Archive of Our Own

In one of the many historical chambers deep within the Dragonbone Catacombs, Zuko sat cross-legged, lost in contemplation as he studied a flickering candle before him.

It was the only place in the Palace grounds where he felt any semblance of calm. He wasn’t entirely sure why it took a graveyard to get him to relax—and often tried not to think too hard about it—but he liked being here. He liked to spend time honoring the memory of Fire Lords who weren’t hellbent on destroying and conquering everything and everyone around them. He liked being somewhere that didn’t evoke any traumatizing memories from his childhood. (Though there had been that disastrous date he’d tried to have with Mai here – he’d thought, as a goth, that she would enjoy it, but she’d been surprisingly creeped out.) And he liked how quiet it was – no one disturbed him, except for Suki when it was urgent, and the Fire Sages who came to tend to the graves always kept to themselves. It was a great place to meditate, focus on his inner peace.

Though he wasn’t doing a great job of it today.

He’d had a strong sense of foreboding all day. He hadn’t been able to pinpoint what was causing it, but he kept waiting for the sound of Suki’s footsteps as she darted over to tell him about some emergency; kept waiting to hear the screech of a messenger hawk, ready to deliver unimaginably bad news.

None of that happened.

Instead, Zuko was broken out of his poor attempt at meditating by Appa’s deep roar, audible even in the underground chambers. Bolting upright, Zuko hurriedly made his way back through the maze of tunnels, scrambling out of the catacombs and arriving on the surface just in time for Appa to land right in front of him, nearly knocking him over with a huge gust of wind. Zuko looked up, expecting to see Aang sitting on Appa’s head, their friends in the saddle on his back.

But, strangely, the saddle was empty. Aang wasn’t sitting at the reins. Appa was, apparently, alone.

Dread clutched Zuko’s chest so tightly that he could barely breathe. This was definitely wrong.

“Appa?” he asked, placing his hand on Appa’s muzzle. “Where’s Aang?”

Appa bellowed, bending his head down to nudge Zuko urgently. Zuko stumbled, grabbing onto Appa’s fur to steady himself. He hadn’t seen Appa so distressed the war ended – most things were a lot calmer now that there wasn’t active fighting going on. Which could only mean one thing:

Aang was in trouble. Zuko had to go help him.

But he couldn’t just abandon his duties. There was always something that needed to be done, some papers that needed to be signed. He couldn’t just leave.

Zuko’s hands tightened in Appa’s fur. “I—”

“Fire Lord Zuko!”

Zuko glanced around Appa and saw Iroh quickly making his way up the path. He was visiting for a week, supposedly because the Jasmine Dragon was undergoing renovations and he couldn’t stand the noise. Zuko suspected, warmly, that he’d just made up an excuse to see him. He should figure out how to tell him that he didn’t need one – Zuko was always happy to see his uncle. He didn’t see him enough.

“I saw Appa fly in, thought you might be needed somewhere,” Iroh said as he walked up to Zuko. The look in his eyes was all too knowing. “I can watch over the Nation for a couple of days.”

Zuko frowned. “Are you sure? You said you didn’t want anything to do with—”

“I know what I said,” Iroh interrupted. “But I also said that you can rely on me when you need me, anytime. You always conveniently forget that part.” 

Zuko opened his mouth to protest, but abruptly realized that he didn’t want to. He wanted to make sure that Aang was okay. “…Thank you, Uncle.”

Iroh smiled and patted his shoulder. “No need to thank me. Go to your friend.”

Zuko gave him a brief hug and then climbed up onto Appa’s head. “Appa, yip yip!”

Appa roared and took off, soaring effortlessly into the sky. As they flew, Zuko focused on taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself. It was weird being at Appa’s reins alone, with no one else accompanying in the saddle. It only added to the dread he’d been feeling all morning, and he twisted his hands nervously around the reins. 

Appa grunted and pushed harder through the sky.

Before long, they entered the Patola Mountains, Appa expertly navigating through the tight spaces between each ridge. Zuko knew where they were going now – the Southern Air Temple. He’d been there twice before: once right after his banishment, when he’d been searching for the Avatar, and again just after the war ended. Aang had wanted to show his more recent friends the place where he grew up, and they’d thrown a small celebration for the end of the war there.

It had been a pretty depressing place, and that was saying a lot coming from Zuko. The destruction was evident everywhere – courtyards and rooms burned so intensively that only ash remained; broken cultural items and weapons scattered across every path; dilapidated buildings that now only held skeletons.

It was horrible. If anywhere showed the genocide so clearly, it was the Southern Air Temple.

But it was Aang’s home, and he’d talked about cleaning it up once he had some spare time.

By the looks of it as Appa flew in, however, Aang hadn’t gotten much done. The same patterns of destruction were still visible, even from the air. It was like a black scar, obscuring the once pristine and majestic temple that Zuko had seen in old picture books he’d uncovered in Earth Kingdom antique shops.

Appa touched down on a decrepit sky bison landing platform at the front of the temple. Zuko carefully dismounted, his legs unsteady for a moment from flying for so long, and then followed Appa into the main building. The temple was a maze – endless rooms and corridors, with countless little alcoves and secret passageways tucked into the walls. How the destruction reached even here, Zuko had no idea. The Fire Nation had, depressingly, been thorough.

Eventually, they entered a small room that must have been a bedroom at one time. Aang was sitting in a loft on the far side of the room, surrounded by garbage. It was an insane pile of miscellaneous objects, such as shattered pieces of pottery, broken cups and other utensils, and old rags. At first, Zuko couldn’t even process the scene until he saw Momo fly in through the open window and drop another cracked pot onto the loft next to Aang. He didn’t know why Momo was bringing Aang a never-ending stream of garbage, but at least it explained its presence somewhat.

It didn’t explain why Aang was just sitting there, letting it happen.

“Aang?” Zuko asked softly. There wasn’t a ladder leading up to the loft—airbending privileges only—so all he could do was stand at the foot of it and look up at Aang. “Are you okay?”

Aang reacted slowly, but eventually poked his head over the side of the loft. There was a hollow look in his eyes that made Zuko uneasy. “…Zuko? What are you doing here?”

“Appa brought me.” Appa walked up behind Zuko and nudged Aang with his huge snout. Aang placed his hand on Appa’s nose, petting him softly. “What’s going on, Aang?”

Aang kept his gaze steadily on Appa. “…Katara and I broke up.”

“…Oh,” Zuko said, and then cringed. What kind of response was that?! Oh. What a stupid thing to say. “That sucks.”

…That might have been even worse than the Oh.

Thankfully, Aang didn’t seem to care, merely shrugging a shoulder. “It does suck. But the worst part is that I’m kind of relieved.” 

Zuko waited for Aang to elaborate, not trusting himself to say anything eloquent in the meantime. Momo flew in and dropped a rather large brick dangerously close to Aang’s head, and he sighed heavily as he airbent it into the rest of the pile. “It was so hard the last few months. I could never make any time for her. Everyone always wanted something – desperate refugees, landowners squabbling over territory, officials who don’t know how to get along with anyone. Not to mention all the petty disputes!”

Zuko winced – he probably hadn’t helped in that regard, with all the shit he’d had going on that he’d needed Aang’s help with, too.

“And I know it’s my duty to take care of all that, to take care of the world. And I want to help people who are suffering – there’s still so much to do even now that the war’s over.” Aang buried his face in his knees. “So I had to keep canceling on Katara. She was always understanding, but who could live like that, constantly being brushed off by the person they love? She eventually decided that she couldn’t. She’d already spent most of her life waiting for her father to come home – she didn’t want to wait for her lover, too. And I don’t blame her. It just…it completely caught me off-guard. I didn’t think anything would ever keep us apart.”  

