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The after-work evening rush had hit, and Zuko was on full automatic as he went to his next table. "Hi welcome to the Jasmine Dragon what can I get you," he droned, glancing out the big plate-glass window at the snow coming down. It had been doing that all day, off and on. He wanted his uncle to close the shop early and go home, but Uncle never wanted to leave early. He just hoped it didn't accumulate more than an inch or so before they did close.
"Hi, Zuko."
His fingers fumbled. His head jerked up, and he stared at the girl who'd seated herself at table 5.
She smiled awkwardly. "Do you remember me?"
"I - " he said. "Uh. Katara, right?"
Something flickered in her eyes, but she smiled even brighter. "That's me. How are you?"
"Good," he said, watching her warily. "I'm good. What can I get you?"
"Um." She looked down at the menu as if it were her first time seeing it. Normally that drove Zuko crazy. "Can I get a green tea with honey?"
"Sure," he said, noting it down. "Anything else?"
"Not right now. Maybe later?"
"Sure." He turned and headed for the counter. "Hey, Uncle?"
Uncle Iroh was assembling a takeout order, popping lids on cups and sliding them into a carrier before passing them off to the delivery driver to go with the paper box of pastries.
"Just one tea, gramps," the delivery driver said, looking up from his phone.
"The other one's for you, my boy. Something to keep you warm on a night like tonight. Oolong with lychee. On the house." He waved the babbling driver off and turned to Zuko. "We're not closing up early. Look at how many people need nice warm tea tonight."
"I wasn't going to ask that." At this moment, Zuko added silently. "Can you take a green tea with honey out to the girl at table five? I've gotta pee."
His uncle blinked up at him. "Oh. Sure."
Zuko ducked into the back. The counter was full of busing tubs, and the bin of complimentary almond cookies was almost depleted, but he headed straight for the tiny staff bathroom all the way at the back.
Katara Ivalu. Katara Ivalu was in his shop. And she'd recognized him.
He propped his elbows on his knees and breathed.
God. Of course she'd recognized him. How could she not? How many guys had a big, ugly scar over half their face?
She was somehow even prettier than she'd been at fourteen.
Did she still hate his fucking guts?
It had been ten years. He was a grown man, not the teenage dirtbag he had been. She was a grown woman - grown up very nicely, too, something in his brain added, and he swatted it like a cockroach. There was no way she could still hate him.
Could she?
If Jee hadn't called out sick, he wouldn't even be here. He normally clocked out by three at the latest, and was usually hanging out on his couch by now. He could have missed her completely.
He would have missed her completely.
He cursed and kicked the toilet, and cursed again, because that had hurt.
He splashed water on his face, washed his hands, and made himself leave the bathroom. Those dishes weren't going to wash themselves, and if Uncle could keep an eye on his tables for the next ten minutes, he could get them all through the dishwasher.
He was closing the door on the first load when Uncle Iroh came back into the kitchen. "What a lovely young lady," he said.
"Who?" Zuko asked, like he didn't know.
"The sweet child at table five. She looked terribly disappointed that I was bringing her tea out to her. Why don't you go take her some of your almond cookies?"
"No," Zuko said.
"Zuko!" his uncle said. "Isn't that what they're for? I remember perfectly, you presented the idea of those cookies as little treats for our clientele to encourage them to stay and order more tea and food. And you could have a nice chat with her."
"Uncle, I don't chat." He fiddled with the big bins of flour and sugar, although he'd already mixed his dough for the morning pastries and run his last tray of cookies through for the day. Maybe he should throw together some cookie dough right now. Put it in the fridge overnight. Have it ready for tomorrow.
That would keep him in the back for, what, half an hour? If he stretched it out.
"Well, maybe you should," Iroh persisted. "Get to know her."
"I already know her," he admitted, digging the scoop into the sugar bin and letting grains waterfall out again. "Knew. It's been awhile."
"Even better! An old friend. Where from? School, perhaps?"
"She . . . lived next door. When I was at Gyatso's," Zuko muttered.
A moment of silence, and then Iroh said, "Ah."
He'd spent three months in a temporary foster placement when he was sixteen, after CPS had taken him out of the hospital and conducted an investigation into the accident that had scarred half his face.
He'd been . . . troubled.
Actually, he'd been a giant asshole.
He'd yelled and cursed and threw things that Gyatso calmly and quietly picked up, or cleaned up, or mopped up. He'd been awful to the other foster kid, Aang, who'd consistently acted like they were the best of friends. He'd run away over and over again, trying to go back to his dad's house. He'd gotten in regular fights with Katara's older brother, Sokka. He'd smoked and drank and the only reason he hadn't abused the painkillers that the hospital issued him was that Gyatso had locked them away for his own safety.
Zuko didn't like the person he'd been then. He didn't blame Katara for not liking him, either.
Iroh rested a hand on his shoulder. "If it brings back memories, I certainly won't force you. But she is very nice and polite."
