn't like this: they're Azula and Ty Lee. Inseparable since freshman year. There should never be an uncomfortable moment between them. Azula needs to fix this, but she doesn't know how.

She puts on The Great British Baking Show and they watch from opposite sides of the couch.

Chapter Text

Zuko had spent the past month almost exclusively at Sokka's house. Azula had never felt more alone. 

Their big, open, four-story house hadn't felt so cold when Zuko and Azula would hole up on the "attic" (it was more of a fifth floor, since it was finished and had a TV, couch, several gaming systems, as well as a full-ass kitchen) and eat crap while watching crappy cooking shows. They hadn't done that in a while. Hell, Azula hadn't even seen Zuko this week, and they went to the same school. 

Zuko told Azula she'd make more friends in high school. He'd said that in high school, people cared less about your issues. In high school, you get to start over.

Azula did not have any friends, and, so far, all she'd managed to do was piss off everyone she'd met. Including her teachers. Especially her teachers. She was lucky her father was one of those asshole parents who always sides with their child instead of the teacher.

Azula was always lucky. That's what Father said, anyway; spirits forbid he ever discover how much tutoring she got from Zuko to understand figurative language. 

When it came to friends, Azula's luck held true: she didn't need any. That's what she told Zuko. That's what she'd continued to tell him when he asked if she wanted to come with him to Sokka's house, or hang out with the Gaang.

Azula hated this big, empty house, but she'd hate anyone else's more. She didn't like this situation, but at least she understood it; go to a different house and suddenly there's a whole new list of norms you have to learn. Not to mention parents had never exactly been a fan of Azula when she came to those class-wide birthday parties. It wasn't her fault tablecloths were so flammable.

Zuko would call it anxiety. Azula would call it smart. Why be uncomfortable when she could just be lonely? The trade off would always be worth it in her mind.

Zuko was home today. She didn't even want to ask if he had plans later, lest she jinx it. No, Azula was going to drag Zuko up to the attic and they were going to watch Chopped. 

Zuko, as it turns out, did have other plans.

"Come on, Azula. We're going out."

Azula blinked at her brother from the mass of blankets and pillows that was her bed.

"I have homework."

Zuko just rolled his eyes. Azula did all her homework in school-- it was freshman year, for spirits' sake. She didn't have homework, and Zuko knew it.

"Put on a bra and come out of your woman-cave."

Azula stuck her tongue out. "You're still not funny, Zuzu."

Zuko said nothing, just turned and walked down the stairs with such confidence Azula was tempted to not follow him.

Azula followed him. She did consider pushing him down the stairs (as she often did when there was someone in front of her), but he was almost to the bottom and it just wouldn't have the desired effect.

"Where are we going?" She asked once they settled in the car. Zuko shouldn't be able to drive, being half-blind, but Ozai had pulled some strings in order to avoid driving his kids around. Or specifically, driving Zuko around; he'd told Azula he couldn't focus on the road when the "useless stick I wasted my sperm on" was sitting right there. As if he'd ever focus on the road.

Zuko paused, and Azula just knew he was considering lying. Which would never work on Azula.

"A tea shop," he decided. Azula made a face. 

"Gross," she commented. "When'd you get into tea?"

Zuko shrugged. Azula rolled her eyes. Zuko was the worst at deception. 

She trusted Zuko, though, and she'd missed him too much to pass up this opportunity. 

After driving for upwards of forty minutes (Spirits, Zuko, couldn't you fulfill your leaf-water needs thirty minutes closer to home?), they finally arrived at a little tea shop sandwiched between a laundromat and a Subway. The Jasmine Dragon seemed like an impossibly stupid name for a tea shop, but Azula could appreciate the quaint aesthetic the owner has achieved. 

When they walked in, the old man behind the counter greeted them immediately, despite already dealing with other customers.

"Zuko! Welcome back! And is this- could it be-" The old man rushed over, abandoning the other customers completely. He put a hand on Azula's shoulder and stared into her soul with amber eyes that matched her own.

And he was beginning to look familiar. 

Suddenly, Azula was taken back to Candlenights, one when her mother had been alive and they would celebrate with the whole family. Her uncle- Iroh?- had gifted her a doll. Not a well suited present for Azula, but there was no way for him to know that; Candlenights was the only time she'd ever interact with him.

She hadn't made a fuss-- Azula never made a fuss. She just simply stole Zuko's hunting knife instead.

As she prepared to sneak back into the living room to lift her brother's present, she paused when she heard voices arguing.

"Father would be so disappointed to see you now. You're weak, Iroh. And to think you used to command armies."

"No, brother, this is not the way. Father will understand. The world must change, and we can lead it. People are suffering."

Ozai laughed. "You think I care? Hell, we're doing those people a favor. They wouldn't even have jobs if not for us."

"I'm changing it, Ozai, and you cannot talk me out of it."

Azula hadn't seen her uncle after that. A few months later, her grandfather died and Ozai inherited the company. Azula didn't think anything of it, because of course her father inherited the company; he was strong, just like Azula.

And now, five years later, here was her uncle.

"Uncle Iroh? I thought you were dead." 

Iroh chuckled, like that wasn't a real possibility when dealing with Ozai.

"Azula, it's nice to see your spirit is still intact. A brilliant flower may fade in winter, but will be back twice as vibrant come spring." Azula wasn't sure what the hell that meant, but that was a problem for later. For now-

"Zuko, what the hell, how long have you been coming here?" Azula's voice was level but her eyes were treacherous. After a thought, she added, "Father is going to kill you."

Surprisingly, Zuko didn't back down. He met Azula's murderous gaze and responded calmly, almost patronizing.

"Father never has to know. And, Azula, you should give Uncle a chance. He's very... wise." Uncle Iroh nodded resolutely, and several eavesdropping patrons hummed in agreement.

"Was that what that garbage metaphor was? Wisdom? Convoluted and senile does not equal wise, brother." Azula was having none of this. Already, Zuko was too weak. Now he was consorting with Father's enemy? If he found out, even Azula wouldn't be able to protect him.

"Give the tortoise a chance, for its pace may just win out in the end." Uncle Iroh added sagely.

"See?" Azula exclaimed. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It's an allusion," Zuko explained, like that would mean anything to Azula.

"An illusion? Okay, you know what, I don't care. We're leaving. Goodbye, Uncle, my brother and I will be exiting your life now, thanks." Azula pulled Zuko towards the door, but Zuko held firm.

"Just hear him out, Azula. He's the only family we have left." Zuko sounded so pathetic, so pleading. He really was weak. Not to mention wrong-- Iroh was not the only family they had left. They had Father. And Azula seemed to recall an eccentric great-aunt on their mother's side. 

But she knew what he meant. Of course she did. 

She sighed. She wasn't going to win this one, not today. She'd talk to the old man, and then they could leave. She'd worry about convincing Zuko to stop coming here later.

"Alright, Uncle-- now what can I get here that doesn't taste like boiled La Croix?"

Azula hated when Zuko was right.

Azula hated when anyone was right, because it usually meant she was wrong. It didn't happen often-- she was a child genius, after all-- and perhaps that's what made it so much worse when it did.

Azula had gone back to the shop a couple times with Zuko, but he wasn't around much, so Azula found herself catching the bus down to The Jasmine Dragon by herself. Talking to Uncle was easy; he wasn't as soft as other people. Or perhaps he was more soft than other people-- so soft that Azula's sharp words just slid off him with a chuckle. And while Azula didn't understand any of the metaphors he gave her, the words were still soothing.

If he weren't her uncle and a million years old, Azula might've considered Iroh her friend. Since he was both those things, Azula decided she would just have to find who, out of her peers, was most like Iroh.

Lee, a student in her Honors Biology class, always wore his long hair half-up half-down. He failed assignments because his writing was illegible. He told obscure jokes no one understood and always hung out with the weak nerds.

Iroh always wore his gray hair half-up in a topknot, said things that were inscrutable, and hung out with Zuko, a weak nerd.

So Azula would be friends with Lee.

"Would you like some help?" Azula offered. He seemed to always be the last to finish, and Azula figured the best way to make friends would be to offer her services to this poor, scrawny boy.

"Nah, I'm good." Lee had not even looked up from his writing, biting his tongue between braced teeth in concentration. No amount of focus and time in the world could make this kid's handwriting not look like chicken-scratch. Azula took a deep breath. What would Uncle do?

Probably be patient. 

"I can write that for you, if you'd like. You could dictate."

Lee turned to Azula, freckled face scrunched in confusion. "What's dick tape?"

Patience, Azula.

"Dictate means you say something and I write it down."

"Oh," Lee said. He turned back to his paper. "Nah, I'm good."

Patience, Azula. What would Uncle say?

"The proud peacock may feel invincible, but one day it will only be preserved by its mark in the sand." Did that sound wise? She thinks Uncle would approve, although she had no idea what she was saying.

Apparently, Lee didn't either.

"Huh?"

Patience Azula- Oh, fuck it.

"Give me the goddamn pencil, Lee, your handwriting looks like shit and you're going to fail this class without some sort of intervention!"

"Azula!" the teacher called from behind her desk. "Language! I'll see you in detention."

So Lee was a no-go. Azula wasn't sure what she'd done wrong, but she figured Lee wasn't really worth it anyway.

When Azula arrived at detention that afternoon, she wasn't alone. The girl sitting in Azula's usual seat wasn't a regular-- and Azula would know, detention was becoming an almost daily occurrence for her. She grinned at Azula the moment she walked in the door. Ugh.

"Hi! I'm Ty Lee! What's up?"

Chapter Text

It was nearly a month into her first year of high school.

She should've seen it coming.

Ty Lee was Azula's best friend. Azula wasn't sure what that meant or how it all worked, but she had decided that not longer after their initial meeting. After that fateful detention, Azula had invited Ty Lee to The Jasmine Dragon, determined to get Uncle's seal of approval. Considering the whole Lee debacle, Azula figured she wasn't the best judge of character, and a second opinion would be beneficial in avoiding a repeat of the event.

"This is so cool! I've never been to a tea shop before!" Ty Lee was very excited to have her first tea experience. Ty Lee was often very excited, Azula was learning. She hadn't even batted an eye when Azula mentioned they'd have to take the bus; apparently supporting public transportation was "great for the environment! Plus, bus drivers are so nice!"

Ty Lee had not rescinded this statement when the number 4 bus driver had leveled her with an unimpressed stare after she'd offered him her signature enthusiastic greeting: "Hi! I'm Ty Lee. What's up?"

"Don't get your hopes up. It's nothing special." Azula assured Ty Lee. Someone had to bring her down a few notches. 

Ty Lee was not having it. "Too late! It's going to be amazing!" She leaned over her bus seat to give Azula a side hug. "I'm so glad you invited me."

Azula blushed deep red (curse her pale skin!) and shrugged the other girl off. "It's nothing. In fact, you shouldn't be thanking me, because now you have to drink leaf water."

"Sounds healthy," Ty Lee offered. There was no putting this girl down. No matter what Azula said, she'd spring right back.

Just like Uncle, Azula thought, and suddenly felt a lot more confident in her choice.

Uncle seemed to agree.

"Hello niece! Who's your friend?"

"Don't call me that!" Azula couldn't even count how many times they'd had this conversation, but Uncle seemed to always "forget." "Someone could hear, you senile dolt! I am nothing more than a customer who definitely doesn't know who you are at all. Ignorance is bliss, and also not incriminating."

Uncle and Ty Lee ignored her.

"Hi! I'm Ty Lee. What's up? I didn't know you were Azula's uncle, that's so cool!"

Azula glared at Ty Lee. She just smiled back innocently. Azula sighed. If they weren't going to be careful, what's the use? "Uncle, this is my best friend. We met in detention."

Uncle smiled at Ty Lee, and then he gave Azula a look-- one that she'd gotten many times from her father, but a different version. This one didn't make her feel like she needed to strive for more. This one made her feel like enough-- like Uncle was proud of her, and that didn't come with any conditions or strings attached. It wasn't a burden.

Azula looked away.

"I am so glad you have found a friend, Azula. Oftentimes tremulous situations lead to life-long bonds." Azula would hardly call detention tremulous, but she wasn't about to argue.

"Whatever, Uncle. We're going to sit now. Ty Lee would like to try your leafiest tea, and I will take some water." Azula dragged Ty Lee over to a booth near the counter.

"Aw, no! You have to try tea with me! We can do it together!" Ty Lee pouted. Even her pouting was happy. And effective... Azula couldn't say no to those big, brown eyes.

"Fine." Azula conceded as she took her seat, "I will be having the leaf-juice as well today, Uncle." Ty Lee beamed from her seat across from her.

Uncle was beaming, too. "I am so glad you have come around, Azula. I assure you, you will not regret it."

Azula did regret it. Tea was just as disgusting as she'd suspected. Even Ty Lee admitted it was devoid of flavor (but it smells great, though!). 

Azula did not regret bringing Ty Lee to The Jasmine Dragon, though. She and Uncle got along swimmingly, just as Azula had suspected. She felt more confident than ever in her decision. 

After the tea shop excursion, Ty Lee and Azula spent more and more time together. Suddenly, she wasn't alone anymore. When her house felt too big, she'd text Ty Lee to come over; there was no one with a bigger presence than Ty Lee, not even the Keohso estate. 

She still missed Zuko. And Zuko, that empathetic prick, actually noticed. 

"Hey, I'm going over to Sokka's." Zuko called, not turning to face Azula as he headed towards the door. Azula said nothing.

Zuko paused. Azula was not typically one to be silent. He turned to face her blanketed form sitting by the kitchen counter.

"Do you want to come?" Zuko offered, a hopefulness in his voice-- like he actually believed she might say yes.

"I'm fine, Zuko. Stop worrying about me, I even made a friend." Zuko's eyes widened and Azula played back what she'd said. She'd told Zuko about Ty Lee, they'd even met a few times, so why was he... Oh. 

Azula never called Zuko "Zuko."

Zuko bit his lip, then seemed to decide something. He pulled out his phone and typed something out before joining Azula at the kitchen counter. 

"Aren't you supposed to be somewhere?" Azula raised an eyebrow. She did not need a babysitter-- she could take care of herself, thank you very much.

"Sokka's coming here. He misses you. We haven't hung out in forever."

Azula doubted Sokka missed her. Sure, they hung out a lot, even if they haven't in a while. He'd been Zuko's best friend since his freshman year: he was practically family. But nobody missed Azula. Most people couldn't wait to be free of her company-- there was certainly no one lining up to get it.

But Azula had missed Sokka, and she did miss Zuko, so she decided to let Zuko's obvious lie slide.

When he arrived, Sokka wasted no time messing up Azula's topknot with an attempt to ruffle her hair (as he always did, and it never worked well).

"Tui and La, Zuzu, it's been forever! We cannot let this happen again." Sokka looked... genuinely happy to see her. Azula couldn't help but smile, even as she rolled her eyes at the stupid nickname. Ever since Sokka had pointed out she also had a "zu" in her name, he'd called her nothing else. Thankfully, Zuko had not jumped on that wagon, as he understood his place as the resident Zuzu. "What do you say, bake cookies, then Cupcake Wars?"

Sokka knew her so well.

As always, Sokka and Azula sat at the counter of the attic kitchen, critiquing Zuko on his baking while not actually contributing anything (Zuko's baking skill far surpassed either of theirs, anyway). When the desert was done, they all sat on the couch-- Azula sandwiched between the two older boys-- and enjoyed their treats over some good old American baking shows.