Zuko looked down. He understood perfectly. When Mai had broken up with him, claiming she couldn’t live with his secrets anymore, he’d been shocked, devastated. He hadn’t seen it coming at all. But he’d gotten so bogged down by all of his responsibilities that he’d somehow managed to forget about the person who he’d thought meant more to him than anything else.

“And then I came back here and saw how messy everything still is because I haven’t had time to clean up and—!” Aang broke off, a fragile tremor strangling his voice. “How am I supposed to balance it all? I’m the Avatar, I’m responsible for the entire world – but I’m also the only one keeping my culture alive, and I don’t think I’m doing very well at either one. On top of all that, I can’t even make time for the woman I love, my friends. I mean, I haven’t seen you either for—”

He cut off again, gesturing uselessly, “—I don’t even know how long.”

It did seem unfair – it was too much for one person to handle. And Aang had a caring nature; he would do just about anything to help anyone and everyone he came across, even if it was detrimental to him.

Zuko glanced around the room, trying to think of something useful to say. Even this tiny bedroom reflected the destruction that the Fire Nation had caused, the grief that Aang was still dealing with. Scrolls had been torn off the walls and now slumped in shredded piles on the floor. Beneath Momo’s pile of debris, something, perhaps old hay for sky bison, was strewn all over the floor, charred and black. Anything else that may have once been in the room had long since turned to ash and blown away.

Zuko couldn’t fix any of Aang’s other problems. But maybe he could help him with this.

“…Let’s clean up the temple,” he blurted out.

Aang glanced at him, startled. “What?”

Zuko met Aang’s gaze and put his hand over his. “We can work on cleaning up the temple together. I don’t know how to solve anything else that you’re dealing with, but I can help you with this.”

Aang just blinked at him for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words. “But the Fire Nation—”

“My uncle said he can cover for me for a few days. He also says not to, uh…” Zuko scratched his head, trying to remember his uncle’s advice. It was ridiculous that he could never remember any of it – he heard it all the time, to the point where sometimes his own thoughts sounded like his uncle. “Not to leave any messy dishes in the sink, or rot will form. Or something.”

It got a smile out of Aang, at least. He slowly unfurled and stood, brushing black dirt off his pants. “Well, who am I to disregard Uncle Iroh? …Thanks, Zuko.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Aang glanced at Zuko curiously, and Zuko gave him a small grin. “There’s a reason why I don’t do my own dishes.”

Aang laughed, and the dread twisting Zuko’s stomach finally dissipated.

--

The first thing they did was clean up the graveyard.

On the trip to the temple they’d made after the war was over, Zuko and the others had helped Aang give Monk Gyatso and the other monks a proper air burial. Air Nomads believed that the bodies of the deceased best honored the world by providing nutrients for life that still remained, so they were traditionally laid out on the north hill for raven-vultures to eat. The bodies at that point had already decomposed too much to feed raven-vultures, so they’d instead carefully crushed the bones and arranged them among the rocks for eagle-hawks and other animals. All the while, Aang had burned incense and told humorous stories of each and every body they could identify, even as tears streamed down his cheeks.

All of the remains were gone now, but Aang had decorated the north hill with small, flat stones to memorialize those who had departed. It was hard to avoid air-borne debris up in the mountains, however, so the graves had since been covered in leaves, dust, and bird feathers.

Seeing the mess, Aang almost stalled right then and there, his back slumped, but Momo leaping from his shoulder and soaring out over the gravestones got him moving again. Zuko followed him, reading the names that Aang had carefully carved into the stones as they went. He wanted to remember their names, if he could do nothing else.

As they walked through the graveyard, Zuko noticed the distinct absence of plants. Without sky bison grazing on dominant grasses to keep them in check, most of the native grasses were missing from the hillside. Any other plants that might have grown here had long since been burned away by the Fire Nation, leaving only a few persistent weeds in their place.

But they weren’t completely gone. As Zuko brushed dirt and debris off of one of the graves—representing Monk Norbu—he discovered a small wildflower growing along the edge of the stone. It had a pinkish-purple flower with a bright yellow center and eight distinctive petals. It was incredible to Zuko that something so small and seemingly fragile had survived against all odds, clinging stubbornly to a cliffside that was almost completely barren otherwise.

His heart ached as he looked at it, reaching out to gently touch the soft petals.

“Maybe we could plant more wildflowers here,” Zuko said. Further up from him, Aang tore his gaze from Monk Gyatso’s grave. “That way there will always be flowers for the monks. And I assume they’re native.”

Aang joined Zuko at Monk Norbu’s grave and smiled as he bent down to look at the little flower. “That sounds great! I don’t know what they’re called, though.”

“My uncle probably knows.” Zuko looked out at the rest of the gravestones. “If there’s more than one, I’ll take one back with me to see if he can identify it.”

Aang nodded, standing again as he also stared out across the field. “I’m sure there’s more, they used to be everywhere—”

His eyes brightened and he leaped away, his airbending sending him practically to the other end of the graveyard. He bent down and then triumphantly returned to Zuko with another small wildflower in his hand.

“You can take this one back to Uncle Iroh – and be sure to thank him for me,” Aang said softly, a wobbly smile on his face as he offered Zuko the flower.

“Of course,” Zuko murmured, taking the flower and storing it carefully in the sleeve of his robe.

By the time he and Aang finished with the graveyard, the sun was already starting to set. They hadn’t gotten much done, but it felt good regardless. The Southern Air Temple was beautiful, and the monks who had called this place home deserved to have just as beautiful of a space dedicated to them. And, to Zuko’s relief, Aang seemed less dispirited, even laughing a little as Momo scampered around his shoulders chasing a bug.

Back in the courtyard, Zuko started a small campfire, which he and Aang huddled around as Aang fixed mung bean and tofu curry. It was just about the only dish that Aang knew how to make, but it always came out good, and it made Zuko a little nostalgic as he ate it. It felt like a long time since he and Aang and the rest of their friends had camped out at the Western Air Temple and Ember Island, eating whatever the five of them could scrounge up for themselves. Though the fate of the world had rested on their shoulders, it had also been a time of freedom, a far cry from the responsibilities that kept them all occupied and, for the most part, away from each other now.

Aang suddenly chuckled, and Zuko glanced up at him. When Aang caught his eye, he smiled and said, “I was just thinking about that time when Momo made Sokka spill his curry all over himself. Even with Katara’s help, I think his shirt was sticky for days afterwards.”

Zuko smirked. “I remember. I offered to help dry it, but he thought I would burn it, so he just left it like that.”

Aang laughed outright, setting his bowl aside as he leaned back on his hands. “That all feels like such a long time ago.”

Zuko stared down at the fire. “I was just thinking the same thing. Obviously we were under a lot of stress and pressure back then, but it was also…a lot of fun.”

Aang’s smile turned sad. “…Yeah, it was.”

They sat in silence for a moment until Aang let out a huge yawn. “Sorry, Zuko, but I think I need to hit the hay. Appa, Momo, and I were up early to get here from the Southern Water Tribe.”

Zuko’s chest ached. The Southern Water Tribe and the Southern Air Temple weren’t far away from each other at all – just the travel distance alone wouldn’t have warranted getting up early. He could guess what Aang’s real reason was for leaving early, but he wasn’t going to call him out on it. “That’s fine. We can get an early start on cleaning tomorrow.”

Aang stretched and airbent himself to his feet. “Well, there’s a lot of options for sleeping – there’s the old bedrooms, the sky bison stables, Appa. Take your pick, hotman.”

Zuko snorted out a laugh. “Sometimes I forget you’re like a thousand years old and then you blurt out stuff like that.”