"Yeah," he said.
Could he hide in the back until she left?
But it was just him and Uncle today, with Jee out. And like Uncle said, on a cold winter's night like tonight, everyone wanted a nice hot tea and maybe some cookies or pastries. So he had to go back out there. He squared his shoulders, adjusted his apron, and stepped out of the kitchen.
He glanced over all the tables to see if anyone was looking like they needed a refill or a cleanup. Everyone looked perfectly fine.
Katara had a laptop set up, and a whole array of textbooks and notebooks, and a little battalion of multi-colored pens and highlighters. So she'd just come in to study. Not to see him or anything. Not to curse him out at the one place that had ever felt like his.
Of course not.
He told himself the sinking feeling in his chest was relief.
He arranged almond cookies on a tray and took them around. One middle-aged lady at table four squealed with delight and took three. "These are the best in the city," she told her table-mate, another middle-aged lady. She turned to Zuko. "You should sell these, you know!"
"We do, ma'am," he said as politely as possible. "They're in the case at the front." About twice the size of the complimentary ones.
"But little like this! Nibble-sized! In a cunning little bag, maybe, or a darling little tin. Whoever bakes these could have quite the empire."
Zuko didn't want an empire. He wanted to bake and help Uncle run the tea shop and go to bed every night without having screamed at an underling even once. Uncle had hammered into his head that this kind of talk was basically a compliment, though, so he said, "Thank you, ma'am."
"What a nice young man," said her table mate as he moved away.
"Oh, yes, so nice. Such a shame about his face."
Katara looked up. Zuko kept his expression flat, like he'd gone profoundly deaf, and held out the tray. "Cookie?"
She shot a dirty look past him at the two ladies, who'd gone back to browsing Instagram together, and started to get up.
He said quietly, "Don't."
She paused.
"Seriously." He'd gotten mostly used to peoples' reactions now. You grew a thick skin for that, working customer service. He shoved the tray closer to her. "Cookie?" he said again.
She sat down and said, "Sure. Thanks." She took one. Just one.
He smiled a little tightly and moved on.
Katara had always been like that. Jumping to peoples' defense if she thought something was unfair or unkind. She'd've done that for anyone.
After he distributed all the cookies he had, he unloaded the dishwasher and loaded it up again. He checked the supplies and let Uncle know of a few things that were running low on. He went around with a busing bin, cleaning the tables that people had left behind. The entrepreneurial lady had left a fine dusting of sugar all over the table and a bunch of pieces of scrap paper that looked like she'd cleaned out her purse while she was there.
All the things that were part of the usual closing routine. He could almost forget that Katara Ivalu was sitting at table five, typing away or making highlights in her textbooks.
He cleaned the baked goods case, boxing up the leftovers for the sale rack tomorrow. He paused, looking at the last chocolate croissant, and considered for a moment. Then he put it on a plate, went over to Katara's table, and plopped it down next to her.
She looked up, startled. "Um, I didn't - "
"These don't sell well the next day," he said. "You can have it. Like a thank-you."
"For wh - "
"Do you need anything else?"
She blinked a few times, then said, "Is it too late to get another pot?"
"No, it's fine. Green, right? With honey? I'll bring it right out."
At the counter, Uncle Iroh smirked at him over the top of his laptop screen. "Those sell just fine the next day," he said in a low voice.
"Uncle," Zuko muttered, spooning green tea leaves into a new teapot.
"They sell like crazy when they're fresh. I'm astonished there's one left."
He focused on filling the teapot with water from the 180-degree decanter. "She just hadn't eaten anything since she got here except a cookie and that's a lot of studying."
"Mmmhm," his uncle said, smiling at the keyboard.
Zuko carefully waited the two minutes for the tea to steep, took out the infuser, and took the pot back to Katara's table, plopping it down next to the plate with the half-eaten chocolate croissant and escaping before she could open her mouth again.
He sold a couple of the day-olds, scrubbed the counter, and filled some to-go orders. He watched the time tick toward seven o'clock and resisted the temptation to kick everyone out.
He tried not to stare at table 5 and mostly succeeded.
But whether it was the snow or the general leave-now waves he was trying to send out with his brain, the tea shop had mostly cleared out by the time he flipped the front door sign from OPEN to CLOSED. Uncle would never allow him to make an announcement, the way he wanted to, but he made a production out of clearing the empty tables. The last stragglers took the heavy hint and got going.
Katara had her bag all packed, even her laptop put away, and was frowning over her phone. "I know you're closing up," she said to his uncle. "I'm just waiting for my Uber. I swear I'll be out soon."
"Of course, my dear!" his uncle said, pouring the last of her second pot into a to-go cup and passing it over with a little bow. "You must stay in here where it's nice and warm. You don't mind, do you, Zuko?"
"It's fine," Zuko grunted, and went in the back to unload the dishwasher.