It was just like old times.

Which weren't so old, really, it had only been a month or so, but Azula didn't realize how much she'd needed this. How scared she'd been that this was over, and Zuko and Sokka had left their little trio, leaving Azula all alone in this big goddamn house.

With the comforting presence of her brother and her basically-brother on either side of her, it wasn't long before Azula had drifted asleep.

When she awoke, she was alone on the couch, a blanket draped over her that hadn't been there before. She could hear Sokka and Zuko cleaning up in the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled. It was around dinner time, but fuck that. She hoped they hadn't put the cookies away yet.

Azula crept over to the kitchen, socked feet silencing her footsteps, but she froze when Sokka and Zuko came into view.

They were standing... very close. Closer than Azula would consider platonic.

"Thanks for coming over. I feel like such a shitty brother for not noticing sooner." Zuko's voice was so soft, so vulnerable. It wasn't one he used often, having been hardened by years with their father.

Sokka intertwined their hands. "I'm always happy to come over, Zuko. I've been missing Azula too. You're not a shitty brother, Z. You're a fucking fantastic brother because you did notice and you did something about it." Sokka looked so sincere, such a contrast to his usual air of sarcasm. 

Zuko hummed in response and looked down. With the hand not holding Zuko's, Sokka lifted Zuko's face and gave him a quick kiss. Azula's stomach dropped.

"Hey, look at me, Z." Zuko met Sokka's gaze. "I love you. Azula loves you. She knows you love her. You're doing your best in a really fucked up situation."

Zuko melted into Sokka's arms. "Spirits, I love you," he sighed.

Azula scurried back into the other room before either of them could see her.

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

Oh, spirits, Father was going to kill Zuko.

After that day, Zuko and Sokka began to spend a lot more time with Azula, just like they had before.

Azula began to notice a lot of not-so-platonic-when-you-squint touches and looks between the two. It didn't mess with their trio, though, so Azula didn't say anything. Azula couldn't say anything. If Father found out... 

Father would not find out. Azula would be sure of that. Azula always lies, a few more couldn't hurt, right?

Chapter Text

Zuko had a secret.

Well, it wasn’t really a secret, considering everyone knew it but his father. Even Azula did. She’d never asked about it, but Zuko had never tried to hide it, and Azula was clever: of course she knew.

But Zuko had another secret. 

He saw how they were together. The way they interacted. The casual touches, the familiarity. He recognized them from back when Sokka and him were just pining idiots.

Azula is gay. Azula is gay and in love with her best friend, and he’s not sure how to handle the fact that she is oblivious to both of these facts.

“Let her figure it out. If you tell her now, she’ll just freak out.” Sokka advised, rubbing circles in his arm. They were in Sokka’s bed, and Sokka had wrapped himself around Zuko, cocooning him in his arms. It was a familiar position, and one that never failed to quiet Zuko’s anxieties, if only for the moment.

“I know. I know. I just…” Zuko trailed off. Azula’s situation was eerily similar to his a few years back. He’d needed guidance, and he hadn’t gotten it; he’d had to figure it out all on his own, and it had terrified him. 

Zuko couldn’t pinpoint the moment he realized Azula was gay, the same way he couldn’t remember when he had figured it out for himself. It seemed to be the two truths he had been born with: he was gay, and so was his sister. An unfortunate reality in the Keohso household.

You can’t be gay and be a Keohso.

Zuko had dated many girls before-- Mai being the only one that lasted more than a few months, since she was just as gay and confused as he was. He’d eventually given up the facade and he and Sokka started dating openly (at school, with friends, at parties... everywhere but home), but it had taken years to find that courage. Years of living in fear and agony. He couldn’t bear for Azula to face the same thing. He wouldn’t allow it.

“I know, babe,” Sokka said, pulling Zuko closer, because apparently he really is a mind reader. “But Azula is strong, and she’s got your uncle now, too. She’s not alone.”

Azula wasn't alone; Zuko had made sure of that.

He hated that house, but he knew she couldn't leave. If she wouldn't come to Sokka's, he'd bring Sokka to her (not being with Sokka was kind of out of the question at this point). He made it a habit to come home after school every day-- perhaps a normal occurrence in someone else's world, but Zuko had become used to going straight to Sokka's. Instead, he'd bring Sokka over and the three of them would dick around and occasionally do homework in the attic. Sometimes Ty Lee would join them, but she usually came over when Zuko and Sokka were gone. Zuko had a feeling Azula was afraid if she spent too much time with one person, they’d get tired of her and leave.

He did wish she'd come with him to Sokka's, though. He knew she had Ty Lee, but one friend you were secretly in love with is not enough. If she just met the Gaang... well, she'd probably hate them at first, but so had Zuko. 

It took a while for any Keohso to not hate nice people. Uncle was an enigma. 

Zuko was tremendously grateful for Uncle.

He had found him after he'd needed him, but he was grateful all the same. A few months into dating Sokka, Zuko had remembered his entire family didn't suck-- he had an uncle who had been kind. Or at least not entirely cold-hearted.

He'd needed someone. Someone to talk to about Sokka, about Azula, about his friends-- someone he could lean on. An adult. 

A father.

So he did some digging, and found The Jasmine Dragon.

He'd been visiting Uncle almost weekly for about a year before he brought Azula there. He had to be sure she was ready.

He felt a lot better knowing Azula had Uncle. And Uncle was perceptive; no doubt he knew about her situation as well as Zuko did. Zuko had talked about it before, as well, and Uncle's advice had been similar to Sokka's. Something about flowers blooming.

He was becoming exceedingly worried, but he knew he had to be patient. He would be there for her, when she was ready.

Until then, he just had to make sure she wasn't alone.

Chapter Text

"There's gotta be someone. No way can everyone in your family be a piece of shit like your dad."

Zuko was laying in Sokka's bed, with his boyfriend's head on his stomach. He'd taken Sokka's hair-tie out long ago-- it was a crime how good his boyfriend looked with his hair down-- and was currently running his fingers through his coarse brown hair.

"Well, there's me," Zuko pointed out, "and Azula."

"Y'all don't count," Sokka insisted, gesturing up at the ceiling. "You're like, the new generation."

"So we're the iPhone X and our father's a 4?" Zuko grinned. His father probably didn't even deserve a 4, but Zuko hadn't been old enough to experience an iPhone before it. Maybe the iPhone 3 was really great, and he wasn't going to run the risk of accidentally complimenting the man.

"Nah, that asshole's a straight-up android."

"Sokka, you have an android."

"I know," he sighed. "Doesn't mean I can't long for greener pastures."

"I had an uncle," Zuko said, returning to the question at hand. "He was cool. I think he's dead now, though."

Sokka frowned. "Think?"

Zuko shrugged. "Haven't seen him in a few years. And he was supposed to inherit the company when my grandfather died, but my father did instead. I think he had him killed or something."

Sokka turned his head toward Zuko and raised his eyebrows. At this point, he knew what Ozai was capable of, but the nonchalance with which Zuko spoke was still jarring.

"Well, if he is alive, he's probably worried about you guys. You should find out for sure."

Zuko snorted. "What, you want me to ask my father?"

"No..." Sokka sat up, and Zuko followed (mourning the loss of the comforting weight of his boyfriend's beautiful head on his stomach). Sokka reached for his computer on the side-table and brought it onto his lap, maneuvering so he sat beside Zuko against the bed frame. "Use the internet and stalk him like a normal person, Z."

Fair enough.

"Iroh Keohso," Zuko offered, resting his head on his boyfriend's shoulder as he began his search. Sokka scanned the page, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

"Nope, nothing. No social or anything."

Zuko hummed. He hadn't expected it to be that easy. If Ozai truly hadn't killed him, he still would've tried to erase his brother as much as possible.

"Try just Iroh?"

"Too broad," Sokka said, shaking his head, "anything to narrow it down?"

Zuko tried to think of anything distinctive about his uncle. He had only seen him once a year on Candlenights, before he disappeared from their lives five years ago. He remembered a lot of confusing old proverbs, some pretty cool presents (and others which were less exciting, like a book of haiku or woolen socks), and-

"He really liked tea." He'd insisted Zuko and Azula have it every Candlenights, telling them they just had to try his new blend. It never failed to taste like leaf-juice, each new blend leafier than the last.

Sokka raised an eyebrow. "That's the best you can come up with? Lots of people named Iroh like tea, Zuko."

Zuko shrugged. "He really liked tea. And metaphors."

Sokka sighed and reluctantly typed it into the search bar. His blue eyes widened as he scanned the screen.

"Holy shit, Z. That actually worked."

"What?" Zuko sat up to see the screen, intrigued.

"Everyone's posting about this guy Iroh's great tea and advice. Specifically given in ambiguous metaphors. Holy shit."

Zuko read some of the posts. There was even a hashtag-- #teatimewithiroh. They were all comments about a sweet old man, giving sage advice and brightening days with the excellent tea he brewed at his shop-- The Jasmine Dragon.

"Where is The Jasmine Dragon? I've never heard of it."

Sokka pulled up a new tab and typed in the shop. He bit his lip, a clear tell he was beginning to plan.

"It's like forty minutes away."

Sokka looked at Zuko.

Zuko looked at Sokka.

"I'll get my keys," Zuko said, hopping up and heading out the door.

"Right behind you," Sokka called, shoving his feet into sneakers before stumbling after his boyfriend.

Maybe this had been impulsive. Sitting in his car now, looking at the little tea shop, Zuko realized the gravity of what he was doing.

The name Iroh Keohso had disappeared for a reason, after all.

"Hey," Sokka said, pulling Zuko out of his thoughts, "we don't have to do this today. Or ever, if you don't want to."

Zuko considered the offer. He didn't really know anything about his uncle. By going into that shop, he could be introducing another "Father" figure into his life. He could be a total creep, as malevolent as Ozai. 

Or he could be the only decent family member he had left, other than Azula. Zuko had to try, for both their sakes.

"No, I'm okay," Zuko decided. "Let's go."

Sokka shifted uncomfortably. "Um..." he began.

"What?" Suddenly Zuko felt even more nervous. "Do you not want to come?" Zuko didn't think he could do this alone.

"No! No, I just..." Zuko raised his eyebrow. Sokka looked down at his hands. "Well, it seems like a family matter. I don't want to intrude."

"Sokka," Zuko turned to face his boyfriend, lifting his chin so he could look him in the eye, "you are family. You are more family to me than my own father, and definitely the man in there. You are the one who is there not only for me, but for Azula, too. I love you and she loves you, and you are a part of this family."

Sokka's eyes were suspiciously shiny. Zuko could feel his good eye welling up a little, too. But they weren't here to cry in a car (they'd both done enough of that to last a lifetime; don't ask), they were here to see Zuko's uncle.

Zuko leaned over the seat to kiss his boyfriend before opening the car door. "Let's go, babe."

Sokka grinned. He loved it when Zuko called him pet names.

"Right behind you, Z."

Chapter Text

They had to stop ending up like this.

They were baking, because of course they were baking. With Sokka and Zuko, they were either baking, bingeing shows, or both. Or sleeping. They took a lot of impromptu naps.

Zuko needed the butter. Sokka was leaning against the fridge, because even though he rarely contributed to the baking process, he still found a way to be in the way.

"Move," Zuko commanded.

"Huh?" Sokka looked up from his phone, where he was queuing more of his awful 2010 pop songs. "Oh," he said, and didn't move. Zuko raised his eyebrow expectantly.

Sokka shrugged, smiling in challenge. "Make me."

Zuko sighed. Sometimes he wondered how he had even become friends with this idiot.

"No," Zuko stated simply-- he was making these cookies and he would not take any bullshit. "Move, you dolt."

"Dolt?" Sokka laughed. "Sharp words, Z, I'm hurt!"

Zuko struggled to keep his steely gaze. He succeeded, of course, because he's had years of practice keeping a straight face, but it didn't matter; Sokka was unrelenting.

"Sokka, you useless lump of coffee grounds, you watered-down La Croix, get out of my way so I can make you cookies."

Sokka grinned. "Aw, you're making them for me? Zuko, you shouldn't have."

Zuko was not impressed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed for patience -- Agni knows he's come a long way from his quick temper but Sokka is just such an idiot sometimes.

"Spirits, Sokka, you know what-" 

And Zuko didn't think he would ever stop replaying what happened next. 

He could've done so many different things. He could've waited it out; Sokka was a sucker for Zuko's baking, he would've given in sooner or later. He could've pushed Sokka out of the way, fought his way past. All those years of training in martial arts weren't for nothing, after all. Hell, he could've gone to a different fridge -- he knew Sokka's house had a freezer in the garage. 

But Zuko didn't think to do any of those things. Instead, he reached around Sokka, not bothering to move any closer, trusting his arm to be long enough to reach the fridge door and yank it open.

It wasn't. Or it was, but it was just far enough that he stumbled and fell.

Onto Sokka. 

Or he would have, if Sokka hadn't caught him. 

And suddenly Zuko was nose-to-nose with the other boy, Sokka with a tight grip on Zuko's arm, the only thing between him and what would've been an epic fall to the ground. 

And Sokka hadn't let go.

And spirits, had Sokka's eyes always been that blue?

Sokka was looking at Zuko, wide-eyed and frozen, full of apprehension and confusion and something inscrutable, all reflected back in Zuko's own eyes.

Zuko's eyes flicked down to Sokka's lips. Sokka's face got closer. And Zuko's face got closer. And what the hell was happening?

Zuko pulled away, so suddenly that Sokka nearly fell to the floor. Zuko had no time to appreciate the potential irony.

"I- uh-" Zuko grabbed his keys off the counter. He was sure Sokka was still wearing that dumb-founded expression, but he couldn't bring himself to actually look at him. He needed to get out of here. Zuko had a million excuses in his back pocket, and he spurted out them all into an unintelligible stream of nothing: "I have to- Homework- I just remembered- Azula- I have to go."

And he ran. Or more stumbled over his own feet. Out the door, into the car, start the car, out the driveway, get the fuck out of there and go home.

Or to his house, at least.

Back in his own unnecessarily extravagant, spotlessly white driveway, Zuko turns off the engine and breathes for the first time in the twenty minute drive over.

And the thing is, this isn't even the first time this has happened.

They were baking, because of course they were baking.

What was rare about this particular bake was its location: they were at Zuko's house, and Azula wasn't even there. Well, she was, but when she had returned from soccer practice, she collapsed on the couch and promptly fell asleep.

Even more uncommon in this bake -- Sokka was contributing. Zuko, being the perfectionist he was, wasn't thrilled to share the kitchen, but Sokka made it fun. Sokka made everything fun -- that was just who he was.

They were using the downstairs kitchen, since Ozai wasn't home and it was much larger (and therefore much more accommodating for the two amateur bakers). When Sokka had suggested it, Zuko had agreed, because, logically, it made sense.

But Zuko's brain was not the most logical.

He felt on edge, like Ozai would walk in at any moment and catch them -- but catch them doing what? He knew Sokka, and even though he wasn't his biggest fan, he wouldn't be upset that Zuko had him over. Still, Zuko felt exposed in a way that made him uneasy. It was almost palpable; a burning that filled the air-

"Oh, shit!" Sokka called, bringing Zuko back to the present, and oh, that was actual burning.

But Zuko was in front of the stove, where Sokka's sugar compote was browning. And Sokka was moving so fast, reaching out and stumbling in his socked feet.