“Hey! I’m only a hundred and eighteen!” Aang protested, but he was smiling. “Are you seriously telling me no one calls each other ‘hotman’ in the Fire Nation anymore? It used to be hotman this, hotman that. You see, my friend Kuzon—”

“Was playing an elaborate prank on you,” Zuko interrupted, biting back a grin of his own. “Even my great-grandfather never called anyone ‘hotman’.”

“So you’ve said, but I was actually there a hundred years ago, so I think I know what I’m talking about.”

Zuko shook his head, amused. “I can sleep anywhere, it doesn’t—”

He cut off as he suddenly realized that he’d brought absolutely nothing with him. He’d been in such a hurry to go to Aang that he hadn’t even thought to pack a bag. “—Uh, well, actually, I don’t even have a sleeping bag or anything…”

Aang grinned slyly. “We can share a bed then, I don’t mind.”

But Zuko certainly did. “I’d rather share with Appa, actually.”

Aang’s grin stretched wider. “That’s what I meant! There’s no way I’m sleeping in that bed in my old loft – it was always the worst part of the temple. Also it was meant for someone who’s like four feet tall.”

Zuko snorted. Aang used to be around four feet tall, but over the years he’d grown much taller, annoyingly even taller than Zuko. Now that he thought about it, that loft Aang had been in earlier had seemed comically small, but it hadn’t been the time to laugh about such things.

They made their way over to where Appa was laying comfortably under a large stone awning overlooking the Patola Mountains. He licked Aang as they approached, then Zuko, rumbling softly in what Zuko assumed was a greeting.

“Ugh, hello to you too, Appa,” Zuko grumbled, trying in vain to wipe the saliva off his face.

Aang gave Appa a big hug, rubbing his muzzle affectionately, and then proceeded to flop down face first onto one of his fluffy forelegs. After a moment of hesitation, Zuko took up what used to be Katara’s usual spot on Appa’s middle leg, right next to Aang. He wasn’t sure if it was appropriate, but after years of having Katara sleeping right next to him, he didn’t want Aang to be starkly reminded of her absence every time he laid down to sleep.

Aang blinked at him in surprise, then smiled sleepily. “Night, Zuko. Thanks for coming to help me out.”

“Of course,” Zuko replied, his voice dropping to a whisper as he added, “You know I’d do anything for you.”

But Aang was already asleep, his face relaxed and his breathing deep. Appa’s breathing was equally slow, his soft snuffles and Momo’s chitters comforting and familiar.

Zuko turned onto his back, staring up at the high awning. He was tired from the events of the day, but found himself unable to sleep. Despite Appa’s warmth, the temple was freezing now that the sun was down, so he spent a few minutes blowing fire breath onto his hands. Even after he warmed up, however, his brain wouldn’t shut up. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about why Appa had chosen him to come support Aang. Out of all of their friends and family, Appa had flown to the Fire Islands for Zuko’s help. It was obvious why he hadn’t chosen Katara, but what about Sokka, Toph, Suki? What could Zuko offer that the rest of them couldn’t?

He tried not to read more into it than what was really there, but it wasn’t like he could just ask Appa what he’d meant by it. So his brain turned it over and over and over, trying to figure it out. He didn’t know why it meant so much for him to know, why it was so important.

But it was.

Zuko glanced at Aang again, still asleep with his mouth wide open and Momo curled over his eyes. Regardless of why, he was glad he was here to support Aang after everything he’d done for him over the years.

He reached out to put a comforting hand on Aang’s shoulder, then thought better of it and turned onto his other side.

--

Zuko almost always had nightmares.

He’d had them for as long as he could remember. Nightmares of his family—his mother leaving, his sister tormenting him, his father scarring him—of his responsibilities, of his regrets. There was so much of his life that he still hadn’t processed, and his brain forced him through each of those moments in a never-ending cycle night after night.

But when he woke the next morning at the air temple, still curled in Appa’s warm fur, he realized that he’d slept peacefully for the first time in…he couldn’t even remember how long. It was so quiet here at the temple. There was a sinister, haunting feeling behind that, but at the same time it made Zuko feel safe. No one was coming to assassinate or otherwise harm him here. No one was going to rush in, informing him of some emergency he had to deal with. The memories of his family didn’t lurk around every corner.

It was…soothing.

Zuko rolled over, looking for Aang, but both he and Momo were gone. He relished his tranquil solitude for a moment and then got up, combed his fingers through his hair as best as he could, and went to find them.

It took a bit of searching, as Zuko was still largely unfamiliar with the layout of the temple, but he eventually spotted Aang sitting in the middle of a large, circular stone plaza that overlooked the mountains and the clouds. He was sitting cross-legged with his fists pressed together, his eyes closed.

Zuko watched him for a moment. The sun was just starting to rise, and it cast Aang in a brilliant glow. His eyes trailed the curve of Aang’s jaw, the smoothness of his skin before he could force himself to look away. That part of the temple was inaccessible to people who couldn’t airbend, and Zuko knew not to disturb his meditation anyway, so he went about finding something to throw together for breakfast. 

He discovered a single moon peach tree along one of the lower paths of the temple – Momo sat in the branches, already munching away on his breakfast. As Zuko came up to pick some of the peaches for himself and Aang, Momo gripped his moon peach in his mouth and flew over to land on his shoulder, chittering directly into his ear.

“Good morning to you, too,” Zuko said, rubbing Momo’s head gently.

He picked enough for a decent meal and then headed back up the mountain, Momo still eating his own peach on his shoulder. When he came back to the stone plaza, Aang blinked his eyes open, unfurling as he twisted in Zuko’s direction. “Do I smell moon peaches?” 

Zuko smiled, sitting down with the bowl of peaches beside him. “You do.”

With a big gust of air, Aang propelled himself from his meditation spot to where Zuko was, nearly planting his feet directly into the peaches Zuko had just picked.

Zuko moved the bowl out of the way just in time with a grunt of annoyance. “Hey, watch where you’re going!”

“Sorry,” Aang said, not sounding sorry at all as he took the bowl from Zuko and picked out a peach.

After a quick breakfast, they spent the day cleaning up debris in the halls and rooms, sorting anything that wasn’t salvageable into piles for Zuko to carefully burn. If it was fire-resistant, they dumped it in a separate pile for Appa to take away from the temple.

While Zuko was exploring one corner of the temple, searching for more debris, he stumbled across an old Fire Nation army helmet. He picked it up, hands trembling as he examined it. The helmet was chipped and faded with age, but otherwise pristine. The fact that it was so well-preserved in a temple that showed its damage on every inch of its surface was abhorrent.

Anger coursed through him, intense in a way that it hadn’t been since he was a teenager. He strode to the cliffside and tossed the army helmet as hard as he could, watching as it disappeared over the edge and plummeted through the clouds below.

In the afternoon, they focused their attention on cleaning up and restoring a balcony pavilion. Zuko continued removing debris while Aang earthbent the balcony back into shape. The amount of painstaking detail it required surprised Zuko a bit – Aang spent hours tweaking each corner, each spacing between the railings, in extreme concentration as he tried to get every little thing right. Just as he remembered it.

After a while, he grunted with frustration and flopped onto his back. “I can’t get it right! I know something’s off, but I can’t, I can’t—”

He covered his eyes with his arm. His voice was raw as he spat out, “I can’t remember.”

Zuko let go of the rubble he’d been attempting to shove out of the pavilion and came over to sit beside Aang. “Hey, let’s take a break. We can try again later, when you’re fresh.”

“…I just hate that I can’t remember.” Aang sniffed audibly and wiped at his face. “I used to stand on that balcony all the time throwing pies at the other monks with Monk Gyatso.”

Zuko blinked, unsure if he’d heard right. “Pies?”

“Yeah.” Aang’s grin slowly crept back onto his face. “Monk Gyatso made the best lemon pies, for eating and for throwing. We used to test my aim with airbending by dropping them on people’s heads.”