He'd just finished reloading it with the last dishes for the night when his uncle came in back to put the cash in the safe. "All right, my nephew," he said, shutting the safe and locking it. "I'm off."
"What? Uncle! You were going to stay here tonight, remember? The snow."
"Was I?" He tapped his lower lip. "Mmmm. I don't think I was."
"Yes, you were, you - "
"I'll be perfectly fine, my boy! A hop, skip, and a jump, right down the main road, and I'll be home in front of my own fireplace."
It was more like ten minutes, but his uncle was already zipping up his coat and wrapping his scarf more securely around his face. Zuko stared out at the snow and thought, it's not really that . . . bad? Yet.
"Text me when you get home safe," he said. "Or I'll call you."
A wave over his shoulder and Iroh was gone.
Zuko sighed and got out the cleaning stuff. When he went out to the front again, Katara was still sitting at her table.
"Hey," he said. "Um."
"I know, I know," she said, head down over her phone. "I'm just trying to get an Uber here. They keep canceling. I think I got one, though. I'll wait outside - "
"No!"
She looked up, startled.
"I mean," he said. "I mean, you heard him. My uncle would never forgive me if I made you wait outside in the cold. It's fine if you stay in here until you figure out your ride. No big deal. I'm just going to be cleaning up."
She stood with her head cocked to one side, studying him. Suddenly she smiled, quick and bright like light glinting off water. Dazzling.
He realized she was saying something. "Huh?"
"I said, is there anything I can do to help?"
"Oh, god, no. Uncle would also never forgive me if I made you work."
"I don't mind," she said, putting her phone in her skirt pocket. "Really. I had a work-study in the university cafeteria when I was an undergrad and I worked every summer at a diner to save up money." She hopped up. "Is this your cleaner?" she asked, grabbing the squirt bottle and microfiber cloth Zuko had left on the counter.
"Um, yeah."
"Okay."
She got to work with a skill and alacrity that backed up the resume she'd given him. He followed along after her, flipping the chairs up to leave the floor clear.
"So," she said brightly. "How have you been?"
"Okay," he said. "You?"
"Oh, good."
He cast around for something to say. "You're . . . in school?"
She looked over her shoulder at the bulging backpack still sitting on the chair. "Yep. Med school."
"For real? Med school?"
"Surprised?"
"No," he said, and he wasn't. Not even a little. "You've always wanted to take care of people."
She straightened up. "Really?"
"Yeah. That's what I remember anyway." He busied himself setting the chairs just so on top of the table.
"Usually people say something about how I'm smart," she said. "When I tell them that."
He shrugged. "Smart is one thing. Anyone can be smart. My sister is crazy smart, but I wouldn't want her as my doctor."
He almost laughed at the thought. Azula would be all like, why aren't you healthy? You're a failure. Are you even following my instructions? No, she would be a total nightmare as a doctor.
She was still looking at him, head tipped to one side. "So," she said, going back to wiping down table seven. "Yeah. That's me. What about you? This is a great place. How long have you been working here?"
"Since it opened," Zuko said.
"Oh, right. That's your uncle, right? Iroh? I heard you call him Uncle. So he gave you a job?"
"I'm actually, um, half-owner."
"Really?"
He didn't often tell people that. But he kind of wanted her to know. He shrugged. "I got some money from my mom. I figured why not."
"Well, it's great. You should be proud." She started scrubbing industriously at a hardened blotch of honey at table eight.
He felt his face go hot and went back to the counter to get a scraper. "Here," he said, handing it to her. "Use that."
She smiled up at him and used it to scrape the honey up off the table. "Thanks."
Zuko shrugged. "So, how's your dad and everybody?"
Katara set the scraper aside and wiped the table down again. "Good! They're good. My dad still lives at our old house."
"Your, uh, your grandma too?" Even though he'd beat up her grandson and yelled at her granddaughter and been a real turd to her son, Kanna Ivalu had been kind to him. Kinder than he had any right to expect, anyway.
"Of course. She's going strong."
"I saw Aang," he offered. "He's gotten really tall."
"I know, right? It's ridiculous! He's the one who told me about this place. That you were here."
"Oh," Zuko said. "Really?"
Aang had come in to check the place out, and the way his face had lit up when he saw Zuko, you never would have thought that Zuko called him names or cussed him out. He'd found himself sitting down and talking with Aang for half an hour after he'd clocked out, even though he normally just wanted to go pass out on his couch after a shift.
"You guys still hang out?" he asked.
"Yeah, we're friends. Actually, we dated for a little while."
"Wait, really?" Aang hadn't mentioned that. "When?"
"Oh - undergrad. For, like, two years? Yeah, just about two years."
"Huh." Zuko wasn't surprised that Aang had dated Katara, given the chance. His crush on her had been as big as the moon. But hearing that Katara had reciprocated, even for a little while, was surprising.
She smiled firmly. "It didn't work out."