Zuko moved to turn off the burner for Sokka, but that just put him in the path of destruction. Sokka, with all his grace, inevitably fell, and he fell onto Zuko.

Suddenly they were on the floor, and Zuko was looking up at the boy who'd just landed on top of him. At his almond-shaped blue eyes, staring back into Zuko's amber ones. 

Sokka's Best of 2010 playlist faded to the background; all Zuko could hear was his heart pounding in his head.

And then Sokka reached up and brushed a piece of hair that had fallen out of Zuko's top knot off his forehead. When it was back in place, Sokka's hand stayed, resting over Zuko's scar.

Had Sokka's lips always been that pink? They were so close now.

Sokka's eyes flicked down to Zuko's lips, then back up to stare into his eyes.

They were so close. They were so close.

The song changed, snapping Zuko out of his dazed state. He quickly pushed Sokka off of him and stood up, not bothering to offer a hand. He grabbed Sokka's sweatshirt and shoved it at him.

"I have to- you have to- I have this- I'll see you at school," Zuko decided. He looked down at the floor.

"Zuko, I-"

"Azula and I have a thing," Zuko interrupted, not wanting to let Sokka apologize for whatever had just happened. That would make it real. "I'll see you later." He kept his eyes trained on the floor, studying the shapes in the hardwood.

"Okay," was all Sokka said, and something in his tone just broke Zuko. No. He would not cry. At least not while Sokka was here.

Sokka left.

Zuko sat in the driveway, unable to find the motivation to get out of the car.

How had he let this happen?

Everything had been so great. Sokka and him were becoming inseparable; a real team. And he had to go and ruin it.

A sob built up in his throat. Zuko let it. When it came, it brought a flood of tears from his good eye, and some leakage from his left.

Zuko let it come, again and again -- ugly cries that shook his body and ripped through his throat, leaving it raw and sore.

Everything had been so great, and he'd had to go and ruin it all. 

He'd known something like this was inevitable. He'd always known, but his breakup with Mai had brought it to light, and now here it was.

He just hadn't thought it'd be Sokka. He couldn't lose him. He couldn't be alone.

A knock on the car window.

Shit shit shit shit shit-

Zuko looked up to see Azula standing in front of the window, arms crossed. He breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door.

"What are you doing?" She demanded in that disapproving voice that meant she cared.

"I'm having a breakdown in my car," Zuko supplied. Azula rolls her eyes.

"Well come have a breakdown inside. I have Cupcake Wars queued up and it's just depressing to watch it alone."

The younger girl pulled her brother from the car seat, dragging him inside and upstairs to the attic. Once Zuko was settled on the couch, snuggled up next to Azula, he smiled down at his sister.

He might lose Sokka, but he'd never be alone.

Chapter Text

Somewhere along the line, Azula had gone wrong.

At some point in her and Ty Lee's relationship, she'd messed up somehow, and now it was all fucked.

Azula pushes everyone away, but she'd thought Ty Lee was different. And she was -- she never ran and always seemed happy to come over, but there were moments where they were just... off in a way Azula had never experienced with Ty Lee.

Ty Lee was her person. Ty Lee would still be here when Zuko was gone, off to college with Sokka. Azula needed ... Well, Azula didn't need anyone. Certainly not. She was strong, like her father. She didn't need people who were there for her, or people who loved her. Fear was a powerful weapon, and much more effective than any kind of support.

She didn't need anyone... but it was nice to have Ty Lee.

Azula was capable of anything. Azula was in AP Calculus as a sophomore. Azula was the star of the soccer team. Azula had carried the debate team to Nationals. Azula could fix this, so she would.

She wasn't arrogant enough to think she could do it on her own, though. No, Azula was well aware this was not her area of expertise. Thankfully, she happened to know someone who could offer a little wisdom. 

Tea time with Uncle (or #teatimewithiroh to those on Twitter) had become a regular occurrence; on Wednesdays, the only day she didn't have something after school, she'd take the bus from school to The Jasmine Dragon and chat with her senile but (admittedly) charismatic uncle.

On this particular Wednesday, Azula had a plan: she was going to fix whatever she’d broken in her friendship with Ty Lee, and they’d go back to being Azula and Ty Lee. Or at least, she would leave Uncle’s shop with a plan. Uncle would know what to do.

“Hmm.” Uncle leaned back in his chair. He stared vaguely over Azula’s head, pondering.

“Well?” Azula snapped. Uncle liked to take his time collecting his thoughts, but Azula had never been patient.

“Dear niece, you know that I will always love you, no matter what,” Uncle said, finally focusing back on Azula.

Azula squirmed in her seat. “Gross.”

Why did Uncle always feel the need to say things like that? It was... unnatural. People didn't just say those things. Not strong people, at least.

Uncle reached out and patted her hand. “I hope you know to be safe, Azula. And to respect yourself and Ty Lee.”

“What?” Azula scrunched up her face in confusion, pulling her hand back. This is not where she's thought this would go. “Uncle, what on Earth are you talking about?”

Uncle sat back in his seat and sipped his tea.

“The squirrel knows not what winter will bring, but must be prepared anyway. We must not forget to stock up on acorns.”

In hindsight, maybe Uncle wasn’t the answer.

Azula didn't see Ty Lee for the rest of the week.

This was rare. Ty Lee was over nearly every night (since Zuko spent nearly every night at Sokka's, even if he did come home after school), but Azula hadn't texted her to come, so she hadn't. Ty Lee hadn't texted either.

And why did Azula feel... disappointed?

"Where's Ty Lee?" Zuko asked, frowning as he prepared to head over to Sokka's. It was Friday night, and Ty Lee usually arrived right before Zuko left. Just as Azula planned it.

Azula shrugged. "She has a life, Zuko. She's not just going to be here every night." But she had been.

"Yes," Zuko said, turning and narrowing his eyes at Azula, "but her life includes coming here every night."

Azula said nothing. If she opened her mouth, she'd lie, and she too tired to deal with that now.

"Azula," Zuko said, and Azula looked up to meet her brother's gaze defiantly. 

"Yes, dear brother?"

Zuko bit his lip. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he opened and closed it again.

"Okay," Azula said, getting up to leave; she was not in the mood for Zuko's articulation struggles.

"Wait!" Zuko called, and Azula sighed and turned back around. "Just... don't push her away. You'll... Well, you'll just feel worse. It might be... difficult right now, but..." Zuko paused yet again, considering his next words, "it'll get better, I promise."

"Okay, Zuzu, whatever you say," Azula replied, but she'd be lying if his words didn't resonate. But Azula always lies.

On her way up the stairs, she sent her best friend a text:
Great British Baking Show?

Chapter Text

Just like that, Azula and Ty Lee were inseparable once more.

Everything was back to normal; everything was good again. Zuko and Sokka came over every day after school, then would leave for Sokka's house around ten and spend the night there. Ty Lee would arrive just as they were leaving. Ty Lee would stay over Saturday morning and afternoon, and Zuko and Sokka would spend Saturday night and Sunday with Azula. It was perfect.

Today was a Saturday morning -- Ty Lee's "shift."

"How come your brother's never here?"

Azula didn't look up from her Calculus homework. Only half listening (her brain was much too flooded with numbers at the moment to truly process any words), she responded in monotone: "What do you mean, Zuko's here all the time."

Ty Lee jumped onto Azula's legs, which were stretched out on the couch. She looked down at Azula quizzically. Azula sighed and set her homework down.

"What do you mean? I've only hung out with him here like, three times. And I'm here all the time, so clearly he is not."

Azula shrugged noncommittally. "He spends a lot of time with his b- with Sokka."

"His what?" Ty Lee's eyes went wide.

"His best friend. I forgot you knew Sokka." Azula always lies, and she cursed herself for stumbling.

"You said you guys were close, but I never see you together," Ty Lee pushed, returning from her short tangent. She pouted, as if Azula was denying her of witnessing some sort of exemplary sibling relationship.

"Our schedules just work out that way. He's here when you're not."

Ty Lee hummed and sat back on her knees, considering. "What does Zuko mean when he says it's like a changing of the guard when I come over and he leaves?"

Azula cursed her brother's stupid attempts at humor. "Just a dumb joke," she said, shrugging and looking back down at her homework. "Zuzu isn't very good at those."

Ty Lee crossed her arms and frowned. It was a rare expression for Ty Lee, but it was just as genuine as her smiles. "Azula, why don't you want me to be here when Zuko's here?"

Azula always lies. So why is it so hard to lie to Ty Lee?

Azula shifted uncomfortably. "That's ridiculous. You're welcome to come over whenever it suits you -- it's just worked out this way so far."

"So far?" Ty Lee said incredulously. "Azula, I've been over basically every day since we were freshmen -- almost two years. I know you, Azula, and there is no way this is not planned."

Azula kept her eyes on the very difficult math problem on her lap. "That's ridiculous," she repeated. She was mentally going through each excuse she'd ever used, but none seemed to apply to what-to-tell-your-best-friend-when-they-want-to-expose-your-biggest-weakness. Not that Azula had a weakness.

"It is," Ty Lee said, voice heart-breakingly soft. "Azula, are you embarrassed of me?"

Azula's head snapped up. "What? No, of course not, Ty Lee. Now that is truly ridiculous." How Ty Lee, captain-of-the-cheerleaders-and-dance-squad, everyone's-best-friend, endlessly-friendly-and-charismatic Ty Lee, could have reached that conclusion baffled Azula. Azula, who was very much not endlessly friendly or charismatic. Definitely not everyone's best friend, either; just ask Lee from Honors Biology.

"Then why don't you want me around him?" Ty Lee gasped. "Are you embarrassed of him?"

"What? No! Well, yes, but for normal sibling reasons." Azula sighed and put her head in her hands. She did not want to have this conversation, but it was becoming more and more inevitable. "Just- Ty Lee- I..."

"Yes?" Ty Lee prompted gently, perking back up. Azula looked at her through the cracks between her fingers.

She felt weak. She felt like Zuko. And she knows what happens to people like Zuko -- and Azula doesn't have an amazing younger sister to protect her.  She would not have this conversation through her hands. She was strong, and strong people were never embarrassed or awkward.

Azula sat up, dropping her hands to her lap. She wondered where to look before deciding a strong person would make direct eye contact. But which eye?

Spirits, I really am becoming Zuko.

Choosing Ty Lee's left eye, Azula spoke to her in a clear voice. She would not go down for this.

"Zuko calls it a 'changing of the guards' because, in a sense, it is." Ty Lee frowned in confusion but listened intently. "This house is big and I- it gets boring." Azula wasn't going to give up everything. "I space out you and Zuko's visits so nobody gets tired of me and- and leaves." 

Ty Lee stared at Azula in surprise. Azula stared back, back straight and gaze daring her to challenge.

Then, suddenly, Azula was enveloped into a pair of long, thin arms. Hesitantly, she wrapped her own arms around Ty Lee. Once they were there, she found herself holding on tighter.

"Azula," Ty Lee pulled back just enough to look into Azula's eyes. "I will never leave you. I will never get tired of you. You are my best friend and my favorite person on the planet, and I will never leave you. No matter what." Ty Lee smiled. "You're stuck with me. And Zuko, too," she added. "I've not spent much time with him, but I can tell how much he cares about you."

Ty Lee's eyes were suspiciously wet. The water overflowed onto her cheeks, and Azula pulled her back in and held her even tighter.

As a rule, Azula did not apologize. It was weak to make mistakes, so Azula made none, and therefore never had the need to apologize.

But seeing Ty Lee cry did something to Azula. Before she could even process it, she whispered, "I'm sorry," into Ty Lee's ear.

Ty Lee pulled back a little and smiled. She was crying, but she was smiling. So maybe it was okay.

Azula felt uncharacteristically nervous. 

"It's okay, Azula," Ty Lee soothed, and stretched to kiss Azula's forehead. Immediately, Azula's brain emptied of every thought that was not Ty Lee kissing her forehead.

"Okay," she managed. "Great British Baking Show? I'm tired of calculus." 

Ty Lee let out a shaky laugh. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Chapter Text

Father was home.

It was Candlenights, and while they no longer celebrated with their extended family, Father always made sure he was home for the holiday. Or, at least, home for his company's holiday party. Which Zuko and Azula were forced to go to.

"Forced" wasn't the right word. It was more like expected, and if they don't, there will be consequences. 

It wasn't terrible; Father always allowed them to bring a "date." Azula didn't have someone to take as a date, so she just took Ty Lee.

Every year, Zuko brought Mai. It was a smart move -- Azula could appreciate that. Mai and Zuko were still good friends, too, so it wasn't even painful.

In previous years, Azula would network; these gatherings were the perfect opportunity to gain loyalty from the people she would be leading one day. These past two years, though, she'd found herself in the corner with Ty Lee, where Zuko and Mai hung out until the event was over. It was stupid, but she couldn't force herself to go out there and "mingle" when doing nothing with Ty Lee, Zuko, and Mai was infinitely more bearable.

"It's so cold in here," Ty Lee bemoaned, clinging onto Azula for warmth. Azula rolled her eyes. Azula didn't get cold; neither did Zuko -- or her father, as far as she could tell. Her skin was always warm, though, and Ty Lee would use Azula as her personal heat pack whenever the temperature dropped below 75 degrees F. Weak, but Azula didn't object.

Mai nodded in agreement, although she was much more prepared -- wearing long pants and a jacket -- from all her previous Candlenights company parties. Still, she clung to Zuko. Zuko didn't seem to mind, not nearly as uncomfortable with her physical affection as he had been when they were dating (which they still were, technically, but Azula knew better).

"When can we leave?" Mai asked in her monotone not-having-any-of-this voice. Zuko sighed dramatically; he was always more dramatic around Mai. Azula would say she was a bad influence if she didn't like her so much ( she's a badass, okay? ). 

Azula used to be  obsessed  with Mai when she was little -- always crashing her and Zuko's dates. Not that either of them seemed to care, though.

She was considerably less obsessed now, but she still held great respect for how scary she could be.

"Same time as last year," Zuko reminded Mai, "when the party ends." Mai groaned and buried her face in Zuko's shoulder. Zuko patted her head.

"There, there."

Without looking up, Mai wordlessly raised her middle finger at Zuko, who promptly pushed it down. "We're in a place of business, Mai!" Zuko complained, but he was laughing.

Ty Lee turned to Azula with lidded eyes. "'m tired, 'Zula."

"You too?" Azula lamented. "Spirits, you two have the endurance of  children ."

"We  are  children," Ty Lee pointed out, and Azula just huffed, leaning back in her seat. Ty Lee yawned and leaned her head on Azula's shoulder. Within minutes, Azula could hear the quiet snores indicating the girl was asleep. She rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the fond smile that spread on her face when she looked down at the serene Ty Lee currently drooling on her shoulder.

When she looked up, Mai was looking at them with an odd expression. Azula immediately soured and resumed her Resting I-Could-Kill-You-If-Wanted-And-I-Just-Might Face.

Zuko was looking down at his phone, presumably texting Sokka. Then his phone began to ring, and he nearly dropped it in surprise.

"Shit! Shit. I have to take this." Zuko brought the phone up to his ear and walked off towards the exit. "I'll be right back," he called over his shoulder, and Mai nodded. In previous years, he might've given her a kiss on the cheek before leaving, but now he just rushed out the door.

Leaving Azula alone with Mai and a sleeping Ty Lee.

