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“Uncle,” Zuko began, and Iroh looked up patiently from his afternoon tea. The cherry blossoms were out in the palace, so he’d visited. The teashop was under sharp management for now, until he got back. He’d been careful to hear Zuko coming, and even more careful not to acknowledge his nephew until he’d spoken.
“Yes, Fire Lord Zuko?” He asked. And then, a little too quickly after the formal address, “Come, sit with me. The tea is still warm.”
Zuko obliged, sitting across the table and letting Iroh pour the tea and then cradling the cup to him as if he were cold.
Iroh immediately reeled through all the possibilities for the news he was about to get based on just this sheepish body language: The Wani sunk with their old crew on it, Azula broke out of jail, Zuko was engaged-
“Did you ever- I mean- you know-” He blushed more and more as he hunched around his tea as if it were a baby turtleduck.
Oh, good, it was something his nephew was embarrassed about.
“This was a bad idea. I’ll leave.” The Prince- no, the Fire Lord- set the tea down.
“No, you will not. Speak freely, Zuko. You know I will listen.”
Zuko picked the tea back up.
“Did. . . did you know men who were. . . with other men were killed while my grandfather ruled? And my- and Ozai? And the people that killed them would be. . . celebrated, even?” Zuko squirmed. Iroh hid his grimace in his tea.
“Yes, unfortunately.” Iroh remembered a time where if somebody was found to be sleeping too close to another person in the barracks, he might have sent them to the front lines. Especially if they were homosexuals.
He was glad, every day, that he was a different man. A learned man. A travelled man.
“And. . .And that’s ridiculous, right? Aang says that the Air Nomads thought love is love, and-”
“Zuko. I do not hate gay people, if that is what you are asking.”
“Oh! Good.” His nephew looked very relieved. “Because- because I have like that, friends, and-”
“Like Sokka?” He asked. “I heard that he appreciates all kinds of flower.”
“I- Well-” His nephew turned a crimson that rivalled his robes.
Oh.
Oh indeed.
He wasn’t going to say anything, but a lot about Zuko’s interaction with people his age was starting to make a lot of sense to the retired general.
“So what, um- what would one do, hypothetically, very hypothetically, you know how much I love my hypothetical. . . situations. . . If a person was, say, like- like an Earth King, maybe, let’s say, and there was this person that they saved the world with, so they’re very widely known, but the other guy- the other person- was seen as below the Earth King’s station, right? Let’s say that the Earth King really liked the other person, and wanted them to know that, and-”
“Zuko.” Iroh was trying not to grin into his tea.
“And maybe the Earth Lord wanted to date the water tribe warrior, and-”
“Zuko.”
“And didn’t know what to do about it-”
“Zuko, is there anything you would like to tell me about flowers?”
Zuko paused, confused, and then opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, only to make a sound like a dying turtle duck and thud his head on the low table. Iroh tried not to laugh.
“Was I that obvious?” He asked miserably after a moment were Iroh had a “coughing fit.”
“Oh, no. You were as subtle as the difference between summer and winter.” Iroh fake-placated him. “It is okay, Zuko.”
“Not really,”
“It is. I accept you. I really do. Please pick your head up.”
Zuko brought his head up, and if his forehead was especially red, Iroh couldn’t see under the thick blush that Zuko wore.
“So, would you like to ask me about this. . . Earth Lord, again?”