Okay. Story there, he thought. But it wasn't his business.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out. Like all his uncle's texts, it was entirely emojis. ✌️🏠😁🔥🫖
"Something wrong?" Katara asked.
"No, just my uncle. Letting me know he got home safe and he's sitting in front of the fire with a pot of tea. Or extremely hot tea, maybe."
"That sounds nice," Katara said, looking out at the snow. It had gotten heavier just in the last ten minutes, and her brow furrowed. She dug in her pocket for her phone and checked the screen. "Oh, no," she moaned.
"What's wrong?"
"The Uber canceled. Again. That's three times." She chewed her lip.
"The buses might still be running?"
She shook her head. "Not my route. That's why I tried to get Uber."
"What are you going to do?"
"Maybe I can go back to campus and crash in the library for the night."
"You can sleep in my bed," Zuko offered.
Her eyes widened and she went red to her hairline.
He replayed the last several seconds in his head. "I mean - ! Um. I didn't mean in a creepy way, I have a couch, I could sleep on the couch and you can use my bed, that's all I meant - uh."
She covered her face with her hands and Zuko wanted to throw himself into his own oven. She thought he was a creep. She was going to throw the spray bottle at his head and then run out in the snow to get away from him, and then she would die, and it would be all his fault.
But laughter leaked out from behind her hands. "Oh, your face," she gasped. "Oh, Zuko!"
"I - "
"You looked so - " She went off in peals of laughter again.
He crossed his arms. "You know what I meant."
She dropped her hands and looked at him, still giggling, apparently unbothered by his scowl. "I mean," she said. "Eventually."
He rolled his eyes.
"Are you sure? I don't want to put you out. You could drop me off somewhere on your way home instead. You don't have to have an overnight guest - " She went red again for half a second. "An overnight guest if you don't want one."
"It's no big deal," he said. "Dropping you off would actually be more inconvenient."
She frowned at him, puzzled.
"I live upstairs. My apartment. It's part of the building. I have to get here so early and my night vision is kinda shit because - " He pointed at his bad eye. "I really mean it. If you're okay crashing here - "
She bit her lip and looked out at the snow again. "That would be great. But I'm not taking your bed away from you. The couch will be fine."
They finished the tables and Zuko mopped while Katara sat behind the counter watching.
She was going to sleep at Zuko Sozin's place tonight.
Not like that! she scolded herself. God, Katara. He was being nice and offering her a couch for the night so she wouldn't die in a snowstorm.
Zuko Sozin was offering her a place to stay tonight. Just to be nice.
When she'd first met him, she'd been fourteen and he'd been sixteen. His hair had been buzzed close to his skull then. It made his features sharp and hawkish. A little mean, a little dangerous. And of course there was the burn. And the sneer. And the nasty cigarettes he always had, with their smoke swirling around him.
She'd swooned.
Of course, she'd swooned. She'd been fourteen. She was allowed.
To her own credit, she felt, she'd only swooned for about a week before Sokka got in a fight with him, and she'd seen him cussing Aang out at the bus stop. Then her dad had caught him climbing their fence at two in the morning with the neighbor boy Jet who was always in trouble, and Zuko had thrown a lit cigarette at her dad and burned his arm, and her dad had hauled him back to Gyatso's by the ear while his yelling - Zuko's, not Dad's - woke up the whole neighborhood.
Even that hadn't done it until she'd caught up with him on the walk to school the next day and asked if he was okay. He'd looked at her like she was gum on his shoe. "Fuck off, little girl," he'd said, and lit a cigarette.
Then she'd sworn to loathe him for all eternity, like the old Keira Knightley movie.
He wore his hair long now, caught back in a tail at the base of his neck, a few loose strands falling into his eyes. The scar that had been red and lurid at the time was faded to a soft purple-pink. He was even taller than he had been, his shoulders broad and his forearms strong. Muscles shifted under his shirt as he swiped the mop over the tea shop's tile floor.
When Aang had said, Guess who I saw downtown! she'd never expected him to add Zuko!
Even then, she'd thought he'd be a finance bro. Or one of those guys who had "jobs" at their dad's company where they came in at ten, had a long lunch, and left at three while underlings did stuff they'd get credit for.
She'd never expected to walk into this warm, cozy, sweet-smelling place and see Zuko bringing tea and cookies around on a tray and wiping down tables.
"Okay," he said gruffly, bringing the mop behind the counter and taking it back into the kitchen. A thunk, and suddenly all the lights out front were off, leaving only the lights in the kitchen. "Come on back. The stairs are back here. Just gotta check some things first."
She followed him back, feeling very daring and privileged. The kitchen was surprisingly industrial for such a cozy place. A huge dishwasher he was unloading, stacking plates and cups onto racks. A big walk-in fridge. Massive counters with racks of utensils.
He finished the dishes and opened the fridge.
"What's in there?" she asked, seeing him poke at a tray and chew his lip thoughtfully.