This would be fine under normal circumstances, and it  is  fine, but Mai is scrutinizing Azula with her piercing yellow eyes. It's not making Azula  uncomfortable --  she would just... rather not be under her gaze.

"So you and Ty Lee?"

Azula was feeling restless, but she didn't dare move, lest she disturb the sleeping beauty.

"What do you mean?" She kept her voice sharp, unwavering. She refused to be nervous -- what did she have to be worried about? "We're best friends," she added defensively, although she wasn't sure why.

Mai raised an eyebrow.

Azula was so disconcerted, but she didn't let it show, staring up at Mai challengingly.

"Okay," Mai conceded, "then let me tell you a story."

Mai leaned forward in her chair, elbows on her knees, never once breaking eye contact. 

"Once upon a time,  I  had a best friend. We spent every minute together -- like you and Ty Lee. She'd fall asleep on my shoulder. I'd give her my jacket when she was cold. Things like that."

Where was this going? And why did Azula feel sick all of a sudden?

"She's not my best friend anymore."

Azula resented the way that made her stomach drop. Her already pale skin turned a few shades whiter, almost reaching Mai's ghost complexion.

"She's my girlfriend," Mai concluded, sitting back in her chair. She looked far too pleased with herself for how confused she'd just made Azula.

She did not understand the point of her story. Sure, she hadn't known Mai was into girls, but she wasn't surprised; watching the way she interacted with Zuko while they were dating made it clear she was at least not into boys. 

She sat facing Mai with what must've been a nonplused expression, her controlled presentation having dropped as her brain tried to process and sort out the relevance of Mai's "story." It wasn't even a story, just three or four sentences that left Azula floundering. 

Mai sighed, clearly the confusion written on Azula's face. "Azula-"

Mai was cut off by Zuko's return as the boy ran back to their group.

"I have to go," he panted, eyes wide.

" I  thought-"

Zuko didn't let Mai finish her retort. "I have to go. Sorry."

"You're our ride home," Azula pointed out, brain still stuck on Mai's conversation and not yet ready to process the potential implications of Zuko's panic.

"Shit," Zuko ran a hand through his hair, tangling his fingers into his topknot, and chunks of black hair fell down onto his forehead. "Shit, shit, shit. Okay. You guys have to come with me, then."

"Father will be furious," Azula remarked, though Zuko already knew that.

" I know ," Zuko put his head in his hands. Speaking through the cracks between his fingers, he mumbled: "Okay. I'm leaving, and I will come back to take you guys home." He lifted his head. "Okay?"

Azula's brain gave up on her conversation with Mai, fast-forwarding to the present. She began to feel panic for her idiot brother. She stood swiftly, effectively waking up Ty Lee.  Damnit.

"Zuko, wait," Azula commanded. Zuko turned, still bouncing around restlessly, and Azula knew the only reason he'd stopped was that she'd used  Zuko . The use of nicknames made the usage of someone's full name much more powerful; it's the main reason Azula uses them. "You can't leave. Spirits only know what Father will do. You're being foolish, I'm sure everything's fine." She wasn't, but Azula wasn't going to worry about Sokka now. She was sure he was what this was about -- who else could get Zuko so worked up?

Azula loved Sokka, but he could take care of himself. Zuko, on the other hand...

Zuko made a strangled noise that suggested he had imagined a few things Father might do if he found out Zuko had left early.

"I know, Azula, but... I have to go. I'm sorry. You don't have to cover for me, I'll be okay." And with that, he turned and hurriedly made his way to the door. Azula nearly followed, but... she couldn't just  leave . Father was expecting her to be here, so here is where she would be. And Zuko was wrong: he wouldn't be okay, and Azula would absolutely have to cover for him. She wasn't even worried about that now -- she could find an excuse. Now that Zuko was gone, Azula was beginning to wonder what had him rushing out on  Father . It must be something with Sokka... Or with Uncle. The thought that either of them -- of Azula's  family  -- were hurt froze the blood in her veins. She felt numb.

Vaguely, she wondered which would be worse: Father finding out Zuko left to see his estranged uncle, or Father finding out Zuko left to see his boyfriend?

Ty Lee was saying something but Azula couldn't hear her. Her blood had unfrozen, pumping faster than before. She felt alert and restless, heart pounding in her ears. She regained some focus just as Ty Lee finished speaking.

"-kay, Azula. Azula?"

"Yes," Azula answered, voice a bit higher than usual but steady as ever. "Of course it's going to be okay."

Chapter Text

"She would never do it."

Uncle hums, thoughtful. They're sitting in the backroom of The Jasmine dragon (or, as Sokka lovingly refers to it, The Jazzy Drag). It's quiet back here, which means Zuko's thoughts are ten times louder.

She’d never go for it. Zuko  knows  that, just like he knows she will inherit the company one day. It's deep in her bones; she's too far gone.

That doesn't mean Zuko gets to stop trying, though. He is her older brother.

"Perhaps not," Iroh muses, "but perhaps she will. Her new friend, Ty Lee..."

Zuko shakes his head. “She’ll just make it worse. Plus, Azula already knows about me."

Uncle considers this. Zuko's right, of course, but... He gets it. He knows why Uncle is offering now, before Azula's ready: the clock is ticking. Zuko and Iroh only have so much time before shit goes down.

For the remainder of his visit, Zuko and Iroh outlined a rough plan to talk to Azula. They couldn’t do it together: that would be too intimidating. It would be too real. No, Zuko would talk to Azula first, then Iroh would talk to her on her weekly visit.

”Wait,” Iroh called to Zuko as he was heading out the door, “Take this, nephew.” And he reached out a wrinkled hand to place a small pai sho tile in Zuko’s outstretched palm.

”What’s this?” He asked, examining the game piece. He was 80% sure it was a white lotus tile, but he’d never paid much attention to the game.

”For good luck,” his uncle assured him, patting his arm. Zuko looked incredulous.

”Okay...” He supposed he could use all the help he could get. 

Azula was sitting at the downstairs kitchen counter. 

That was the first sign.

Azula was always either holed up in her room with Ty Lee or holed up in the attic with Ty Lee. Neither she nor Zuko liked to spend time in the main kitchen— too many bad memories.

Ty Lee wasn’t here. That was the second sign.

Azula might not be consciously aware of her crush, but Zuko knew her instincts would always come through; she would not put Ty Lee, Ozai, and her all in the same room. She had invited Ty Lee to the Candlenights party, but that was different. They were in public, and Ozai was never around the kids then.

And the final confirmation: a sharp voice coming from down the hall, talking to someone on the phone.

Ozai was home.

Zuko wanted to sneak upstairs  so badly , but there was a reason Azula was down here; it’s better to face the music than have the music hunt you down.

He sat down at the counter stool furthest from Azula.

”Hello, Azula.”

”Nice of you to come home, Zuzu. You really spend too much time with Mai.”

Zuko nodded, noting the information Azula had just relayed: Ozai was mad he hadn’t been at the house when he arrived, and Azula had told him he was with Mai. It wasn’t late, and Ozai didn’t have any rules about going out—but he had to be mad about something.

”Zuko,” Ozai’s authoritative voice startled Zuko and his head snapped up to meet golden eyes—a mirror of his own—then quickly looked down. “Nice of you to come home.” The identical word choice would’ve been funny if it wasn’t  Azula  and  Ozai.

“Sorry, Father.”

”Where were you?”

”With Mai, Father.” Zuko worked to keep his voice steady. He had gotten better at lying over the years, but he was no Azula.

Ozai grunted. “Have you eaten?”

No. “Yes, Father.”

”Start studying then. I heard your grade in AP Statistics has slipped to an A-. I expect more from the future leader of my company.”

Schools don’t even have A- or A+ anymore. An A is an A.

”Yes, Father.”

Ozai was leaving again today. Some business deal across the country. Zuko couldn’t care less, as long as he was gone. He’d be back next week for the party, but for now, Zuko was just celebrating the promise of a few days break.

Zuko had just gotten back from Sokka’s. Normally he’d stay over, but not tonight; tonight he would talk to Azula. He couldn’t afford to wait any longer.

Zuko clutched the small pai show tile tightly in his hand and took a deep breath before heading up the stairs to Azula’s room.

The stairway light flicked on. Zuko’s eyes widened as he took in the imposing figure above him.

”Ozai!” Ozai raised his eyebrows threateningly and began to open his mouth. Zuko mentally banged his head against the wall. “I mean- Father. I thought you’d left already.”

Wrong thing to say. Ozai glared harder.

”Really, now? Well, where were you so late?”

”Uh, Mai’s.” Shit. Fuck. Shit. “With Mai,” Zuko amended. Best not to commit to a location.

Ozai looked unimpressed. “What’s in your hand?”

Zuko looked down to where his hand was turning white clenching the game piece. He’d forgotten it was there.

So much for good luck.

Without waiting for a response, Ozai reached down and pried Zuko’s hand open, revealing the tile.

Zuko held his breath, but the blow never came. He hadn’t even yelled. Ozai just studied the tile for a moment, before abruptly heading past Zuko to his room.

What just happened?

Chapter Text

Zuko hadn’t spoken to Azula that night: he couldn’t. Not with Ozai’s presence looming around the corner.

He had to talk to Uncle. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the pai sho tile had been important, that he had betrayed Uncle in some way by letting Ozai take it. He shouldn’t have kept it with him. When had Zuko ever had luck? Uncle is old. Senile, like Azula says. Why did he listen to him?

With Ozai home, Zuko had to be careful if he was going to see Uncle. He couldn’t go after school, or on the weekends—he was away from home too much as it was. Azula might have been able to get away with that (lies slid off her tongue like water), but not Zuko. Besides, he couldn’t leave Azula alone. Not in any circumstance, but certainly not with him.

Zuko was eighteen now. If he missed a few classes, no one would call home. He shared his first two blocks with the rest of the Gaang anyway (that’s what happens when you procrastinate your graduation requirements), and they’d be sure to fill him in.

That’s how Zuko ended up sitting in the passenger seat of his car, fiddling anxiously with the aux chord while his boyfriend drove him to The Jasmine Dragon. Sokka never let Zuko drive if he could help it: it would be frustrating if it didn’t mean Zuko never had to go anywhere without Sokka. And have no doubt—Zuko driving was as terrifying an experience for him as it was for the passenger. His blind eye facing oncoming traffic didn’t help the situation. Maybe he should move to Europe: he would do better driving on the left side of the road.

“It was a pai sho tile?” Sokka clarified for the millionth time that morning. Sokka liked to understand things, and the ambiguity of this situation was very disconcerting for him. It was an issue that occurs often in Zuko’s family: someone disappeared, this person mysteriously died, this person won this competition out of nowhere, this person won the lottery and moved countries—stuff like that. Zuko would bring up these tidbits of his relatives he wasn’t particularly close to when it was relevant to the conversation, then Sokka would go on an internet deep dive to find an explanation. Sometimes he did, but—more often than not—he ended up unsatisfied, with more questions than he had before.

“Yes. White lotus. I think. It’s been a while since I’ve played.” Uncle had tried to get him to pick it up again, but it reminded him too much of those Candlenights—the ones spent with family. They weren’t bad memories; in truth, they were probably the highlights of Zuko’s childhood. Thinking about his mother and his father in the same context was disturbing, though. He liked to keep them separate, but they were both there every Candlenights.

Sokka hummed. “That doesn’t seem bad, right?” he asked, more to himself than to Zuko. “Plenty of people play pai sho. It’s a popular game.”

“Right,” Zuko said, but neither boy was comforted by the statement. They’d both grown close to Iroh in the past two years; Zuko may have been his nephew, but he knew him as well as Sokka when they first reconnected. Since then, they’d visit regularly—and often separately, for their respective advice and guidance. Uncle was Sokka’s uncle, too, in that way. Uncle had even suggested Sokka call him that, but it had been too weird for him to even give it a chance.

On any given morning, The Jasmine Dragon would be bustling with all sorts: college kids, tired parents, old folks, people late for work, etc. The vibrant dragon mural spread across the walls would be lit in the red light from the tacky little lanterns hanging down from the ceiling. Uncle would be in the middle of a life-changing conversation with a stranger, and his only employee—Li—would be rushing around to get everyone’s orders.

The Jasmine Dragon was closed when they arrived. It looked wrong, the little red lanterns unlit, the normally bustling shop now void of life. Zuko felt Sokka shudder beside him. The other boy let out a small gasp and Zuko followed his gaze to the sign above the door.
A banner had been hung over the shop name, covering up “The Jasmine Dragon” with a new message: 
Coming Soon: Keohso Enterprises Information Center

“White lotus…” Sokka muttered to himself as he typed the words. He was sitting on his bed, squinting at the computer resting on his outstretched legs.

“It’s just a pai sho tile, Sokka! You’re not going to find anything,” Zuko spat, pausing his anxious pacing for a moment to face his boyfriend.

Sokka ignored him: he’d long ago become immune to Zuko’s occasional bouts of anger.

“Holy shit, Z. Come look at this.”

Despite Zuko’s outburst that they wouldn’t find anything, he rushed to look over Sokka’s shoulder. On his screen was the website for a nonprofit, their mission statement in large text stating they fight for workers’ rights in third-world countries. Countries like the ones Keohso Enterprises operated in.

And at the top of the page, a name: The White Lotus.

“Holy shit,” Zuko echoed. “Where are they based?” He sat down on the bed next to Sokka, leaning over for a clear view of the screen. 

Scanning the page, Sokka replied, “Not too far from here. About…” He pasted the address into Google, “four hours.”

Zuko groaned and put his head in his hands.

“What does ‘not too far’ mean to you?” he said from between his fingers.

Sokka frowned. “Well-“ he started, before his eyes widened in understanding. “I guess you couldn’t really explain away an 8-hour round trip.”

It wasn’t a question, but Zuko shook his head in confirmation all the same, not bothering to look up.

“I could go. By myself. I mean-“

“No,” Zuko interrupted. He lifted his head, turning to Sokka with pleading eyes. “We don’t know who’s watching you. We don’t know anything about this organization. It’s not safe to go alone. Wait- wait for me, okay? We’ll go after he leaves.”

Sokka pursed his lips but nodded. Zuko studied Sokka. He looked sincere, but-

His phone alarm cut through his thoughts.

“Shit.” Zuko scrambled out of bed and began gathering his stuff. “We need to get back to school, c’mon.”

Sokka closed his laptop and started getting ready to leave, but he seemed lost in thought.

“Sokka?” 

“Hm?” Sokka didn’t look up from where he was shoving his homework in his backpack.

“I love you.”

Sokka looked up and smiled at his boyfriend. “I love you, too.”

Chapter Text

“In your dreams, Zuzu .”

Zuko buried his head in his hands. 

“That is not helpful, Toph.”

Toph grinned at him from the screen of his iPhone. In hindsight, maybe he should’ve called Katara. Or Aang. Or really anyone other than the devil child torturing him now. Katara and Aang were there, somewhere on Toph’s end (Toph, like Zuko, prefered to be anywhere but her home—and unlike Zuko, had no socially awkward sisters to worry about). Toph was at Aang’s house, which might’ve felt like third wheeling if they hadn’t all been friends long before Kataang was a thing, and if she wasn’t Toph .

He knows that any other Gaang member would be too nice, and he needs honest feedback on this speech: there would be no going back after the real thing. As disheartening as Toph’s constant shut-downs were, they were a very probable reaction—and he needed to prepare himself for that. He had no idea how Azula would react. This wasn’t something they’d ever discussed so explicitly—would she be controlled as always? Would it catch her off-guard? It was difficult to imagine Azula being surprised by anything, much less Zuko . He’d always been too predictable.