Zuko chuckled. He could hardly even imagine such a thing, but it was pure Aang.

“Monk Gyatso taught me his recipe – I still remember that, at least. We grew the lemons in the orchard over there—” Aang pointed off into the distance, though his hand quickly sagged. When Zuko turned to look, he grimaced at the sight of the black patch of earth that was all that remained of the orchard. “…Well, I guess we’d have to import them, now.”

He was obviously trying to maintain his cheery mood, but his voice had fallen flat again.

Zuko put a hand on his arm. “We’ll have to find some people to throw them at, too.”

Aang grinned at him, though his smile was shaky. “I’ll get started on making a list.”

They didn’t get much more done after that – they were both exhausted from the work they’d already done, and Aang’s sorrow had taken hold of him again. So instead, they went up to the Alta of Remembrance’s slanted roof, right above the sanctuary dedicated to past Avatars. It was a bit of a dangerous climb for non-airbenders, but it was the perfect spot to lay on their backs and watch the sun set and the stars start to peek out.

“This is my favorite place in the whole temple,” Aang whispered. “I used to come up here all the time to stare at the stars and watch the lemurs and sky bison glide by.”

“I can see why – it’s beautiful,” Zuko murmured. He could just make out the drum constellation, glowing brighter as the light of the sun disappeared.

As a firebender, nighttime always made him somewhat uncomfortable, a gaping emptiness left in the place where his inner fire usually was. But he loved the constellations – he’d spent hours as a kid staring up at them from the rooftops of the Fire Palace, memorizing each one. He always felt less alone when he could identify the stars around him, like the constellations were his celestial companions.

It was weird to think that, a hundred years ago, Aang was doing the exact same thing.

“I used to look up at the constellations all the time, too,” Zuko said softly. Aang turned his head to look at him. “I learned what each of them were, all of their stories. I used to talk to them a lot – about my family, or what I was learning about in school. I guess they were my imaginary friends, in a way.”

He laughed at himself. “I’m sure that sounds pathetic.”

“No, I think it’s sweet,” Aang said, smiling. “There is something comforting about them, how constant they are. …I’m so glad that this roof, this view, is the same.”

He suddenly started to cry. Zuko flinched, his arm jerking out towards Aang, unsure of what to do. He’d never been good at comfort.

He thought about what Katara or Sokka would do and slowly moved to wrap his arms around Aang. He felt stiff and awkward, not sure if it was the right gesture for the moment, or if he was even doing it right, or if he was hugging him too tightly—

Aang wrapped his arms around him in turn, breaking Zuko out of his spiraling anxiety. He tucked his face in his chest, and Zuko held him until they both drifted off to sleep. 

--

The next morning, Zuko woke to a messenger hawk perched on his chest, tilting its head inquisitively at him. He blinked at it a few times, uncomprehending, until he realized it wasn’t just any messenger hawk, but Jasmine – the one Zuko used specifically for corresponding with his uncle. Jasmine chirped at him, her claws careful not to puncture him as she stepped forward and nuzzled his chin with her head.

Zuko rubbed her beak affectionately as he unfurled the letter from her canister.

Dearest Nephew,

Do you know how long you’ll be gone? I hate to bother you, but in the last f ew da ys we’ve had several issues crop up that require your attention. I took care of one—Tanaka complaining about his taxes again—but the others are more complex. Republic City planning has been stalled again – something about bickering construction companies. And the Fire Council is still waiting to hear your opinion about …

Zuko set the letter down with a long sigh. He knew, logically, that there was no way he could stay here at the Southern Air Temple with Aang forever, but it would’ve been nice to have just a few more days. He wanted to make sure that Aang would be alright. But as usual, responsibilities came first – Iroh couldn’t run the Fire Nation forever, and despite how long politicians mucked around themselves, they were never patient when it came to waiting for someone else.

He understood suddenly why Katara had been so frustrated with it. World politics would always take precedence over everything else, no matter how much any of them might wish otherwise.

Zuko took the pen out of Jasmine’s canister and scribbled a quick response to Iroh, telling him that he’d be back soon. He fed Jasmine a few treats he had in his pockets for Momo and then lifted his arm to send her on her way. She took off with a screech, and he watched her gracefully navigate through the surrounding mountains.

“Was that Iroh?” Aang mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. He was closer than Zuko had expected, and he flinched. He’d somehow forgotten that they’d fallen asleep curled up together.

“…Yeah.” Zuko sighed. “Apparently there are several large fires waiting for me back in the Fire Nation. Ones I can’t put out with firebending, I mean.”

Aang smiled at the poor attempt at a joke. “I should probably get back, too. The Earth King’s been waiting to hear back from me for a while…”

They laid in silence for a moment, lost in their own thoughts. The sudden reminder of responsibilities felt intrusive after spending a few days with just each other and the restoration work in front of them. It had felt good to work with his hands, to do something concrete with visible and immediate results instead of just endless meetings, decisions, paperwork that he knew would one day be important, but rarely felt that way in the moment. 

And he’d enjoyed spending time with Aang like this. Though the situation definitely could’ve been better, it’d been a while since they’d gotten the chance to hang out without the responsibilities of the world hanging over them.

He’d missed him.

They shared a quick breakfast and then flew back to the Fire Palace later that morning. Aang was silent and sullen the entire time – Zuko sat in the saddle watching him, wishing there was more he could do. He struggled to think of something to say to take his mind off of everything, but couldn’t come up with a single thing by the time they made it back to the Fire Nation and Appa landed in the clearing outside the Palace.

He was about to dismount, kicking himself for being so bad at this, when Aang broke the silence.

“Zuko, would you, um…” Aang fidgeted with Appa’s reins, not looking at him. “I know neither of us have a lot of free time, but would you be willing to help me with the Southern Air Temple again sometime?”

He was surprisingly fragile in a way that Zuko wasn’t used to seeing from Aang. In a way, though, it was good to see – Aang often hid his emotions behind fake smiles and cheer, feeling like he had to stay strong as the Avatar. But even the Avatar couldn’t be positive about everything.

And this was something that Zuko could do, some small comfort he could give.

“Of course – just let me know,” Zuko said, placing his hand on Aang’s shoulder. “I’ll fit it in.”

Aang blinked at him, surprised somehow, and then smiled warmly. “Thanks, hotman.”

Zuko shook his head in exasperation at the nickname as he slid off Appa. He waved goodbye, watching Aang and Appa fly off until they were just a tiny speck in the sky.

--

The following month, Zuko traveled to the Southern Water Tribe for a work meeting. It was an excuse more than anything – Hakoda could’ve waited, as the current trade routes between his tribe and the Fire Nation were functional if not efficient.

But he wanted to check on Katara. He hadn’t heard from her at all since Aang told him about their break-up. He and Katara didn’t write to each other that often, but still – the silence felt telling.

He had some time before his meeting with Hakoda, so he went looking for Katara as soon as he arrived. The Southern Water Tribe was booming compared to the last time he had been here – there seemed to be at least ten times as many citizens and buildings, as well as fish markets, elaborate ice sculptures, and road and water channels winding throughout, both filled with traffic. It was a far cry from the tiny village Zuko had seen when he’d first met everyone. There were even a fair amount of people who appeared to be from the Earth Kingdom, and even the Fire Nation – so much so that no one looked twice at Zuko as he walked through town, despite how obvious his scar and regalia were.

He turned onto the road where Katara and Sokka’s igloo was and found Sokka crouched on the ice outside, surrounded by a heap of electrical wires. He seemed deep in thought as he stared at them, but looked up when Zuko walked towards him.

“Zuko!” Sokka shouted, grinning as he stood and waved.