"It's the pastries for tomorrow," he said. "They've got to prove overnight."
"Prove what?"
"It's a baking term. The yeast has to eat the sugars in the dough, and then it releases carbon dioxide to kind of poof up the dough so it's soft. Then at the same time, the gluten -"
She couldn't hold in the giggles anymore.
He scowled. "You're screwing with me."
She giggled again. She couldn't help it. She'd helped Gran-Gran bake since she could see over the counter, and Gran-Gran, ever the retired science teacher, had explained every step of the process. But Zuko Sozin, of all people, talking animatedly about yeast byproducts and gluten formation, just tickled her. "I thought they had to be warm for that."
"If I was going to bake it right away, yeah. But I made these today and I'm gonna bake in the morning. They still rise a little bit in the fridge. Just slower."
"So you're the baker?" she asked.
"Yeah - well, I mean, I bake all the stuff for - yeah." He backed out of the fridge, shut it and locked it, and hit a switch. The overhead lights clunked off, leaving only a couple of smaller lights to cut the dim, and she felt her heartbeat pick up.
Just be normal, Katara.
The stairs up to his apartment were through a narrow door at the back of the kitchen. He went first up the dark stairs, mumbling caution. "Light's out," he said by way of explanation. "I keep meaning to replace it but, you know - "
"Uh-huh," she said, stepping up carefully after him.
He unlocked the door and ushered her in, flicking on the light to reveal a living room filled with bookshelves and faded, mismatched furniture. A tapestry kind of thing hung on the wall, two dragons circling each other. She thought it might be from an old TV show.
He hastily kicked some socks under the couch and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "It's not much," he muttered.
"It's nice," she said.
"Thanks."
She clutched her bag and shifted from foot to foot.
He rubbed his neck, then winced at something.
"This is weird, isn't it?" she said.
"Yeah," he said, looking away.
"Look, you really, really don't have to do this. I bet I can find somebody who - "
"No, I want you to stay! It's just - um. I stink, okay?" he blurted. "I'm gross. I worked all day. But I don't wanna make you sit all by yourself in a strange apartment while - "
If she didn't take charge of this situation, they'd be standing here awkwardly all night. "Go shower," she said. "I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes! I have a phone and my computer. I can entertain myself for however long you need." She pointed dramatically toward a doorway. "Go! Shower!"
He looked at her a moment, and then his mouth quirked up. "That's the kitchen."
She rolled her eyes and dropped her arm.
He laughed softly and went into the kitchen for a moment. After a few thumps and clatters and sounds of water running, footsteps retreated down the hall. After another moment, the shower started to run.
That had been a nice laugh. Not the sneering, mocking one from years ago. It had been soft and deep and - That had been such a nice laugh.
She gave in to curiosity and looked at his books. There were a lot of cookbooks. Like, a lot. They were interspersed with books of poetry and history and, weirdly, sword fighting.
On a side table, a book on small business taxes had a folder stuffed in, holding a place in the pages. There was a beat-up composition book under it, lying open. Katara could see a recipe in spiky handwriting, with scrawled notes in different colors of ink.
She went into the kitchen and found a rice cooker bubbling away on the counter. Two bowls sat waiting, and a couple of those pouches with pre-made sauce sat next to them, clearly ready to be added to the rice once cooked.
She resisted the temptation to open cabinets and the refrigerator to poke around. Besides, there was plenty out on his tiny counter to look at.
A lime-green tub of hand lotion next to the sink. A coffee pod machine. A baking sheet drying in the rack. One of those really nice stand mixers with the different types of beaters. A half-empty box of parchment paper. A binder lying open to a printed recipe, the page protector spattered with flecks of butter. A grocery list under a magnet on his refrigerator, listing out things like beer and rice and toilet paper, but also vanilla and almond extracts, walnuts and cocoa powder.
A step alerted her to Zuko coming back in, wearing a clean shirt with the hosts of the Great British Baking Show, his hair hanging loose and damp around his shoulders. He smelled like soap. "Find anything?" he asked.
She felt herself go red again. "I wasn't snooping."
"Sure," he said, getting two bowls down from a cabinet. "So, guest picks. What sauce?"
Both of them were marked spicy but she picked the one with one pepper as opposed to two. He got coconut milk out of the pantry and added it to cut the spice further, which she appreciated.
"Sorry I didn't have sea prunes," he said.
She laughed. "They really are kind of an acquired taste, if you're not Water Tribe."
They ate on the couch. The coconut milk helped, but Katara still had to eat slowly. "Okay," she said. "How did this happen?"
Zuko gestured out the window. "Well, it was snowing, and - "
"No," she said, rolling her eyes. "You. Tea shop. Your uncle."
"Oh," he said, poking his chopsticks at a chickpea in his bowl. "That."
"Yeah, that. The last we heard, you'd gone back to your dad's." Sokka's latest black eye had barely been turning purple at the edges when Zuko was suddenly gone from next door.