“What, you want me to lie? You know that’s not my nature, Sparky.”

Says the girl who lies to her parents like it’s a sport. And Toph is very competitive when it comes to sports (or anything, really).

“Some constructive criticism would be nice,” Zuko bemoaned.

“Isn’t that what I just did?”

“ Constructive criticism, Toph. Constructive .” 

Zuko looked over his notes. It was bad, he knew it was bad, but he couldn’t think of anything better. What would be forward enough for the (ostensibly) unfeeling Azula, but kind enough to not send her into panic mode (ie. a mask of cold indifference).

“I thought it was great!” Aang’s voice chimed in the background. Zuko sighed, defeated: anything that worked on the bubbly moral-to-a-fault Aang would surely have the opposite effect on Azula.

“Shut up, Twinkle Toes! You’re not helping. Run it again, Sparky,” Toph commanded.

“From the beginning?” Zuko whined.

“Yes, from the beginning! Are you going to start in the middle when you talk to Azula?”

Hearing Toph call someone by their name was disconcerting, but she didn’t have nicknames for just anyone. Azula would have to earn it, and, in order to do that, she actually had to meet Toph. Which she might do, if Zuko could come up with something at least half-decent.

“Maybe. Nothing else has worked so far.”

“Shut up, Sparky, and read your damn notes.”

Taking in a deep breath (like Uncle had taught him), Zuko began again.

“Hey, Azula, do you have a minute?”

“No,” Toph said flatly, “I’m busy making out with my very platonic best friend.”

“Toph!” Zuko squeaked.

“I’m not Toph, I’m Azula. Who is Toph?” Toph asked innocently, which was not a very accurate Azula impression.

“Azula knows who you are, Toph. You literally go to the same school.”

Toph sighs. “Listen, Sparky, you can’t start a conversation with ‘do you have a minute.’ You might as well say ‘have some anxiety, I’m about to tell you something very serious and scary.’”

“But what if she doesn’t have a minute?” Zuko defended, suddenly protective of his speech. It was the first real feedback Toph had given since the beginning of this call twenty minutes ago, and of course she was right. That didn’t mean Zuko hadn’t hoped at least one of his ideas would be salvageable.

“Sparky, your sister sits at home watching baking shows all day.”

“Fine, okay! I’ll start over.” 

Toph nodded approvingly, and Katara and Aang’s background chatter paused.

“Azula,” Zuko began in monotone, “Dad sucks shit and you should come live with Uncle, because he does not suck shit.”

A beat, to ensure Zuko had indeed finished. Then:

“That was terrible, Sparky. If I were Azula, I would’ve assassinated you and become the sole heir by now.”

“Toph!” Katara cried from the background. Toph just shrugged nonchalantly.

“I mean, you guys know I used to have an older brother, right?” 

Zuko couldn’t see Aang or Katara, but he could picture their expressions clear as day: Katara rolling her eyes, and Aang’s gullible eyes widening as he processed the implications of Toph’s statement.

“Toph, I really need help, okay?”

“Then try!” The short girl exclaimed, her volume pushing the limits of Zuko’s phone speaker.

“Okay,” Zuko conceded. “One more time.”

Toph looked on expectantly as Zuko took a deep breath.

In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.

Azula. His sister. His best friend, his only light in the years following their mother’s death—at least until they got Sokka. The person he knows best, and who knows him best. The person whose existence might as well be illegal in their family, just like his.

The person slowly being destroyed by their father.

Failure was not an option. If Azula refused—well, he’d just have to force her. Her hating him was a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things.

“Azula—” Zuko’s voice broke, and he paused to clear his throat. Closing his eyes, he thought carefully about his next words. 

“Azula, we can’t keep living with Father. It’s not safe here. Uncle has offered to take us in, and I think we should go.”

In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.

“Sure thing, Zuzu! I’m already packed, let’s boogie.”

Zuko startled at Toph’s response. For a moment, he’d forgotten she was there. 

“Short and to the point,” Toph continued, dropping her (very poor) Azula impersonation, “I like it. That one’s good, Sparky.”

“You should make it more personal!” Aang suggested.

“Shut up, Twinkletoes!” Toph called over her shoulder. Turning back to Zuko, she added, “I've never met your sister, but from what I understand, she’d appreciate a more direct approach.”

Zuko nodded absentmindedly, trying to remember the exact phrasing he’d used and write it down.

“Hey,  Sparky?”

“Mmm?” Zuko hummed in response, still scrawling down his speech in neat, slanted writing.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

Chapter Text

“ Okay .”

Okay . That’s all he’d said. Then he’d grabbed his keys and left, Zuko’s eyes trained on the floor the whole time as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. The dark wood grain did contain some interesting shapes, but Sokka doubted he was studying them after 16 years living there. In the rush to leave, he’d left his bag, but he couldn’t even entertain the idea of going back now. His math homework would have to wait.

Zuko had been on edge; after nearly two years of friendship, Sokka could tell that much. He’d always been quick to anger, but he was snapping even more than usual, and he kept scanning the room, jumping at every noise. Sokka had only seen him like this one other time. 

They had been upstairs, as they nearly always were (when they weren’t at Sokka’s house). It was freshman year, and they’d just made the leap from reluctant biology partners to inseparable best friends (an ostensibly strange transition, but once Sokka saw past Zuko’s incredibly angsty exterior, there was no going back). Sokka had never met Zuko’s father. As far as he knew, he was always away on business trips. There were times, though, when Sokka would ask Zuko to come over, and he would respond: “Not today. My father’s home.” My father . Sokka didn’t know a single other person who unironically used “father” instead of “dad.” They had been upstairs, and the sound of the garage door opening rang through the house. Zuko froze, right in the middle of whipping the eggs and sugar. He turned to Sokka, pale as a ghost, and said ominously: “You have to leave.” Sokka, a now-terrified 14-year-old boy, hadn’t asked why. He’d just watched Zuko dump the half-finished dough in the trash and followed him as he hurried downstairs. 

“Welcome home, Father. I didn’t know you were returning today,” he’d said when he reached the bottom of the stairs. Once Sokka had come into view, he’d added, “This is Sokka. He’s a friend from school.”

Ozai wasn’t a tall man; tall genes didn’t seem to be present in this family. He wasn’t tall, but it was difficult to notice that when his presence filled the room all on its own. His glossy black hair was half pulled up in a topknot, the rest flowing down his back. His features were angular like Zuko’s, and he might’ve been handsome if he didn’t have the ugliest frown fixed to his face.

“Good to meet you, Mr. Keohso.”

Zuko’s dad had just wrinkled his nose and turned away.

“He was just leaving,” Zuko said, and pushed Sokka out the door without another word. Sokka kept trying to catch his gaze, but Zuko only had eyes for the dark wood panels lining the floor.

They were going to be upstairs. They were supposed to be upstairs. Sokka just couldn’t help but open his big mouth and point out the considerably larger kitchen on the ground floor was currently free of Zuko’s dad. Zuko hadn’t resisted, because it was Zuko. Sokka could’ve asked him to bake the cookies over open flame and he’d do it without a second thought. So, after nearly two years of friendship, Sokka brought his best friend down to the bigger kitchen, and hadn’t recognized the correlation between Zuko’s growing unease and the new setting. 

This and the events that followed were, of course, all Sokka’s fault. They were teetering on the edge of something, and Sokka just kept pushing Zuko off the side. He’d say he couldn’t help himself, but that wasn’t true. He could help himself, couldn’t he? There were a million things he could’ve done differently, yet he hadn’t: he continued as he always did. And it was selfish. Sokka had friends, he had family, he had people . Who did Zuko have? Who would Zuko have, if Sokka lost him? Azula, maybe, but what was one person in the vast scope of Zuko’s mind? 

Sokka had friends, he had family, and he had Zuko. It was selfish— selfish, why can’t he stop being selfish? —to even consider himself, but Zuko . Sokka had people, but if he didn’t have Zuko, life… Well, everything would be a few shades duller. Every chocolate chip cookie would taste a little bitter. His closet would be half empty, the clothes he had accumulated from Zuko gone. The Gaang would be imbalanced without their awkward emo, and Sokka would be imbalanced without his best friend. But Sokka hadn’t thought of that, he hadn’t thought of anything, just trying to bring out Zuko’s sweet smile with his dumb teasing.

And now he was no longer with Zuko, sitting alone in his driveway (when did he get home? Sokka didn’t remember the commute at all) trying not to honk the horn as he rested his head on the wheel. 

After nearly two years of friendship, Sokka was in love with his best friend. After nearly two years of friendship, his best friend was in love with him.

At least, he thought so. Aang, the most oblivious person Sokka knew, had even agreed, so he was fairly sure at this point. 

Zuko had never come out to him as bi, though. Or pan, or poly, or whatever he was. He could be gay—Toph insisted he was—despite the girlfriends he’d had. Did he even know? Sokka had resolved himself to waiting, but Zuko seemed to be in so much pain. Would it help to talk about it?

Considering the events of the afternoon, probably not.

He didn’t know how Zuko’s dad would feel about it—he’d never even seen the man for more than two minutes at a time. He couldn’t imagine it’d be the ideal reaction, not when Azula and Zuko avoided their father like the plague. Not physically—when he was home, they were home. But verbally, he was never mentioned.

Sokka had never asked Zuko how he’d gotten that scar, and Zuko had never told him. It could’ve been an accident. It had to have been an accident. But he was only 16–and only 14 when they met. What situations are there to get a scar like that coming up naturally in the first 14 years of someone’s life?

Sokka wasn’t sure why he was thinking of that now. Or rather, he was, but didn’t want to consider the implications. At least not today.

Sokka loved Zuko, and he would be here for him in whatever form Zuko wanted: if that meant remaining his comic-relief best friend, then so be it.

Chapter Text

“I’m not lying ,” Sokka insisted. Aang raised an eyebrow.

“I’m omitting the truth ,” Sokka said. Aang’s eyebrows remained high on his face.

“Lie of omission, like Elliot Page said,” Aang points out (figuratively and physically, as he pokes an accusing finger at his best friend). “Just as bad. Plus, you promised you wouldn’t go alone.”

“I’m not going alone!” Sokka said, throwing his hands up from where they’d been tightly gripping the steering wheel, “you’re here, aren’t you?”

Aang did not look impressed. “I have a feeling I’m not exactly what he had in mind. Didn’t he specifically say,” Aang pulls a dramatic face and looks mournfully into the distance, “‘ Wait for me, Sokka .’”

He did say that. Sokka knows that—after all, he was the one that told Aang. 

Zuko had told him to wait. Sokka had begrudgingly agreed. Now Sokka was in a car with his other best friend, on his way to White Lotus headquarters: inarguably, not waiting. 

Sokka wishes he could say this was a spur-of-the-moment, window-of-opportunity, teenage-impulsive-decision situation. But this was Sokka, would anyone even believe him? That was more Zuko’s style; Sokka, on the other hand, had been planning this—regrettably—ever since he’d learned about the White Lotus—even before Zuko asked him not to go. Zuko couldn’t leave, not with Ozai home. Knowing that, Sokka had immediately begun preparations for an Aang/Sokka road trip (no, not an Aang/Sokka road trip—a road trip including both Aang and Sokka ). Choosing a time when Zuko wouldn’t be around was easy, which just made Sokka feel worse. Sneaking off was one thing, but just meandering away while your boyfriend can’t leave his house? All he had to do was rope Aang into a day trip—easy enough, Aang was way too nice to refuse—and pick a day where Zuko wouldn’t be able to use his phone (Sokka was not about to text and drive, but if it was Zuko texting… He doesn’t even know if he’d make an exception, because normally Zuko knows when he’s driving and he’ll wait or just call instead. Normally, Zuko is with him).

Zuko had attended his father’s company Candlenights party every year Sokka had known him, and every year before. In freshman year, Sokka had been jealous Zuko had taken Mai and not him. Now, he knew how ridiculous that was—considering both Zuko and Mai are gay—but it’s still a sensitive topic. Sokka knows he can’t come and will never press the issue—considering how it could potentially hurt Zuko very much—but Zuko knows Sokka wants to go and is hurt anyway because he can’t take him.

It’s just a boring company party. He knows it’s just a boring company party. But it’s the principle of the thing: Zuko joins Sokka at his obligatory family functions, but Sokka has never been to even one of Zuko’s (to be fair, they don’t seem to have many).

The general acrimony and mutual guilt surrounding this Candlenights party makes Sokka’s betrayal (yikes, that’s a strong word—how about Sokka’s lie of omission ?) ten times worse—but it had to be today. 

Sokka shook his head to clear his thoughts. “It’s not like you’ve never lied to Katara, Mr. High -and-Mighty.”

“I haven’t,” Aang said, Sokka’s play on words going right over his head.

“‘Of course I don’t smoke, Katara! I would never keep such an unhealthy habit!’” Sokka says in his best Aang impression (which sounds a lot like his Katara impression—and his Toph impression, and his Azula impression, and his Suki impression, and… well, you get the picture: Aang has a high (heh) voice, and Sokka is bad at impressions).

Aang blushes and slouches back in his seat. “She knows now . Plus, it’s weed, not nicotine. And I don’t even do it that much.”

“Preaching to the choir, man,” Sokka says, then tilts his head, “although, that is a pretty weak argument.”

Aang just crosses his arms. Putting his feet on the dash, he nods towards Sokka’s hands, which have returned to their iron grasp on the wheel, “That doesn’t look like ten and two.”

“Put your feet down.”

Iroh was Zuko’s uncle.

Iroh was Zuko’s uncle, but Sokka knew him just as well. Young Zuko’s encounters with the man didn’t exactly “ count ,” as they were brief and infrequent; really, Sokka and Zuko began their respective relationships with Iroh at the same time. Sokka didn’t need him, didn’t depend on Iroh like Zuko did—Sokka did have two supportive fathers at home—but he had still gone back, week after week. It started as a joint activity. Zuko would head to The Jasmine Dragon, and Sokka would go with him because Zuko was “too awkward to deal with him alone.” After the first few visits, though, Zuko had adjusted enough to face his uncle alone, and Sokka found himself venturing to the tea shop solo. Since then, Sokka had become a pai sho master (Sokka’s words, but Iroh hadn’t objected. How could he, after just getting his ass kicked?) and absorbed so much advice his brain was like a supersaturated tea-soaked sponge.

Sokka had to make sure he was okay. For Iroh, for Zuko… and also for himself.

The trip was uneventful. Or rather, the events of the trip were all expected and accounted for: they stopped twice for Aang to pee and get a snack (on a four hour drive), Aang queued fourteen Hosier songs in a row (then seven Cavetown—he didn’t even have the decency to shuffle them together), and—once they arrived—they drove around looking for the headquarters for twenty minutes before realizing they had to go up a driveway.

A long driveway; they must have driven another fifteen minutes on the winding gravel.

When they finally reached the building, it didn’t look how Sokka had expected. If Sokka were given the task of designing a headquarters (which, as an aspiring industrial designer, he feels prepared for—a building can’t be that much different than a product), he would have incorporated sharp corners, sleek surfaces: a real modern, clean aesthetic. However, he can see how the cottage-style building in front of him is more Iroh’s speed.

He parks in a place that feels the least intrusive (as there are no designated parking spots) and turns off the car.