Zuko smiled and waved back. Sokka was obviously in the middle of another one of his projects – after the war, he had become inspired to invent all kinds of things, from mobility devices to household gadgets and whatever else he could think of to make life easier. He certainly had a knack for it, as was evident during the war, and Zuko was always glad to see that he was able to channel his genius towards something that didn’t involve fighting and killing.

“Hi, Sokka,” Zuko said, stopping next to him. “What are you working on this time?”

Sokka stepped aside with a flare, triumphantly revealing a flat vehicle that had been sitting behind him. It had two wheels in the back and what looked like a snow plow in the front. “See for yourself!”

He turned on the engine, which rumbled loudly for a long time before abruptly dying with a sad hiss.

“Darn it!” Sokka groaned, throwing himself back into his machine. “I could’ve sworn I fixed that! Maybe if I move this over here…”

Zuko shook his head, trying not to smile. “Do you know where I can find Katara?”

Sokka snorted and gestured vaguely behind him. “She’s building homes for refugees on the outskirts of town, of course. Where else would she be?” 

Zuko thanked him and continued on down the road. He found Katara right where Sokka said she’d be – on the outskirts of town, pulling a massive amount of water out of the nearby channels as she froze and shaped it into a building. She glanced up as he approached, her focused frown breaking into a grin. “Zuko!”

“Hi, Katara,” he said, returning the hug she gave him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked when she pulled back. “Dad said we probably wouldn’t be meeting with you for a few more months.”

“Officially? Talking about trade routes,” Zuko said, searching her face. “But I really came to see you.”

She frowned. “Me? Why would you—?”

She must have seen something in his expression, for her face quickly fell. She stared down at the ground, grasping one of her elbows. “…Aang told you we broke up, didn’t he?”

“…Yeah,” Zuko murmured. “I wanted to see if you were okay.”

She glanced out at the tundra, then back at him with a sad smile. “That’s sweet of you, I appreciate it. I’m doing okay. Keeping busy helps.”

Zuko nodded, suddenly unsure of what to say. He’d rehearsed what he could say that might comfort her before he came here, but now, in the moment, he couldn’t remember any of it.

She sighed and sat down in the snow. Zuko joined her after a moment, when it was clear that she wasn’t continuing her work. “I know I’m not really allowed to be upset about it, since I’m the one who broke things off, but…” 

“Of course you’re allowed to be upset about it,” Zuko interjected. “You love each other, but it didn’t work out. That’d make anyone upset.”

She smiled weakly, putting her hand on his knee. “Thanks. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I think it was the right one. I’m still not feeling great, but I feel better than I did…before.”

“Aang said a similar thing, if that helps any,” Zuko said.

“It does. I’m hoping we can at least remain friends,” Katara said, absentmindedly pulling some water from the snow and freezing it again. “Though I’m going to give Aang some time before bringing it up.” 

“I’m sure it’ll happen. Not much can shake your bond, I think.”

Her lower lip wobbled. He looked away, giving her space to feel.

“…Thanks for letting me get that off my chest,” Katara said after a while, straightening up. She waterbent the tears off her face, flicking them into the water channel in front of them. “Sokka’s great, but he really is the worst to talk to about romance.”

Zuko huffed out a laugh. “I’m surprised I’m any better than him, but I’m glad I could help.”

She glanced at him, then said carefully, “You went through a similar thing with Mai, didn’t you?”

Zuko stared down at his lap. It had been long enough that it didn’t hurt as much anymore, but sometimes the lingering pain of it still caught him by surprise. “…Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Then you know how it feels,” Katara continued. “It helps to talk to someone who knows what it’s like.”

“…Then I’ll tell you this.” Zuko met her eyes. “It does get easier, eventually. It doesn’t fully go away, but it won’t always feel like…this.”

She nodded her head slowly. “I’ll remind myself of that on my bad days.”

Zuko took her hand, squeezing it tightly as they gazed out at the snowy tundra in comfortable silence.

He spent a few more days at the Southern Water Tribe after that, meeting with Hakoda and helping out with chores and repairs wherever he could. Katara and Sokka took him on a tour of the new fish market, and then on a boat across the water channels, showing him how everything had changed.

All of it was beautiful, nearly enough to drive him to tears.

He wanted to stay longer, but duty called, as it always did. As he was getting ready to board the ship heading home, a messenger hawk landed on his shoulder. This time it was Bian, the one he used to talk to Aang. The message inside his canister read: Zuko, would you be able to help with the Southern Air Temple next week?

Zuko did some quick math in his head. He’d have to move some meetings around, but it was doable. He wrote back as much and then raised his arm, sending Bian on his way.

When he turned back to Katara and Sokka, who had come to see him off, Katara’s smile was sad. “Keep an eye on him for me.”

Zuko gave her another hug. “I will.”

Sokka hugged him too, and for a moment they just stood there like that, relishing in the comfort of each other.

--

Restoring the Southern Air Temple became routine. Every few months or so, Aang and Appa would come pick him up and they’d stay at the temple for a few days while they worked.

It was a nice break from his duties as Fire Lord, which were stressful and complex and never-ending. The temple, while a huge task in its own right, on small scales presented problems with simple solutions. The main hall needed to be cleared of rubble. The orchard needed weeding so they could replant it someday. The statues and murals needed cleaning and restoration. And though the tasks were straightforward, they demanded enough of his attention that he wasn’t consumed by the near-constant anxiety of being Fire Lord. He wasn’t thinking about upcoming meetings, decisions he had to make, people he had to appease.

Instead, he thought about the Air Nomads who had once lived here, including Aang. Every cranny of this place held some sort of memory, some sort of significance. While they worked, Aang talked endlessly about his culture and Zuko soaked it all in, writing everything down in a little journal so he wouldn’t forget. He owed Aang this much – his family had tried to permanently destroy his people, his culture, so Zuko would make damned sure they weren’t forgotten or lost.

As he learned more and more, he came to love everything about the temple. After working on it for months, he knew it as well as he knew the Fire Palace, maybe even better. He knew every stone, every alcove, every statue. He knew all of the pathways that wound around the mountainside, the landing pads for sky bison, the council chambers and bedrooms, the sanctuaries for flying lemurs, the murals depicting Air Nomad history.

Every bit of it was beautiful and intricate, and whenever he thought about his great-grandfather sending an army to destroy it, it made his blood boil. It felt good to help undo at least some of the insurmountable damage that had been done.

And working on it was inspiring him to make some changes at home, too.

When he was sixteen, he had longed for nothing but to return home, to be allowed back into his family’s house and his honor and his routine. But now that he was back, it didn’t feel like home anymore. A lot of the people he cherished weren’t there, though it helped that Suki, Ty Lee, and the other Kyoshi Warriors had permanently moved in, that Mai was nearby, and that Iroh stayed there whenever he visited. Even then, though, every corner held a memory, but unlike at the air temple, these memories were all horrific or depressing or anxiety-inducing.

Zuko had been Fire Lord for almost five years, but he had yet to make any changes to the dreadful place.

However, after seeing Aang lighten up more and more each time they restored an area of the temple, he decided that he needed to make some home improvements, too. He started by tearing out the old war room and throne room, replacing them with meeting rooms and work spaces. He then remodeled the Agni Kai chamber into a less threatening training facility, making sure that none of the original layout remained. He changed his family’s old bedrooms into more cheerful rooms for the Kyoshi Warriors and remodeled his own bedroom. He put in large windows across the whole Palace to let in light. He cleaned and modernized the komodo rhino and messenger hawk pens, turning them into pristine sanctuaries.

Once he’d done all that, he turned his attention to areas just outside the Palace, too. Almost all of the houses in Caldera City that immediately surrounded the Palace were abandoned, as many of the generals and other high-ranking war officials who’d lived there were arrested as war criminals shortly after the war ended. A lot of the houses had also been damaged or completely burned down. Mai and her family still lived in one of the intact houses, but Zuko decided to repair and open the rest of them to refugees and low-income families who couldn’t afford to have a roof over their heads.