"Yeah," he said, touching the edge of his scar. "CPS concluded it was an accident."
Gyatso had told her dad all of it, almost in tears. No fault found. And the lady who'd done most of the investigating had lost her job.
"That's bullshit," Katara said.
"Yeah," Zuko said. "Kinda. I stayed for like, six months. Then I moved in with my uncle."
"He's really nice," Katara said.
"Yeah. No idea how he's my dad's brother."
"What prompted that?"
"You're just going to keep asking, aren't you?"
"You don't have to tell me," she said. "But yes. I am."
He shook his head. "Well," he said. "I got back to my dad's house and realized he was kind of a piece of shit."
"I could have told you that."
"You never met him."
"Still could have told you that," Katara said.
"My uncle had just retired from the Navy and he asked me to visit him for the summer. So, I went and just . . . stayed."
"You just stayed?"
"Yep. Uncle told me later that was what he'd hoped when he invited me. Not that I wasn't at least much of a pain in the ass to Uncle as I was at Gyatso's. But he hung in there, and kept, um, kept loving me. Eventually I figured some things out, and - " He looked around, at his warm little apartment and the books and the recipes and the tapestry on the wall. "Anyway. Here I am."
"Here you are. Working in a tea shop and obsessed with baking."
"Obsessed isn't quite the - "
She pointed wordlessly at his shirt.
"Okay," he admitted. "A little obsessed."
She giggled. "I'm really glad you had your uncle to go to."
"I'm really glad I decided to go. If he'd asked even a year earlier, I never would have."
"Why did you?"
He chewed his lip. "I always knew other dads didn't do that stuff to their kids," he said. "But I thought, well, it must be me, then. I must be the problem. And then I got taken away and put with Gyatso and I gave him so much grief."
"You really did."
"But he never hit me or yelled or anything. Even then I was like, he wants to keep getting that sweet, sweet foster care check, so obviously he's gonna be all nice and shit." He looked up with a little smile. "Wanna guess who actually started changing my mind a little?"
"Who?"
"Your dad."
"My dad? Mine?"
"Yup. Hakoda Ivalu."
"You hated my dad. You called him - "
"I know what I called him," he said, head down. "I hated everyone. But I beat up his son and I burned his arm and I called him racist names and I peed on your vegetable garden - "
"Zuko! Gross!"
"I was a dirtbag," he said. "What do you expect? Anyway, I did all that shit, and your dad still never treated me even one-tenth as bad as my dad did on his best days. Even though he totally would have had an excuse. So I went back, and I looked at my dad, and this teeny, tiny - " He pinched his finger and thumb together. "- voice in the back of my head started going, 'hey, you know what, maybe this isn't okay.'"
"And here you are," she said. "In a shirt with Mary Berry on the front."
"Mary Berry is a queen amongst women and I will not hear a word against her."
They both burst out laughing.
"Anyway," he said in a way that told Katara she wasn't getting anything out of him.
"Anyway," she said to indicate that she heard what he wasn't saying.
Her backpack was sitting next to the coffee table, and he nudged it with his toe. "Med school. Wow."
"Yep! First semester."
"How's it going?"
She started to say something like "Oh, fine!" or "I love it!" or even "So challenging but so amazing!" All things she'd said to people who asked.
But for some reason, she stopped. Didn't say anything.
He looked up, his remaining brow raised.
"I'm kind of worried I can't do this," she said softly.
"Why?"
She appreciated that he didn't immediately jump to empty reassurances. She set her bowl down on the coffee table. "Okay, so? I don't know if you realize, but the Beifong Medical School at BSSU is - "
"One of the best in the country," Zuko said. "Yeah, I know. The Beifongs are in my dad's set. I've known their kid since we were little."
"Right," Katara said, blinking. It was strange to think of the man across the couch from her, with spicy sauce on his shirt, as someone who had ever moved with the rich and powerful. "So that means, all of us who made it in were used to being the smartest person in the room, our whole lives." She thought about it. "Well, not everyone. There are a couple of people that I can just tell their dad bought their admission or something because there's no way."
"Wow," he deadpanned. "I've never met anyone who would do that."
She smiled involuntarily. "But now all the smartest kids in the room are - "
"In the same room?"
"Yes! And it's just like this constant competition. Everybody's trying to be the best, all the time. And, you know, I'm smart - "
"And modest," he observed blandly.
She scrunched her face at him. "But I know I'm not smart enough to be number one in this class without killing myself in the process."
Zuko nodded, taking a few bites of his rice. "You know that joke about, what do you call the lowest-ranked in the class at med school?"
"Yes, yes, I know, you call them Doctor," she said testily. "I've heard that one. And I didn't say I was the lowest ranked, by the way."
"That's not what I meant!"
"What did you mean, then?"
"Just that there's kind of a point to that. You don't have to be number one in the class to become a doctor."