“Well?” Aang prompts after a stagnant minute.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Sokka says, answering a question Aang didn’t ask, and detaches himself from the steering wheel to head inside.

Chapter Text

It seemed a little intrusive, just walking in. 

Sokka and Aang had been standing awkwardly outside the front entrance for at least two full minutes. Sokka wasn’t sure why he’d expected someone to just open the door to welcome them, but it felt odd to ring the doorbell as if it was just an ordinary home. Aang, who was shifting back and forth and scratching his neck—the picture of discomfort—obviously felt similarly.

A ringing cut through the thick silence, causing both boys to jump.

“Oh, that’s—” Sokka drew his vibrating phone from his pocket, “I’d better—”

“Yeah, for sure, go ahead,” Aang nodded, then returned to staring at his feet.

Sokka didn’t need to look at the caller ID to know who it was: he’d customized Zuko’s ringtone long ago.

“Hey, babe. How are you?” Sokka said, wandering a little ways from Aang and kicking at the gravel.

“ Well—not great. You know. ”

“Yeah, I know,” Sokka sighed, “What are you doing?” How are you able to call me? was the unspoken question, but Zuko heard it anyway.

“ He’s in his office on a business call. Azula and I are in the attic. Oh yeah, Azula’s here. ”

“ You’re on speaker ,” Azula’s sharp voice called through Sokka’s phone. Then she added in a mutter, “ dumbasses .”

“Hey Zuzu! How’s Ty Lee?”

“ How should I know? ”

Sokka flinched and pulled his android away from his ear as Zuko’s default iPhone ringtone (he doesn’t know how to change it, but he won’t let Sokka touch it) blared through the speakers.

“ Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I gotta go, Sokka. He’s calling, I think he wants me to sit in on his meeting. Here, talk to Azula. ”

“Bye, babe!” Sokka calls over the loud shuffling coming from the other end. Once it settles down, he assumes Azula has accepted the phone. 

“So what’s up, Zuzu? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the party with Ty Lee by now?” Azula says she’s “above” all that—taking a long time to get ready is part of her extensive list of “weak” characteristics—but Sokka knows how she loves cultivating her appearance, and that takes time. Ty Lee is just along for the ride.

“ Why are you assuming I’ve invited Ty Lee? ”

“You didn’t invite Ty Lee?” Sokka exclaimed. Back on the porch, Aang looked up from his Converse to raise an eyebrow at Sokka.

Despite all of Azula’s odd habits and mannerisms, he hadn’t expected that—not in a million years; the pair was inseparable.

“ Of course I invited Ty Lee. ” Azula said, her defensive tone only raising Sokka’s suspicions. Azula was normally much more calculated than this: she wanted Sokka to notice something.

“Okay…” Sokka considered his next words, “Why would you not invite Ty Lee?”

“ I did ,” Azula shot.

“Then why are we talking about this?”

“ I’ve… prepared a message to uninvite her .” Sokka had never heard Azula sound anything less than confident—and he still hadn’t, but she was getting dangerously close.

“Why?”

“ We always go together. It’s a boring event. Why not mix it up? ”

Oh. 

Oh.

Sokka wasn’t sure if Azula’s newfound paranoia was a good or bad sign. 

Well, safety first.

“Zuzu, if you don’t think she should come, that’s okay—”

“ Of course that’s okay, ” Azula scoffed.

“ But , Azula… no one… No one would—would know .”

Azula was silent for a moment. Then, in the least convincing tone she’d adopted this whole conversation, she said, “ I don’t know what you’re talking about .”

“Do what you think is best,” Sokka conceded. “You know better than I do. But, Zuzu, I know she wants to go. She’d go to an accountant convention if you’d be there, too.”

Azula took another moment—it was rare for her to spend this much time preparing her words. 

“ I’ll just bring her. Disinviting her would be a whole thing, this is much more practical .”

Right.

“Right.”

“ Right. Well, I’m going to watch The Office—Zuzu refuses to watch it with me, he’s conflict-averse .”

“Checks out. Tell Michael I say hi. Love you, Zuzu.”

“ Whatever, Sokka .” Then, nearly inaudible: “ Love you .”

Sokka smiled to himself and headed back to where Aang was staring at him from the porch.

“Was that Zuko?” Aang asked (and Sokka did not appreciate the heavy apprehension in his voice).

“Azula,” Sokka corrected, not pausing another moment before swinging open the front door. “Let’s go.”

The inside of the White Lotus Headquarters matched its exterior: home-y and simple, with a touch of something that can only be described as “old.” It wasn’t a bad thing—on the contrary, it was quite comforting. 

Sokka was feeling good about his decision to waltz in until he saw the photos. They weren’t big—Sokka wouldn’t have even noticed them if they weren’t pictures of Zuko and Azula. There were two framed photos: in one, Zuko and Azula were toddlers, probably around two and four years old. The other was more recent—although still fairly old. It was a clipping from a middle school newsletter, featuring Zuko, Azula, and the rest of the cast of whatever play was performed. Zuko hadn’t acted in any high school plays. He looked happy.

Sokka had never seen Zuko without his scar. He looked so young—he was young. He still is; they both are. It was easy to forget that sometimes.

Sokka notices other pictures, too—of people Sokka doesn’t recognize. That’s when he starts to regret barging in; it might be a business, but it felt like a home. Before Sokka could grab Aang—who was transfixed on the photos as well—and backtrack, he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Sokka!” 

Sokka turned to see Iroh, alive and well, grinning like Sokka had just walked in for tea and a chat. Which, he supposed, wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

“Iroh! What are you doing here? Are you okay?” Sokka said, then added, “We were so worried,” just to guilt him. Judging by the way Iroh’s smile fell, it had worked.

Aang, ever the kind one (why can’t he just let Sokka be passive aggressive?), butted in before Iroh could answer.

“Hey Iroh! I’m Aang, nice to meet you! Cool place you got here.”

“Thank y—” Iroh began, but there was no time for small talk ; Sokka would not stand for this.

“What happened to the shop, Iroh?” Sokka interrupted. “What did Ozai do?”

Iroh winced. “Perhaps it’s better if we sit down.”

One boiled tea kettle and perfectly-timed steep later, Aang, Sokka, and Iroh were all sitting around a rickety table, leaf juice in hand. It took all of Sokka’s willpower to not rock the old table back and forth on its uneven legs.

Irohset down his tea and began.

“When my brother inherited the company instead of me—”

“Wait,” Sokka cut in, “I’m still confused about that. Why did Ozai get the company over you?”

“That’s another story entirely,” Iroh said. He looked down at the table with sad eyes. After a moment of silence, he continued:

“No more interruptions,” Iroh looked up at Sokka, who shrugged—trying to figure out what could be in “another story entirely” that would make Iroh so upset. “When my brother inherited the company instead of me, I had to find a different way to change their operations. So, a couple of old friends and I founded the White Lotus. Of course, it didn’t take long for Ozai to find our organization and figure out who was behind it—luckily, as a public figure, there wasn’t much he could do.”

“But what about the tea shop?” Sokka said impatiently. Aang shushed him.

“I believe I said no more interruptions,” Iroh said, glaring at Sokka, “but, yes, I assume my brother caught wind of my reconnection with his children. Not long after speaking to Zuko about his sister, I came to work to find Ozai’s goonies already there. I had to concede, or there would be consequences for Zuko.”

“There probably will be anyway,” Aang muttered—ostensibly very uncharacteristic of the overly-kind and respectful boy, but he could be very aggressive when it came to his friends. If Iroh heard him, though, he didn’t show it.

“The pai sho tile,” Sokka said. “We were right, it was the fucking pai sho tile. Why did you give it to him?”

Sokka wasn’t proud of lashing out at his grand-uncle figure (yes, Iroh is the actual uncle of Zuko, who is Sokka’s age, but he’s just so old —when Sokka thinks of an uncle, he pictures Bato (who he no longer calls Uncle Bato; he’d switched to just Bato, Dad Bato, Dad 2.0, and other variants since the wedding), not a 60-something year old). However, not giving Zuko the emblem of the organization his father loathes without even telling him what it meant just seemed like a no-brainer. Especially when it was Zuko—spirits, Sokka loves him to death, but (bless his heart) the man has no tact. Iroh, recognizing this (too late), winces.

“In hindsight, it was probably not the wisest decision.”

“ Probably? ” Sokka criticized.

“Sokka, shut up,” Aang said, nudging him with his elbow, “the man is clearly in distress.”

The old bag sitting across the table was clearly in distress, but Sokka couldn’t bring himself to care when he was in so much more distress. They were wasting valuable time; Sokka had to get back to Zuko. 

“We gotta go, Aang.” Sokka stood, pushing his chair out dramatically as he did so. “Oh, shit, sorry,” he added hurriedly as he righted the ancient piece of furniture. “Okay. Now we’re going.”

“Bye, Iroh! It was nice to meet you!” Aang called as Sokka dragged him out of the house. “Say bye, bitch,” he added to Sokka.

“You say bye,” Sokka shot back instinctively, then, in embarrassment: “Bye, Iroh! We’ll tell Zuko you say hi!”

“Sokka!” Iroh said, and rushed to catch up to the boys (who were quickly egressing). “Sokka,” Iroh pressed a small wooden circle into his palm, “take this.”

Sokka didn’t need to look down at the pai sho tile in his hand to know what it was. He did anyway.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Iroh? No!”

“Breathe,” Aang reminded him.

Sokka took a breath. “Iroh, I think it’s best you keep these to yourself for now, okay? We’re leaving now, and I’ll let Zuko know you’re okay.”

Sokka didn’t wait for a response before hauling Aang back to the car.

They were at an intersection when it happened.

“You got a text,” Aang remarked as he scrolled through Spotify (totally messing up Sokka’s future Spotify recommendations with his dumb Indie music).

“From who?” Sokka asked absentmindedly, mind partially focused on the road but mostly zoned out.

“Zuko,” Aang answered. Sokka’s head shot up.

“Give it,” he said, reaching over to grab at his phone, which Aang pulled away from him.

“No, bitch.”

“Why do you keep calling me bitch? You’ve been hanging around Toph too much.”

“Whatever, bitch.”

Sokka sighed and retracted his arm. “Well, tell him I’m driving, then.”

“He won’t be suspicious?” Aang asked incredulously.

“People drive places, Aang. It’s not weird.”

“Okay,” Aang said in that if-you-say-so tone. Bitch.

The light turned green.

“Go, bitch,” Aang commanded.

“Fine, bitch,” Sokka retorted, and pressed on the gas.

That was the last thing he remembered before everything went black.

Chapter Text

Ozai was home.

Ozai was home because it was Candlenights, and he liked to pretend that still meant something to him. 

Really, he just wanted to show off his children at the annual company Candlenights party. It makes customers feel a connection with us , he’d said. It makes us more approachable. It was baffling to think anyone could find Ozai approachable —no amount children could change that. Mother had, once upon a time, but he hadn’t even been CEO then. Zuko thought that might be why Ozai made him come, despite being the constant dead weight dragging down the family name: if he couldn’t have Ursa, Zuko was the next best thing.

Mother would follow the Candlenights traditions religiously (ironic for a non-denominational celebration). The flexible nature of the holiday meant Mother had made up her own—decorating the Candlenights Bush (that was a common one), making turtleduck loaves (bread rolls shaped like turtleducks), a bake-off between her, Zuko, and Azula, and Terry the Non-Denominational Gift Delivery Dragon (which Azula had never believed in, and Zuko had tried his best to believe in despite Ozai’s constant commentary on the ridiculousness of the tradition).

Every year since Mother’s death, Zuko made sure he and Azula did at least one of the traditions. The Candlenights Bush was rare, as it was the hardest to hide—and the most expensive; most years they did a bake-off. It wasn’t so much a competition (who would judge?) as a distraction from the man looking over their shoulders. Zuko tended to avoid the turtleduck loaves. The first Candlenights without Mother, he had scrawled down what he remembered of the recipe and snuck up to the attic to bake them. He thought it would remind him of Mother. It did: evidently, a little too much, and he’d ended up in a ball in the corner of the kitchen—dough half-made—where Azula found him. 

Since then, Zuko had stuck to bake-offs and occasionally a Candlenights Bush when Ozai was away longer. This year was different, though: it had to be different. It was the same when Zuko dragged Azula to the attic while Ozai was on a call. It was the same when Azula complained about how stupid he was being but still went along with it. 

It was different when Zuko pulled out the tear-stained recipe for turtleduck loaves he’d written all those years ago. It was different when Azula said Sokka should be here with them.

Sokka couldn’t be here, of course, but Zuko had the next best thing.

“Hey, babe. How are you?” Sokka’s voice rang through the small room. Azula rolled her eyes, but the traces of a smile danced on her lips—which, for Azula, was the equivalent of Zuko’s grin.

“Well—not great. You know,” Zuko replied. Azula raised and eyebrow at him, as if Ozai could hear them up here.

“Yeah, I know,” Sokka paused, and Zuko knew he was wondering how Zuko was calling him with Ozai home. “What are you doing?”  

“He’s in his office on a business call,” Zuko answered. “Azula and I are in the attic. Oh yeah, Azula’s here.”

“You’re on speaker,” Azula berated. Under her breath, she added, “dumbasses.”

“Hey Zuzu! How’s Ty Lee?”

“How should I know?”

Zuko winced. Something was happening there, he knew, but should he ask? What was the right thing to do so she wouldn’t feel trapped?

Zuko’s thoughts were interrupted by his obnoxious ringtone. The name Ozai flashed on the screen; Azula sent him a look and mouthed, “ Ozai? ” Zuko shrugged noncommittally and hurried towards his phone, which he’d set on the counter.

Ozai had mentioned something about Zuko sitting in on calls to “absorb some business skills. Agni knows you’ll need all the help you can get.”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I gotta go, Sokka. He’s calling, I think he wants me to sit in on his meeting. Here, talk to Azula,” Zuko shoved the phone at his sister and rushed down the stairs. Faintly, he heard Sokka call a goodbye.

Ozai’s meetings were always more interesting than Zuko wanted them to be. He wanted to be apathetic to the discussion, an engaged but silent face in the mix. He was silent now—and he was engaged. But apathy was far from the extensive range of emotions Zuko felt.

Zuko had studied. Zuko had been studying. He knew the language, he knew the tactics, he knew the ins and outs: Zuko knew Keohso Enterprises. 

Azula would be much better at this job.

The unaffected way Ozai and his colleagues spoke about manipulating the consumer, about their factories abroad—Zuko wasn’t built for this. That used to make him angry. Now, Zuko was glad he was leaving this all behind next year.

Talk to me, I’m bored.

“You doing okay?” Mai murmured to Zuko as she clung to his arm.

“Yeah,” Zuko nodded, sending his text to Sokka and putting his phone down to look at Mai. “Ready for him to leave.”

Mai hummed in response, leaning closer to Zuko for his “natural body heat.”

Ty Lee was sticking to Azula koala-style as always, and Azula was trying very hard not to move. Zuko sighed and took out his phone again; there was only so much Oblivious Azula he could handle (especially after years of Oblivious Sokka).

Have you seen Sokka today?

Zuko frowned at the text from Katara. She knew he hadn’t, so why was she asking?

No, but I called him this morning. Why?

Then:

Is he okay?

Probably. Just wondering , came Katara’s response, which was far too ominous for Zuko’s liking.