And finally, perhaps the most surprising change of all, he took up gardening.

He didn’t know why exactly, but when he and his uncle had met up with an Order of the White Lotus member in Misty Palms Oasis and he’d been stuck waiting outside, he’d really taken to the various flowers and plants around the shop. They smelled nice, and held a casual beauty that made Zuko feel strangely relaxed. For someone who rarely felt relaxed, the experience had really stuck with him.

He’d seen beautiful plants and flowers growing all over the world during his travels, though he hadn’t appreciated them at the time, so he decided to grow them in a greenhouse he built in an old weapons room. He was currently growing fire lilies, other Fire Nation flowers, and jasmine and other tea plants for his uncle. He’d also asked his friends for plants from their homelands. Katara and Sokka had sent him some snowy saxifrage, hardy little plants that grew in the brief summer months when ice didn’t completely cover the continent. Suki had given him some golden lilies that only grew on Kyoshi Island, and Toph, in typical Toph fashion, had simply stomped on the ground, shooting out a bunch of plum blossom seeds that smacked Zuko right in the forehead.

“I like these,” she’d said, which was dubious, but they grew up into small white flowers that smelled nice and she had picked them specifically out of the no doubt thousands of seeds germinating beneath the earth, so Zuko was growing them with just as much care.

He was also growing Air Nomad plants. Iroh had identified the wildflower that he and Aang found at the air temple graveyard as a galsang flower, the flower of happiness, so Zuko had a whole section dedicated to those. After hearing Aang’s pie-throwing stories and seeing the burnt orchard, he had also decided to try growing some lemon trees. He’d traded some of his plants for lemon seeds in Yu Dao, and they were just now finally old enough to be transplanted.

He was proud of what he’d accomplished, but for some reason he was finding it difficult to tell Aang and his uncle that he had a greenhouse, that he was growing these plants for them. His other friends had already teased him enough about it – what on Earth would those two think if they found out? No one had ever heard of a Fire Lord interested in gardening.

He had mentioned his other renovations, however, so Aang was paying him a visit to see all of the work that he’d done. Zuko was looking forward to showing him – he was rather proud of himself, and thought that the Palace was infinitely improved. Suki and Ty Lee had given their approval anyway, and so had Mai, surprisingly.

“Just because I’m a goth doesn’t mean I want everything to be doom and gloom all the time,” she’d snapped when Zuko had questioned her about it. They were slowly becoming friends again after Zuko had come to her family’s flower shop to purchase a lot of the seeds he was currently growing in his greenhouse, which was a relief. Things between them had been awkward for a long time, but Zuko still cared about her and was glad to be able to count her as a friend. “It was always so depressing in here. What kind of firebender wants to constantly sit in the dark with no access to the sun?”

She had a point. Zuko wasn’t sure if it was just access to the sun making him feel better, but he was much more relaxed inside the Palace’s walls now. Less memories of his family were always good, too.

And because of all the new windows, he could see when Aang and Appa arrived. He went out into the courtyard, waving as Appa slowly descended towards him. Aang waved back, a huge grin on his face.

“Your Fieriness!” Aang shouted as he airbent himself off of Appa’s head and landed on the ground in front of Zuko. He tapped his fist to his palm and bowed, always jokingly formal. “Thank you for allowing Appa, Momo, and I into your esteemed home.”

Zuko rolled his eyes, but bowed back anyway. “Avatar Aang. I trust you found the place alright?”

Aang straightened with a smirk. “The place looks so different, we almost got lost several times. I even thought we were on the wrong continent at first! I’m glad we finally made it!”

Zuko laughed and returned the hug Aang gave him. “I’m glad, too. It’s good to see you, Aang.”

Aang patted his back cheerfully. “You too!”

As they pulled back from the hug, Appa walked up and nuzzled Zuko, licking a huge stripe across his entire body. Zuko grunted, dripping wet as he rubbed Appa’s nose. He needed to start wearing a raincoat when Aang visited. “Ugh, good to see you too, Appa.” 

Aang chuckled as Zuko tried in vain to wipe Appa’s spittle off his robe, eventually giving up and just starting the tour anyway. After all, one of his changes was directly related to Appa – he had cleaned up one of the old komodo rhino pens specifically for Appa to use when he and Aang visited. Shockingly, none of the previous Fire Lords had ever felt the need to install a resting place for a sky bison, so Zuko had crafted his own. It consisted of a giant bed of hay beneath an overhang, to protect Appa from various weather, but was otherwise totally open, as he knew how much he hated feeling trapped. It also had adjacent grassy areas where the komodo rhinos used to feed, as well as a fire-powered heat lamp under the overhang.

Aang grinned widely when he saw the space, reaching up to bury his hand in Appa’s fur. “This is great! What do you think, buddy?”

Appa walked under the overhang, smashing his feet into the hay piled next to the heat lamp. He turned in several circles and then flopped onto his side with a huge gust of air that nearly blew Momo right off Aang’s shoulder. Appa let out a lazy groan as Aang laughed. “He likes it!”

Zuko smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Momo hopped onto Zuko’s shoulder, staring directly into his face as if to say, Where’s my new pad?

Zuko chuckled and rubbed his head. “Sorry, Momo, but after you snuck into the messenger hawks’ pen and wreaked havoc that one time, I don’t think I can trust you to stay over here.”

Momo’s ears flopped down – he looked so dejected that Zuko almost caved, but then Aang smiled and said, “Don’t fall for it, Zuko. He’s just messing with you.”

Zuko narrowed his eyes at Momo. “It’s rude to play with people’s feelings like that.”

Momo blinked at him with wide, innocent eyes, and then hopped back to Aang’s shoulder.

Zuko shook his head in fond exasperation before continuing the tour of the new animal pens and the changes he’d made to the housing area just outside the Palace. Afterwards, he took Aang into the Palace itself. Aang gushed over the new windows, even air scootering his way down the halls to apparently show his approval. He came to a stop at a door near the end of the corridor, waiting for Zuko to catch up, and put his hand on the doorknob curiously.

Zuko paled – Aang was seconds away from discovering his secret garden.

He rushed in front of him, trying to act nonchalant as he knocked Aang’s hand aside and leaned back against the door. He hoped it wasn’t obvious that he was blocking his path, but based on Aang’s raised eyebrows, it absolutely was.

A grin slowly spread across Aang’s face. “What are you hiding in there, Your Fieriness?”

“Uh, nothing,” Zuko said, convincingly.

Aang’s grin stretched wider. “Uh-huh. Can I go in, then?”

Zuko stared at the ground, his cheeks red. “…No.”

Aang’s eyes moved past him, like he was considering forcing his way inside anyway, but then he just laughed and moved on down the hall. “Alright, I won’t pry. For now.”

Zuko let out a sigh of relief and then hurried to get ahead of Aang, realizing that maybe a more guided tour was necessary. He showed him the whole Palace, talking at length about all the changes he’d made, before ending up outside the new training hall. Even though it no longer looked anything like the place where his father had permanently scarred him, he still found himself hesitant to go in. He’d tried to practice with his broadswords in there a week ago and had to leave early due to an oncoming panic attack.

Maybe with Aang there, however, it wouldn’t feel as daunting.

“…And this is my new training hall,” Zuko said, opening the heavy door to the old Agni Kai chamber.

Aang glanced at him—he knew the significance of what had happened in this room—but said nothing. He stepped inside, making a point of peering at every little change, even going so far as to lay down on the ground and examine the new flooring.

Zuko rolled his eyes. “Does it meet your standards, Esteemed Avatar?”