"Class rankings do help determine your residency, and that helps determine your specialty, and that decides your career - "
"And I believe you'll get exactly what you want for that," he said. "You always did. But is the point to be the best there ever was in med school, or to become a doctor and kick ass at that?"
She stirred her food around in her bowl. "To become a doctor. Obviously. But it's a pride thing, I guess."
"Smartest kid in the room," he said.
"Yeah."
He ate rice meditatively. "My dad used to get off on pitting me and my sister against each other. It was like there was this scoreboard above our heads and whoever had the most points won his love that day. Usually that was my sister. And I hated it and it drove me crazy and I worked my ass off to try and beat her at even one thing. But I never really did. And then I stopped trying, and Azula won forever. Daddy's favorite for eternity. You know what she is now?"
"The heir-apparent of Sozin Limited?"
"Yeah," he said. "But also? Fucked up. She's so unbelievably fucked up. And I'm not saying I'm the picture of mental health or anything. But I don't care about what he thinks anymore, because it doesn't matter."
Katara sat back, studying him. "Really? You don't think about him at all?"
He chewed his lip. "I'm working on not caring," he said. "I'm in a lot of therapy about it. Work in progress. But that's my point. Competition is pointless. Whose approval are you jockeying for? Just focus on being your own best."
She flopped back against the arm of the couch. "I knowwwwwww," she sighed. "But it's hard to keep that in mind."
"Come to the Jasmine Dragon for tea and pastries anytime you need a reminder."
"On the house?" she said hopefully. "I am a starving student."
"Are you nuts? Do you know what a small food business's bottom line is like?"
They started laughing again.
They finished their food, set the bowls aside, and kept talking - about Katara's sweet but ultimately doomed relationship with Aang, about Zuko's apprenticeship at the Piandao bakery, about anything and everything - when he suddenly let out a jaw-cracking yawn.
"Am I keeping you awake?"
"Huh?" He blinked his eyes open. "No, I - " Another monster yawn overtook him.
She giggled.
"I'm just really boring and I'm usually asleep by now," he said. "Sorry, go on."
It was barely eight thirty. "What time do you get up?"
"Four? There's a lot to prep before we open."
"Wait, you've been up and working since four am? Go to bed, Zuko!"
"Oh, but - "
"This is medical advice," she said. "You've had a long day and you need sleep."
"Can you say that? Are you actually like, medical yet?"
"Zuko!"
"Okay, I'm going, but first I gotta get you. Um. Stuff." He wandered off in the direction of his bedroom.
She picked up the dishes and took them to the kitchen. There was no dishwasher, so she scrubbed them in the sink and set them to dry in the drying rack. When she went back, she found Zuko dumping a pillow and a couple of blankets on the couch. "Hey," he said blinking sleepily at her. He pointed. "Look. Stuff."
"It looks very nice," she said. "Go to bed."
"So bossy," he said, yawning again. "You're still so bossy. G'nite."
She woke up the next morning to the smell of baking. When she checked, she saw that it was about six-fifteen. Far earlier than she liked to be up, but a little later than she should be. The apartment was empty and quiet.
On the counter, there was a mug and a note in front of the coffee-pod machine. In his spiky handwriting, the note said, Have some coffee and a shower if you want. I'm downstairs. - Z
Half an hour later, cleansed and caffeinated, she took her things carefully down the stairs and peeked into the kitchen of the tea shop. It was lit up bright. Zuko was just taking a tray out of the oven. She waited until he'd settled it on the counter and transferred a new one into its place to say, "Good morning."
He looked up and smiled at her. His hair was pulled back away, covered with a bandanna. "Hi," he said. "I didn't wake you up earlier, did I? When I got up?"
"No," she said. "I can sleep through anything now. How is it outside?"
"Snow stopped. Plows are going through. I haven't seen a bus yet, but it's still pretty early." He glanced at her dry hair. "I meant it about the shower."
"I know," she said. "But getting my hair wet means another half an hour and industrial hardware to get it dry." She'd twisted it all on top of her head and showered with her head sticking out of the spray like an ostrich. She'd done it many times before. "I'm clean, I promise." She lifted her coffee mug. "So, coffee? In the Jasmine Dragon? Does your uncle know about this?"
He held his finger in front of his lips theatrically. "Shhhh."
She laughed and sat at the counter, out of his way, and checked the bus website on her phone. "The bus to campus is running," she reported.
"When's your first class?"
"In about an hour. I should go soon."
He nodded at the wire rack with shop supplies, including a stack of to-go cups and lids. "Put the rest of your coffee in one of those. And if you can wait a few minutes, the zucchini bread will be cool enough to slice up."
She could wait a few minutes, and when he handed her a slice of bread in a clamshell box, she opened it up to break off a corner. "Mmmm! This is amazing. "
He blushed. "It's okay. I'm still playing with the recipe."
She smiled at him and took another bite. "This is going to sound weird, but I'm glad I got snowed in with you."