Zuko’s frown deepened, and he clicked on Sokka’s profile. He hadn’t answered the text, but that wasn’t too unusual. Sokka always silenced his phone to do homework—and his AP Physics ass had a lot of homework. He stared for a few more minutes, to pass the time more than anything, before receiving an update from Katara.

Aang just called. Sokka’s in the hospital.

Zuko’s phone blew up with that obnoxious default ringtone.

"Shit! Shit. I have to take this. I'll be right back," Zuko was already out the door.

“What happened?” Zuko demanded when he picked up.

“He got in an accident—he’s fine. Aang says he’s fine.” Katara’s shaky voice softened the edge to Zuko’s panic-driven anger enough for him to take up a less afronting tone.

“A car accident? What hospital? I’m on my way,” Zuko responded in quick succession. He was going to take care of his idiot, goddamnit.

“I—the one in town. Zuko, if you can’t go, he’ll understand. He really is okay. They’re only keeping him in case he shows symptoms of a concussion. That’s what Aang said.”

“I’m on my way,” Zuko repeated.

He’ll understand.

He would, but Zuko didn’t. Didn’t understand why he couldn’t be there. Didn’t understand how living in such a large house could make him feel so small.

Sokka would understand.

But Zuko was going anyway.

Chapter Text

Zuko felt someone prod his arm. He kept his eyes gently shut and his breathing even to maintain the appearance of the sleeping boy he’d been just moments ago. 

There was only one person who could be poking him awake, though, and she was not so easily fooled. Besides, when had Sleeping Zuko ever had gently closed eyes or even breathing?

“ Zuko! ” Azula hissed. Zuko said nothing. He was tired— spirits , he was so tired. His body ached all over. He imagined this is how one might feel if they were hurled down a cliff and survived: tired, aching, and broken. He supposed it had only been a matter of time before his inner pain infiltrated his physical being.

As Zuko began to truly wake up and come into his body, he could pinpoint the worst of the pain. His left eye throbbed relentlessly—the entire left side of his face was in agony. From his right, his ear honed in on an incessant beeping: a regular blip that refused to die out, second after second.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Zuko got lost in the noise, waiting for it to cease—convinced each beep would be the last, only to be proven wrong each time. He felt his fist tighten and his nostrils flare as the sound refused to end. It would follow him, he knew, to the ends of the earth.

“Zuko,” Azula sing-songed, shaking Zuko from the trance induced by the hypnotic rhythm. 

A bright white light blinded Zuko as his right eye was pried open by the nimble fingers of his little sister. For a moment, Zuko thought he had made it to the afterlife.

Then his eye adjusted to the hospital fluorescents, and it all came back to him.

The company. The yelling. The fight.

Burning.

Suddenly, the constant beeping of the heart monster wasn’t so irritating. Zuko thanked Agni it continued its song, however monotone. 

Zuko sat up. He didn’t dare attempt to open his left eye; even if he did, he would only see the inside of a bandage—if he was lucky. When time comes for the bandage to be shed, would he be able to see anything at all? Zuko raised tentative fingers to his face, but a hand caught his wrist before he could make contact. Zuko looked up into Azula’s steady gaze as she led his arm back to his side.

The last time he’d been here, it was for her birth. Being only two years older, he couldn’t pretend to remember much from it, but there were certain things he could never— would never—forget. (There were also certain things he had already forgotten, and there were certain things he had forgotten that he had forgotten. Those lost memories would haunt him, and he clung to the scraps he had left.)

Zuko’s nervous hands as his baby sister curled her five of her fingers around one of his. Mother’s smile. The name Azula imbued with the warmth of Mother’s voice. 

The distinct lack of Father, making the memory brighter. Happier. 

It should have stayed that way—the three of them against the world. Against Father . But Mother had given up, and it had descended to two-on-two-on-two: Mother and Zuko against Father and Azula against Zuko and Azula: two siblings fabricating a world where they were their own family, one that functioned on baking shows and post-nightmare cuddles. 

Azula’s amber eyes were too sharp for an eleven-year-old. She scrutinized him from her perch on the chair next to his bed. 

“Azula—”

The younger girl cut Zuko off by clamoring into the small bed with him. Zuko winced but made room, scooting the short distance to the left edge. Azula lay flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Zuko mirrored her. 

A small, thin hand slid into Zuko’s, under the cover.

Azula’s exaggerated breathing cut through the blanket of silence.

In, two, three, four

Out, two, three, four

Zuko synced his breath to hers, his unintentional death-grip on her hand loosening.

And they breathed. For what could have been minutes or hours, they just breathed. Zuko closed his eyes, not thinking, refusing to think. It wasn’t productive to be thinking right now: after thirteen years, Zuko knew how to keep going.

Azula moved first. She sat up, Zuko following, and—without a word—pulled up Cupcake Wars on her phone.

They sat there, together, the phone resting between them as they curled around it, until the sun left and the fluorescents were all that lit the room. 

The phone ringing cut through the air—not like Azula’s breathing, but something jagged and malicious. It was expected, but that didn’t make it any less startling. Azula shut off the phone (he was calling in lieu of a “here” text; he never meant for her to pick up) and slid out of bed. She walked purposefully towards the exit but hesitated at the door. She turned, her usually narrowed eyes wide, the way they were on those late nights. Her eyes could say a thousand words, but Zuko couldn’t see them. His right eye had never been the good one. So instead of reading, Zuko wrote his own one thousand words, and prayed that she could see them even with one of his golden canvases out of commission.

She was only eleven. He was only thirteen. The numbers seemed so ridiculously small, as the years dragged on—slow and painful. They’d lived this long and had less than fourteen years to show for it, and that didn’t seem fair.

Azula was still at the door. Her knuckles were white on the doorframe, grip so tight, as if her slender fingers were tethered her there: if she let go, she’d fly away.

Azula turned away, resuming her quick pace but not before letting out a soft: “Goodnight, Zuzu.”

Chapter Text

Zuko was allowed to drive.

Legally. He had his after-nine license and everything.

When Zuko had arrived at Drivers Ed, the instructor had pulled him aside and gently let him know he may not be eligible for a learners permit, depending on how much (or, more accurately, how little ) he could see and hear out on his left side. Zuko, in the monotone of a child repeating what he’d been told, reassured the teacher that he was not hearing or sight impaired in the least.

The driving portion of Drivers Ed had been a struggle. This instructor was an older person—one with less hope for the world, who didn’t comment on Zuko’s erratic driving. Instead, they just kept a steady hand on the wheel and their foot on the passenger-side brake.

Zuko hadn’t taken the driving test. He hadn’t even done the eye exam. Ozai had handed him his license on his sixteenth birthday, and Zuko had learned not to question these things.

Zuko was allowed to drive, but Zuko could not drive. He didn’t really have to, these days. Sokka drove him most places, and now that Azula had a license and a car she didn’t need him to chauffeur. If Sokka couldn’t give him a ride, Azula would reluctantly step up, her sisterly care proving stronger than her will to stay home.

But Sokka was in the hospital, and Azula was at the Candlenights party. It was all up to Zuko now.

He should’ve taken Mai. Why didn’t he take Mai?

It was too late now. Zuko had to get to Sokka, and he was not going to turn back now. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t a long commute. Sokka would kill him for driving alone if Zuko wasn’t going to kill him first for getting himself landed in the hospital. 

Predicting that parking would be a nightmare (and wanting to spend the least amount of time driving as possible), Zuko parked far from the Emergency Room entrance and sprinted the rest of the way. 

Katara was waiting for him at the door.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” she said into his dress shirt as she pulled him into a hug. Her face was wet with tears, and it seeped through the thin material. “Did you drive here alone? Sokka’s gonna kill you.”

“He’s awake?” Zuko said, pulling away from Katara’s warm but crushing embrace.

Katara nodded, “I told you, he’s okay. Broken wrist and a hell of a bruise, but okay.”

Zuko breathed out a sigh of relief. “Can I see him?”

Sokka was sitting up in a hospital bed, eating a push-pop. A bright blue cast encased his left wrist and an even more colorful bruise adorned his forehead. From a certain angle, Zuko could see the raised bump to go along with it.

When Zuko walked in, Sokka turned to him and grinned.

“Zuko!” he stretched his arms out and made a grabby motion with his fingers. 

“Is he on drugs?” Zuko asked, complying with Sokka’s gesture and approaching the bedridden teen.

“No,” Katara huffed (Zuko could practically hear the eye roll), “he’s just like that.”

“It’s the placebo effect,” Sokka whispered, yanking Zuko’s arm down so he was closer to his ear. “Sitting in a hospital bed just makes you feel loopy.”

“That has not been my experience,” Zuko countered. “I think this one’s just you.”

Sokka shrugged. Then he frowned.

“Wait, Zuko, what are you doing here?”

Zuko grimaced. “Well—”

Katara cleared her throat, “And this is my queue to leave. Have fun chatting, boys, and call me when you’re done.” She cracked her knuckles. “I’m going to go find Aang.”

“It wasn’t his fault!” Sokka called to his sister as she exited, but there was no diminishing the wrath of Katara. Zuko was sure Sokka had already faced it—and would probably face it again once he got released from the ER. “Oh well, I tried,” Sokka sighed, staring at the empty doorway a moment longer before returning to Zuko. “What are you doing here?” he repeated.

“What, you don’t want your boyfriend here to support you in this strenuous time?” Zuko asked innocently, a tone he could never quite pull off but had witnessed Azula do successfully enough times to keep trying. Sokka raised an eyebrow.

“What about—”

“I have it sorted,” Zuko lied. It was a bad lie—deception was not his strong suit—but Sokka respected the effort enough to drop it.

“Come here,” Sokka scooted over and patted the empty bed space beside him. Zuko hopped onto the covers and leaned his head against Sokka’s shoulder instinctually. It felt safe here—a warm nook in a cold, unforgiving place; Zuko had just begun to drift off when Sokka spoke, shaking him from his near-sleep.

“Your uncle’s okay.”

Zuko sat up. “What?”

Sokka took a deep breath and set down the remains of his frozen treat on the table next to him. Zuko waited expectantly.

“So… I know I promised I wouldn’t go to the White Lotus alone. But. I did.” Sokka had his eyes shut tight, face contorted in an apologetic but extremely pained manner. 

The car crash. Of course. Before Zuko could draw any other conclusions, Sokka continued.

“Well, I brought Aang. The point is—your uncle’s okay. He left because Ozai’s men threatened him with you , and so he went to his headquarters to lie low for a while.” Sokka peeked one eye open. “I’m sorry.”

“Sokka, when did you get in the accident?”

Sokka’s pained expression fell in surprise: he had clearly been expecting a different reaction. 

“Um… On the way back? Near Person Street. I don’t remember exactly how long ago that was,” Sokka admitted. “Why?”

Zuko bit his lip and glared at the floor.

Of course it was him. Zuko should’ve known the moment he got the call; it was the same way Mother and Grandfather had gone. Ozai had probably known all along—and that fucking pai sho tile. How could Zuko have been so stupid? He knew how powerful Ozai was, yet he continued to underestimate him time and time again—and each mistake costed his family. His real family: Sokka and Azula. The rest of the Gaang, too. He knew , but he’d continued to live his life like he always had. He couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t keep doing this . 

Something had to give. Either Zuko had to cut off all his friends and family, become the man Ozai wanted him to be, or he could do something drastic. Something irreversible. Something that would cause Ozai to finally give up on his firstborn—and draw enough attention that he couldn’t retaliate.

“What? What are you doing?” Sokka asked as Zuko pulled out his phone, growing increasingly anxious every moment Zuko remained silent.

Zuko looked up at his boyfriend, eyes shining with steely determination. 

“I’m coming out.”

Chapter Text

Zuko never came back to the party.

For once, Azula didn’t know what to say. She was out of lies.

She could have had Mai leave and said Zuko had taken her home because she felt sick. Ozai would’ve made a tasteless joke about teenage pregnancies and left it at that. She could have said Zuko remembered a homework assignment due midnight and left to complete it. She could have said he ruined his shirt and gone home to change. 

Azula could have said a lot of things, but Zuko had taken them all from her—without even uttering a word. Azula couldn’t lie, because Zuko had told the truth.

Zuko Keohso (He/Him/His)

Tweeted 21:47

I am gay. I’ve known for a long time, but only recently had the courage to say it. I am gay, and I won’t let anyone take that identity from me. Thank you to every teacher, every friend, every person who has supported me throughout the years—I couldn’t have done this without you.

Every person. At least he had the sense to leave Azula out of this.

It’s funny how quickly news can spread. One moment, Azula was waiting anxiously with Ty Lee and Mai—the three of them tucked away in the corner—and the next Ty Lee was tapping her shoulder, showing her a screenshot of a tweet some cheerleader had posted on their Instagram story. All around them, guests had their heads buried in their phones, completely consumed by this message that had been released to the public.

Father was a businessman—a crooked politician of sorts—so the party went on. There were whispers, but nothing more; it was just a tweet. It was just a kid. No one could really care more than that: no one but Father.

When the party ended, Father drove Azula home, staying silent for the duration. He had to drop off Ty Lee and Mai as well—Zuko was supposed to be their ride home. No one said a word; the tension was palpable.

Zuko’s car isn’t there when they get home. Neither is Zuko. Azula doesn’t hesitate a moment before heading to her room.

“Wait,” Father commanded. “I need to speak to you.” He gestured to the dining room seats, and Azula followed him to the table and sat across from his expressionless face. Azula mirrored it.

“Your brother is not fit to run this company. You are now the sole heir to Keohso Enterprises, as well as my estate. Your brother may continue to live here until he begins his first term of college or he may choose to stay elsewhere. It is not my concern and it is not your concern.”

Father’s words were commanding, resolute. As if he hadn’t come to this decision mere hours ago. Maybe he hadn’t. Azula always had a better head for business; Zuko was too soft. It was meant to be this way. Azula was meant to run this company. Father was finally recognizing that her potential far surpassed Zuko’s.

Azula didn’t have to school her expression into one of apathy upon hearing the news, though. That was all she felt.

“I understand, Father,” Azula rose from her chair. “Goodnight.”

Azula had a floor to herself. It wasn’t a large floor, as far as houses go, but it was large because it was an entire floor just for her. Mother had sometimes slept in the guest room beside hers, but Mother was gone now and the guest room had not been touched since.

Azula passed her room and entered the guest room. 

It was dust-ridden, and a gigantic spider web decorated the window, but it was otherwise put-together: the bed was made, there were no clothes strewn on the floor, every book was neatly stacked in the shelf next to the closet—everything was in its place. Even the vanity looked neat, just a few items arranged on its surface. Azula sat down at the vanity and looked in the mirror.

She opened the drawer in front of her and dug around until she found an unopened container of makeup wipes and a pair of long scissors. Carefully, she removed the thick lines and stark coloring from her face until it was entirely gone, taking with it a weight she didn’t know was there. Her hair was up, a few pieces strategically placed on her forehead. Her hair was always up. She took it down; it tumbled to her waist, where it lay flat, solid black and shining in the moonlight. 

Azula picked up the scissors.

Azula wasn’t sleeping. She’d migrated to her room, was laying in her bed, eyes closed, but she wasn’t sleeping. She wasn’t thinking either. She was just being in this familiar place and for the first time she was noticing how wrong that felt.

Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap.

Azula had barely a moment to register the rapping on the window before it slid open and Zuko stepped inside, followed by Sokka, who was wearing a brightly-colored wrist cast and a nasty bruise. Azula sat up.