“Hm, I don’t know…” Aang stood, suddenly blasting a wind tunnel towards the far wall. Once that dissipated, he pulled some water from the troughs lining either side of the room and stomped up some boulders from the rock pits spread out across the floor.

Testing out every element, except for fire.

Zuko put his hands on his hips. “When’s the last time you practiced your firebending?”

Aang groaned. “Zuko…!”

“It’s still by far your weakest element!” Zuko pointed out. “You’re making your firebending instructor look bad.”

Aang cracked a grin. “It’s his own fault. He won’t dance with me.”

Zuko groaned, but the Dancing Dragon was just about the only way he could ever convince Aang to firebend. So he started in on the familiar, well-worn steps, drawing gentle flames with him as he went. As Aang moved through the form beside him, Zuko observed his flames. They were still much smaller than Zuko’s – timidness was obvious in every motion Aang made.

“Firebending still makes you nervous?” he asked as they wove around each other.

“…Yeah,” Aang murmured. “I feel much more confident when I practice with you, but otherwise…all I can think about is that time I accidentally burnt Katara. I know my control is a lot better now, but it still makes me nervous to practice when there’s something or someone I care about in the vicinity. Which makes it hard to practice.” 

That was likely an understatement. Zuko knew that Appa was apprehensive of fire too, and Aang and Appa were rarely separated by more than fifty meters.

“Then you should come here, when you can,” Zuko blurted out. “We can practice together.”

Aang faltered in his steps, glancing at him in surprise. “…Really? Aren’t I already taking up too much of your time with the Southern Air Temple?”

“No,” Zuko said, averting his eyes. “You could never take up too much of my time.”

Aang gaped at him. Feeling strangely flustered, Zuko didn’t give him time to respond before adding, “Besides, I can barely be in this room by myself, but with you here…it’s not bothering me at all. Maybe we can get over our anxieties together.” 

Aang hummed thoughtfully. “I guess I better take you up on that, before I become the only Avatar in history who never mastered firebending and you become the only Fire Lord who can’t practice in his own training room.”

“…Yeah, we can’t have that,” Zuko said, and felt warm when Aang smiled.

--

A few days later, Zuko sat at the edge of the pond in the Palace gardens, feeding the turtle ducks. For some reason, he’d woken up that morning thinking about his family. As much as they objectively sucked, sometimes he missed them so fiercely it was like a gaping hole in his chest.

He never knew what to do when he felt like this. It was stupid – how could he miss a family that so actively hurt him? But he did. He missed Azula, her sharp wit and cleverness, especially now that he had no idea where she was or if she was even alive; he missed his father, his early guidance and quiet pride; he missed his mother, her compassion and bravery. And of course he missed Iroh and Lu Ten, but he wasn’t conflicted about that.

It was hard to consolidate these feelings when he didn’t have anyone to talk to who knew what it’d been like. Ty Lee and Mai did, to some degree, but Zuko didn’t feel comfortable unloading that on them – they’d suffered enough from his family. Technically he could contact Iroh and Ursa too, but he equally hated bothering them. It always felt like his negative moods would just intrude on the happy lives they’d managed to build for themselves.

Reuniting with his mother hadn’t gone exactly how he’d hoped. He was thankful that she was in his life again, and alive, but she had another family to tend to now, and it was so obvious to Zuko how much she hated being in the Palace, even after his renovations. He always ended up feeling bad about inviting her, like he’d taken her away from her happy home life to remind her of horrible, dark times. And though he understood that she had done everything to protect him, he could never really shake the fact that she’d abandoned him and Azula with Ozai and gone off to start a different, better family.

Somehow, she felt even further away now than she did when he didn’t know what had happened to her.

Most days it didn’t actively bother him—compared to what others in his family had done to him, abandonment didn’t seem so bad—but some days, like today, it seeped like poison through his mind. The Palace gardens weren’t really the best place to go to get over these feelings, as they were the one place he hadn’t changed at all. 

But someone had to feed the turtle ducks, and Zuko had found it a relaxing routine since returning to the Palace.

Aang found him sometime later, gently patting a turtle duck on the head before sitting cross-legged beside him.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

Zuko sniffed and wiped a tear away from his scarred eye. “I will be.”

Aang nodded – he understood better than most. They sat in silence for a long time, before Aang gently broke it, “Do you ever get lonely, even when there’s a lot of people around?”

“…Always,” Zuko admitted, looking down at the pond’s surface. His father’s face stared back at him. “Sometimes I feel like there’s no one around who really…gets me, and all that I’ve been through. I mean, Azula’s gone, you all are halfway around the world usually—”

He cut off, swallowing heavily. It felt like, if he continued, he would fall to pieces.

“…You know you can reach out to any of us when you’re feeling like that, right?” Aang asked. “It’s not a burden. If you ever need me, I’ll drop everything.”

Somehow, he always knew the right thing to say. Zuko’s lip trembled as he took a shaky breath. His gut response was to refuse him – he didn’t want to take his trauma out on everyone like he had when he was younger.

But he was trying to learn what it was like to accept kindness.

So he just nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Aang wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly as Zuko cried into his shirt.

After he pulled himself together, he and Aang started to pack for their trip. They were heading to the Southern Air Temple later today, as Zuko had a rare week of almost nothing in his schedule. Suki and Ty Lee would be around to handle or notify him if anything came up, but he was hoping that there’d be nothing, that he could spend five damn days with his friend without worrying about the world falling apart while they were gone.

After Zuko packed and loaded his bags onto Appa’s saddle, he started preparing the lemon saplings for their journey. Zuko had tended to them carefully for several years and was rather proud of how they’d turned out: they were getting tall, covered in vibrant green leaves and strong enough to cling to the harsh mountain cliffs that would be their new home.

Aang peered at the little bundles as Zuko climbed into Appa’s saddle with one under each arm. “What are those?”

“Lemon trees,” Zuko said. Aang blinked in surprise. Flustered suddenly, Zuko hurried to add, “You said lemon pies used to be one of the Air Nomads’ main agricultural products, so I thought we could plant some trees at the temple…”

Aang was visibly astounded. He glanced between the trees and Zuko several times before barking out incredulously, “You bought these? Just for me?”

It was still too embarrassing to tell him about his greenhouse. So he just cleared his throat and said, “Yeah… A merchant in Ba Sing Se was selling them when I last visited my uncle.”

That wasn’t technically a lie, at least. It was just that they had been seeds at the time, not saplings.

Aang grinned, but Zuko saw that there were tears in his eyes before he turned around, gripped Appa’s reins, and urged him up into the air. “Yip yip!” 

Once they had climbed into the air and the Fire Palace was a mere speck below them, Aang said, his voice raw, “Thanks, Zuko. I can’t wait to make pies from the lemons.”

Zuko smiled down at the lemon trees, feeling warm. “You’re welcome.”

They planted them as soon as they got to the Southern Air Temple, in the place where the old orchard had been. They had already cleared most of the debris from the area, but it was still a lot of work. Aang could earthbend the holes, but packing the dirt tightly around the roots required a bit more delicacy than earthbending often afforded. Toph could do it, but since it was just them, they did the work by hand, carefully covering and stabilizing the young trees.

“How have things been with Katara?” Zuko asked as they piled dirt around one of the saplings.

He wasn’t really sure if he should ask, but when he looked up at Aang, he was smiling a little. “A lot better. It still hurts, but I really think we’re better off now that we’re not trying to force our relationship to work. We’ve even started chatting again when I’m in the Southern Water Tribe, and it’s been really nice. I’m glad I can keep her as a friend, at least.”

Zuko reached over and squeezed Aang’s hand. “I’m glad to hear it, Aang. Truly.”

Aang squeezed back. “I wanted to thank you, you and all our other friends. I know it couldn’t have been easy to deal with a break-up within the friend group, but you all stuck by us. We really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Zuko said softly. “You’ve both dealt with enough of my messes, it’d hardly be fair if I walked away from yours.”