"If it had happened ten years ago, we might not have survived."
"Maybe not," she said. "Good thing it didn't."
He shot her a quick, shy smile.
Her bus would come to the stop a couple of doors down, and according to the website, it would be soon. She really had to get going. But she lingered, unwilling to go just yet. "So, how late do you normally work?"
"Like, two or three," he said. "Last night was just because someone called out."
"Would it be okay - " She fussed with her coat. "I mean, I know it's a business and everyone's welcome here, but I'd kinda like to come back."
He paused in the act of brushing glaze over puffy croissants. "Yeah?"
"Mmmhm."
"I'd kind of like you to come back," he said.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
They smiled kind of goofily at each other.
Then someone came in the staff door, stomping snow off their boots. "Morning! Buses are so slow this morning, it's the worst. Did you end up closing - " The girl stopped dead, seeing Katara. "Hello?"
"Hi," Katara said.
"Hi," the girl said. "I'm On Ji. You are - ?"
"Katara. I slept here last night."
"Oh really," On Ji said, her eyes lighting up.
"Not like that," Zuko grumbled.
"No?" On Ji looked positively delighted.
"It was the snow," Katara babbled. "The buses weren't running and the Ubers were - um - You said the buses are running now? Did you get off the eight?"
"The seven," On Ji said. "But the eight's down the street."
"I'd better go," Katara said. "Thank you!" She grabbed her coffee and her zucchini bread and her backpack and flew out the door.
As it shut behind her, On Ji was asking, "And wherrrrre did she sleep, Zuko?"
When she was safely sitting on the bus to campus, she looked back. The lights were just starting to come on in the Jasmine Dragon. She settled back on the hard plastic seat and smiled to herself.
One month later
It was snowing again, but lightly, as Katara crunched down the sidewalk. "Ahead of her, the tea stop was a patch of warm light. She found a grin spreading over her face.
The bells chimed as she pushed open the door, and Iroh looked up from the counter. He beamed at her. "Zuko, Katara is here!" he called into the back.
"Okay! Gonna wash my hands!"
Katara went up to the counter. "He's not in the middle of baking, is he?"
Iroh handed her one of the almond cookies from the tray. "I wouldn't let him. He's already changed his mind three times about what he wanted to bring." He smiled at her, eyes crinkling kindly at the edges. "I'm very sorry I couldn't make it tonight, my dear."
"It's fine," Katara said. "They understand."
She was disappointed too. Zuko was so keyed up about this dinner. It might have helped him to have Iroh there. But, she thought determinedly, she was going to be there, and she'd get him through it.
"I think I will have many more chances to meet your family," Iroh said.
She beamed at him. "I think so, too."
Zuko came out with a Jasmine Dragon branded cardboard box in his hands, carrying it like the crown jewels. "Hi," he said.
"Hi," she said, leaning over the counter to kiss him hello. "What did you settle on?"
"Lemon pound cake with a lingonberry glaze," he said. "Although I also made chocolate espresso cupcakes if you don't think - "
"I already sold one," Iroh said without looking up from his tea-brewing. "You can't take a partial batch."
At the same time, Katara said, "Gran-Gran loves lingonberries. That sounds perfect."
Zuko took a shaky breath. "Okay. What about me? Do I look okay?"
He'd put on clean slacks and a shirt and even a tie. His hair was bundled back in a ponytail again, even the usual stray strands combed flat. She always preferred it loose around his shoulders so she could run her fingers through it, but she thought if she tried, he might go through the roof.
So she said, "You look great. Let's go."
She'd borrowed Suki's car to pick him up, because she was going to drive them both back to her place afterwards. She waited until they;d gotten in the car and on the road to say, "Okay, so I have to tell you something."
"Oh, no," he said. "They're waiting with a bucket of pig's blood like in Carrie?"
"Nooooooo," she said. "They're really excited. I swear. All of them. They want to see you again. This is just because they're gonna tease me in front of you, so I'm getting out ahead of it."
"Tease you about what?"
"I had a big crush on you."
"Uh." In her peripheral vision, she could see his confused face. "We've . . . been dating for three weeks. I hope you have a crush on me?"
She rolled her eyes. What a doofus. "When I was fourteen."
He gaped. "On me?"
"Well, until you told me to fuck off. Then I hated you. But yeah, the sulky, tragic, wounded boy next door with his buzz cut and his leather jacket? Huge crush."
He looked through the windshield. "Wow."
"Regretting that you didn't know that?" she teased.
He frowned in silence for half a block, then said, "I'm really glad I didn't know."
"Are you?"
"Yeah," he said thoughtfully. "Because if we dated back then, I probably would have treated you like shit."
It was Katara's turn to frown. "I mean, maybe?"
"Yeah. I would've. Because i didn't know yet that wasn't how love should work."
She reached over the gearshift for his hand. "You know better now."
He wove their fingers together and smiled at her. "Yeah. I do."
FINIS