“You should really lock your window,” Sokka said as he walked to her bedside to turn on the lamp.

“You idiots —” Azula’s berating was cut off by Zuko’s sharp gasp as the light illuminated her—more specifically, her hair.

It was shorn, jagged, just brushing her shoulders. Crooked bangs obscured the left side of her face entirely. It was rough, amatuer, and a style Father would never have approved of. 

Sokka spoke first. “Nice haircut,” he said simply, like it was just that: a haircut. Nothing more. He sat on the edge of her bed, expression turning serious—the way it always did when he was about to launch into a speech.

“Zuzu, we—”

“Your hair,” Zuko said finally.

“My hair,” Azula agreed. Zuko swallowed, nodded, then joined Sokka on the bed.

“Azula, I’m sure you saw…” Zuko trailed off.

“The tweet. Yes. Everyone did,” Azula confirmed. “So we all know how idiotic you are.”

“Right. So,” Zuko continued, immune to Azula’s criticism by now, “I’m not coming back. I’m staying at Sokka’s for now, then I’ll probably move in with Uncle. You—”

“Father said you could stay,” Azula blurted out. She hated how weak it sounded—how weak she was being—but she kept going anyway. “Here,” she clarified. “Until college.”

Zuko looked incredulous. “Really?”

“What does he care?” Azula shrugged. “It’s not like he can kick you out. Everyone’s watching him now, you made sure of that.”

Zuko looked at Sokka and they had a silent exchange with their eyes. Azula had known them both long enough to get the gist: there may be a change of plans. In the end, Zuko sighed.

“I’ll stay at Sokka’s until Ozai leaves,” Zuko conceded, then added quietly, “I don’t know if I can face him.”

“And you don’t have to,” Sokka butts in, grabbing Zuko’s hand and squeezing. He reaches out and grasps Azula’s hand, too. “In fact, I’d rather you didn’t.”

“But that’s not relevant,” Zuko continues. “That’s not why we came here.”

“No, you came here for your shit,” Azula says. “Come on, I’ll help you carry it—I know your weak arms can only take so much.” But as Azula begins to get up, Sokka drags her hand, the rest of her following, back down.

“No. Well, yes, that would be great, Zuzu,” Sokka admits, “but we came to talk to you.”

“And here we are. Talking,” Azula says, gesturing exasperatedly with her free hand.

“Yeah. So, Azula,” Zuko holds her other hand so that they form a triangle with their connected limbs. It’s incredibly stupid-looking, but Azula doesn’t let go. “Come with me. When I go to Uncle’s.”

Azula’s expression betrayed nothing: it was entirely blank. Underneath—unlike earlier that night—there were a million thoughts thrashing in a sea of uncertainty.

The first being: That would be nice.

Immediately followed by the second: I can’t leave.

But couldn’t she? Azula was already feeling the creep of something—something old, something that had always been, but had lived deeply suppressed in her mind. Until now. Until now, when those scissors gave her comfort this house never had, when she took the shorn locks to the fireplace downstairs and watched the fire eat away at the black pool until there was nothing left—the all-too familiar scent of burnt hair filling the air.

Azula was strong. Azula was built for this life, had been built up and knocked down until she towered above all those around her. It was lonely at the top, but that was always how it was going to be: the strong know to accept what they cannot change.

“I am the heir to Keohso Enterprises,” Azula says, and it sounds practiced though she only learned it hours ago. “I can’t leave.”

Chapter Text

Azula was outside the principal’s office.

It wasn’t an uncommon place for her to be, although it was a mystery why any teacher would bother sending her here: they had discovered long ago that Ozai didn’t give a shit about what Azula got up to at school, so long as she kept up her As. 

On this particular day, Azula was here for “cussing out” a student who had made fun of her haircut. It hadn’t been a “cussing out”; she hadn’t uttered a single dirty word—it was more a psychological analysis. It wasn’t Azula’s fault the weak sap couldn’t handle it. 

A familiar face greeted her from the adjacent seat.

“Hey, Azula,” Lee said, his voice much deeper than she remembered. He looked different, too—taller, more defined. More present.

“Lee,” Azula nodded, then resumed glaring at the carpet. It was certainly deserving of her contempt: crumbs and dirt decorated its surface like it was a design choice rather than the result of a messy staff and a poor cleaning budget.

“I like the hair,” he commented, and though it sounded genuine, Azula’s skin crawled with anger. She’d never been the angry one: feelings were Zuko’s area. But Zuko hadn’t been angry, really angry, in a long time.

“I get it,” she snapped. “Now will you shut up?”

“Woah,” Lee said, “no need to get defensive. You really are nothing like your brother.”

At that comment, Azula perked up, turning her intense stare from the floor to the boy next to her.

“How do you know my brother?” she demanded.

“He’s in GSA,” Lee shrugged. “Hey, you should join. It’s chill, and… you look like you need to relax.”

“When did he join?” Azula asked desperately, choosing to ignore the latter part of Lee’s statement.

“I don’t know, he was there when I joined as a freshman.” Lee didn’t have the decency to look at all shaken by Azula’s tone. “Him and his boyfriend, that Sokka guy.”

“His boyfriend?” Azula wasn’t proud of the way her voice squeaked on boyfriend , but it couldn’t be helped. She’d thought they were being smart, even if they were terrible at hiding it. 

“Yeah, his boyfriend. They’ve been dating a while, huh?”

Azula didn’t answer, mind reeling. All those “slip-ups” weren’t slip-ups at all: all the times they’d used pet names in front of her, held hands in front of her, made that face at each other in front of her—they’d been out the whole time. It had never been a secret. Ozai hadn’t known, but it had never been a secret. It wasn’t an ugly truth, a guilty indulgence to hide away: they’d hidden when hiding was necessary, but had lived freely as they were at all other times. It had never been a secret.

It didn’t have to be a secret.

Chapter Text

Azula had never been to Ty Lee’s house.

She’d seen the outside many, many times from the many, many times she’d picked up Ty Lee, but had never gone inside. She’d never wanted to. Azula liked being home —but she didn’t really feel she had one of those anymore.

So here she was, at Ty Lee’s house. It was chaotic; it had to be, with her many sisters milling about. The house was one-story and ostensibly fit seven siblings, a mother, and three cats—a stark contrast to Azula’s big, empty house. She had expected it to feel crowded, but instead the extra bodies around her were comforting. She felt safe.

“Sit still, Azula,” one of Ty Lee’s adoptive sisters—Suki—commanded. Upon seeing Azula and her “atrocious haircut,” Suki had demanded she fix it into something presentable. Apparently, she’d been cutting all six of her sisters’ hair since she could handle safety scissors and considered herself something of an expert.

“It looks really good!” Ty Lee said encouragingly from the kitchen stool next to Azula. “It looked good before, too,” she added quickly.

“Of course,” Azula replied flatly. 

Suki snorted. “You actually did pretty decent layering, though I’m not sure it was intentional.”

“It wasn’t,” Azula confirmed. “I just picked up a pair of scissors and went at it.”

Suki laughed aloud at that. “I did the same thing a couple years ago. Sometimes, we just need a change.”

It didn’t take long for Suki to finish the back, and Azula was about to get up when Suki stopped her.

“Wait,” she said, “I’ll fix the bangs so they don’t… cover half of your entire face.”

Azula reached up and held the impulsively chopped bangs protectively. “No, I’m keeping the bangs.”

“Suit yourself,” Suki shrugged. 

“Mom texted, she’s almost home,” Ty Lee piped up. Azula tensed and sat up a little straighter. Azula had thought a lot about Ty Lee’s mother; Ty Lee seemed to adore her, but she was too close to the situation. A single mother of seven (ten, if she’s counting the cats) cannot be a very good mother—it’s just not feasible. If Azula’s mother couldn’t divide her attention equally among two children, how could Ty Lee’s divide it among seven?

“Cool,” Suki said, “Mai’s coming over for dinner, by the way. Who’s night is it to cook?”

Ty Lee grasped Azula’s arm excitedly. “I think it’s Niu’s turn, but Azula and I were gonna cook together instead.”

“We were?” Azula raised an eyebrow.

“Alright,” Suki said. “But that means you have two nights this week, okay? No messing with the schedule.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ty Lee agreed cheerily.

Azula had never made a good impression on a parent. Azula hadn’t interacted with a parent other than her own since she was in elementary school. When Ty Lee’s mother walked through the front door, what was Azula supposed to do? Did she need to greet her at all? Or could she just go about her task, pretend to be so engrossed she didn’t notice an additional person in the room?

The latter option sounded much better. Ty Lee handed Azula a pile of vegetables to prepare, and Azula stared into the shredder, pretending to be transfixed by the motion—which led to actually being transfixed. While Azula stared into the shreddings, her mind went blank; she thought of nothing, entirely consumed by the task at hand. It was highly unusual for Azula to not be analyzing something , but everything happening recently was highly unusual.

“Hi, Azula. It’s nice to finally meet you,” a warm, deep voice broke Azula from her trance. She turned to see a woman so incredibly tall Azula wondered if she had to duck down to get through the door. She was well over six feet tall—six-five? Six-six? It made no difference to Azula, who was and always would be five-foot-nothing. “You can call me Kyoshi,” Ty Lee’s mother added. 

“Nice to meet you, Kyoshi,” Azula said, still wide-eyed.

“Mom!” Ty Lee shouted, leaping into Kyoshi’s arms. 

Kyoshi held her daughter tight. “Ty Lee!” she mimicked, and her sonorous voice alerted the rest of her daughters, all six of which flooded into the kitchen to receive their own hug. It was the most massive group hug Azula had ever witnessed; she even thought she spotted one or two cats in there. Once the hoard cleared out, Kyoshi turned her attention back to Azula.

“So, what are you two making?”

Azula stared blankly. She had no idea what they were making; she was just following Ty Lee’s instructions. Cooking wasn’t really her area—she much preferred baking. 

“Vegetable fritters,” Ty Lee supplied.

“Lovely! If you need anything, I’ll be watching the little ones.” And with a final wink at Azula, she was gone. Well, not gone —she’d gone to the room just beyond the kitchen, where Ty Lee’s little sisters were playing, and her voice echoed against the wooden floors.

“So…” Ty Lee grinned, “What do you think? She’s amazing right?”

“She’s nice,” Azula said simply. She wasn’t just nice though: Mother had been nice. Kyoshi didn’t seem like Mother.

Ty Lee’s smile widened.

There were not eight people at the table.

Azula didn’t know for sure what Ty Lee’s sisters looked like, but she knew there were six of them—and there were well over that at the table. There were so many others around the table (which would, under ordinary circumstances, be considered large) that there was a whole extra set of chairs pulled up around it. Azula’s eyes went to Mai—who was smiling , a foreign expression on her face—seated next to Suki. Mai turned, feeling Azula’s gaze on her, and winked . 

Ty Lee didn’t seem phased by the crowd in the least, grabbing Azula’s hand and leading her to an open seat next to hers. After everyone had found a seat and a plate of fritters, they quieted down and turned to Kyoshi, who was at the head of the table.

“Thank you, Ty Lee and Azula, for preparing this meal—it looks delicious, by the way—and welcome to the Kyoshi household, Azula! Stay as long as you want and come back anytime.” Kyoshi smiled at Azula, and everything about her emanated warmth. Azula knew fire, but this wasn’t it: this was a spring day, the kind where the sun just keeps giving and giving its heat and light but never burns.

Ty Lee volunteered her and Azula for clean-up duty, even though they had been the ones to prepare dinner. No one protested, of course, all filing into the living room to do whatever big families do together. Play a game? Watch TV? How could they ever all agree on anything? 

Yet Azula couldn’t make herself think having such a big family was a burden. It was lonely, where she stood. Ty Lee was never lonely. Ty Lee would never be lonely.

“Ty Lee,” Azula said, and her best friend turned to her, still drying one of the plates. “I’m moving in with my uncle. I just. Wanted you to know.”

Ty Lee dropped the plate. It was plastic, thankfully, but it did emit a loud smack that reverberated around the tiny kitchen.

“I’ll still attend the same school,” Azula clarified. “I assume, at least. I guess I don’t really know where he lives,” she admitted.

Ty Lee stood, frozen on the spot, mouth slightly agape. Azula shifted—she didn’t like this feeling, this discomfort. Was this what awkwardness felt like? 

Ty Lee broke out into a grin—one of those signature, all-consuming Ty Lee grins—and with one step closed the gap between them, and picked Azula up off the ground and spun her around . Ty Lee squealed in excitement, set Azula (who was in shock, unconsciously accepting the world as it turned around her) back on the hardwood floor, leaned down and kissed her.

If Azula had been shocked before, she was absolutely short-circuited by now. Everything stopped. All thoughts, movements, ideas were replaced with the feeling of Ty Lee’s lips on hers.

It was over all too soon, with Ty Lee pulling back and muttering, “oh, shit,” which was probably the first time Azula had heard Ty Lee cuss. 

It was over, but Azula didn’t want it to be over.

“Azula, I’m—”

Ty Lee’s apology was cut off as Azula surged forward and kissed her best friend.

Chapter Text

“You’re holding it wrong.”

Zuko sighed. “Toph, you know only Sokka falls for that.”

“You are holding it wrong, though,” Azula criticized, passing Zuko and heading up the stairs to Uncle’s apartment, bags of clothes hanging off every limb. 

It had been a difficult fight—and a dirty one—but in the end, Ozai would do anything to avoid the bad publicity a big lawsuit would churn up and reluctantly made Uncle a legal guardian of Azula. He himself did not give up guardianship—as to maintain the illusion of a happy family—but the threat of the media was enough to keep him away for now.

Ty Lee bounced happily up after her girlfriend, carrying miscellaneous bags of random shit. Zuko almost thought he saw a bottle of Mother’s perfume peeking out of one of them.

Zuko turned to his boyfriend, who was zoned out, staring up at the apartment building before him. “You gonna help?” Zuko asked, gesturing to the heavy box of books he was reportedly holding incorrectly.

“Huh?” Sokka said, and Katara elbowed him. “What?”

“I got you, Zuko,” Suki offered, appearing from where she’d been digging around in the back of the trunk. Zuko took one look at the many bags adorning her arms and shoulders—Azula-style—and shook his head.

“No, that’s okay, Suki. You know, you don’t have to carry it all in one go,” Zuko laughed. 

“What can I say, I’m efficient.” Suki grinned at him, the twinkle of a challenge in her eye. “I bet I can carry more than all you losers combined.”

“Challenge accepted!” Toph declared, already rushing back to the trunk.

“Wait, Toph!” Sokka called, running after her to keep her from killing herself under a load of bags. Toph was very capable, more capable than most people Zuko knew, but she certainly liked to push her limits—and a set of stairs was not the ideal place to be doing that. Katara rolled her eyes as Aang followed Sokka and Toph to the trunk, determined to win with his noodle arms.

“I’ll help you, Zuko,” Katara said, walking forwards to grab the other end of the box.

The competition got a little out of hand—ending with Azula picking up Toph so they could hold twice as much stuff and still count as “one person”—but Zuko only smiled as he watched the chaos unfold.

Zuko and Sokka were leaving for college soon—just down the road, but they were bound to be more busy than they had been. Their unofficial schedule—the Azula time-share—will inevitably fall apart as their official schedules change. The unofficial schedule had already been disbanded, though, as Azula had been adopted into the “Gaang” and spent more and more time out of the house.

Zuko might not live with her anymore, but Azula would never be alone.