Aang chuckled and bumped his shoulder against Zuko’s. “Well, still. It means a lot.”

Zuko pressed his shoulder against Aang’s and refocused on the saplings. It took them a few more hours, but then it was done: the trees stood strong and proud, steady in the face of the intense winds that blew around the temple.

They were absolutely beautiful.

Aang beamed at him, and Zuko grinned back.

--

Months passed, and slowly the Southern Air Temple started to regain its former glory.

The bulk of the structural repairs was done – the tall sanctuary spire was reinforced and surrounded by a brand new compact village of small buildings and interlocking hallways carefully carved into the hillside. Aang had used earthbending to restore that part of the temple, which made Zuko wonder if the original monks had commissioned earthbenders as well or dug it all by hand. Either way, the architecture was incredible, and a bit difficult to replicate based on Aang’s memory alone. But they got the hang of it eventually, which made restoring the other buildings that sprawled down the mountainside much easier. 

Everything still needed a fresh coat of paint, but that was next on the list, along with many other finer details. For now, though, Aang was focusing on roof repairs and sprucing up the mountain pathways while Zuko turned his attention to restoring the Air Nomad murals. Most of them were relatively intact, but many of them sported the occasional scorch mark from careless firebending or were just fading naturally with age. There were a few that were totally irreparable, but Zuko didn’t have the skill to fix those, so they would have to be replaced by a professional artist. 

But he could at least do the touch-ups. He couldn’t boast that he was an amazing artist, but he’d been interested in painting as a child so his mother had enrolled him in a brief course. He’d never gotten a chance to continue it, as his father’s strict training regiment overtook everything else, but it had at least taught him about different art styles and how to make pigments. The class had never taught Air Nomad painting styles, of course, but after spending some time at the Western Air Temple studying the intact murals, he felt he at least had enough of a grasp on the basics of the style to imitate it and fill in the parts that were missing.

And, as it turned out, the real challenge was keeping his hair out of his face while he worked. He was letting it grow out again, but it was at that annoying stage where it kept falling in his face whenever he bent over slightly. Considering that he had to bend over to inspect the missing piece he was working on, mix his paints, and focus on his brushstrokes, it was extremely irritating.

Gripping his paintbrush between his teeth, he struggled to tie it up into a topknot. Ty Lee usually insisted on tying his hair up for him when he was at home, so it’d been a long time since he’d had to deal with his hair himself when it was this long. He thought he knew how to do it, but each time he tried, it slipped out of his hair tie at the last moment.

“Hey, Zuko, the mural’s looking great!” Aang said, suddenly appearing at the end of the hallway. He barked out a loud laugh when he saw Zuko’s predicament. “What’s going on? I haven’t seen you this irritated since Momo got lychee juice all over your robe!”

Zuko’s eye twitched. He still hadn’t forgiven Momo for that incident – the stains had been impossible to remove, so he’d had to buy a whole new robe.

He dropped his hair with an annoyed grunt and took the paintbrush out of his mouth. “It’s just my hair – it keeps getting in my face, and I guess I never learned how to tie it when it’s this long.”

“I can tie it for you,” Aang said cheerfully. When Zuko shot him a look, Aang blinked. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You can tie it? When’s the last time you had hair?”

“Just because I don’t have hair doesn’t mean I don’t know how to tie it!” Aang said defensively. “Besides, you can’t seem to do it either!”

Zuko grumbled, but he couldn’t really argue, so he just shoved the hair tie in Aang’s direction. Aang chuckled as he came over and took it from him, sitting cross-legged behind Zuko. Zuko flinched when his cold hands brushed against the back of his neck, but he quickly relaxed into his touch. After spending so much time together working on the temple, Aang’s presence was familiar, soothing. Zuko usually felt on edge around people, worrying about what to say or how to act or how much he should reveal about himself. But Aang made him feel comfortable in his skin, even if he said something stupid or wasn’t as put together as he wanted to be.

He hadn’t felt like that with anyone besides his uncle in a very long time, if ever, and it was incredibly nice. He was thankful that he’d gotten to spend so much time with him in recent years.

He waited patiently as Aang got to work tying his hair back, and then waited some more, and then waited some more. His fingers twitched around his brush – what on Earth was taking Aang so long? Zuko could’ve managed it himself if he was going to take so much time—

“…There!” Aang finally exclaimed, pulling his hands back. “How’s that?”

Zuko bent over the bowl of water he’d been using to wet his brushes, looking at his reflection. His hair was snugly tied up in a topknot, but it was nowhere near centered on his head and a few wild strands poked out at the sides. Aang had also put so much of his hair into the topknot, way more than he was supposed to. It was so endearingly terrible that he couldn’t hold back a sudden burst of laughter.

“What?!” Aang demanded, but Zuko could hear the smile in his voice. “It’s not that bad!”

“It’s terrible!” Zuko gasped around his laughter. “Azula could do a better job!”

Aang gasped in mock offense. “Last time I do anything for you!”

“I wouldn’t ask you again, anyway,” Zuko teased, but his hair was out of his face now.

So he kept it up like that, and felt warm when Aang smiled at him.

--

On their last day at the temple for this trip, Zuko and Aang worked on touching up the airball arena, which had surprisingly not been damaged by firebenders but by time and weather taking their toll. Afterwards, Aang was adamant that he and Zuko play a game.

“We deserve some time off, don’t we?” Aang insisted as he practically dragged Zuko into the arena.

“I’m not an airbender, how am I supposed to play?” Zuko grumbled, but he wasn’t saying no and Aang knew it.

So they moved to opposite sides of the field and climbed up onto the wooden poles. Aang removed his shirt and Zuko, with giddiness, realized that he could, too. For his birthday last year, his uncle had surprised him by offering to help him get gender affirming surgery. Iroh had found a waterbender in Ba Sing Se who excelled in gender surgery and didn’t charge an exorbitant price, and though Zuko could definitely afford it anyway, he insisted on paying for it himself. Zuko had been overwhelmingly touched, and he’d spent a few minutes tucked into his uncle’s embrace, blinking grateful tears from his eyes.

The recovery period had been annoying, and a little triggering if he was being honest, but it was so worth it. He couldn’t believe how much better he felt now that his chest fit him and he didn’t have to spend so much energy worrying about what to wear or if people could see his binding wrap or if people would look at him strangely if he wasn’t wearing it. He didn’t have to be flat-chested for only a short amount of time per day, and it was so much flatter than it had ever been binding. The scars weren’t even as dark as the one over his eye, as the surgeon’s waterbending had significantly improved the healing process.

Sokka was going to start calling him ‘Scar Guy’ if he wasn’t careful, though – there was barely any part of his body that wasn’t scarred, at this point.

But these were good scars. Amazing scars. It was new and exhilarating to look at scars on his body and not feel ashamed by them.

And now, it was acceptable for him to be bare-chested in public when he was exercising. As he removed his shirt, Aang’s eyebrows went up and then he grinned, blindingly bright. “Zuko! You got top surgery?”

“Yeah. My uncle knew a guy.” That sounded like he got some sketchy procedure done in a back alley, so he clarified, “In Ba Sing Se, there’s a waterbender who specializes in gender surgery.”

Aang’s grin stretched wider. “That’s awesome! I’m so happy for you, and it looks great!!”

Zuko beamed at him. It was awesome, and even his pessimistic self couldn’t find any reason to be embarrassed about it.

As Aang airbent the ball out from where it was stored in a small cavity beneath the field, Zuko worked on his game plan. Obviously he wasn’t an airbender, but fire caused air to rise – if Zuko controlled his flames in a very specific way, maybe he’d at least be able to alter the course of the ball.

He lost the first three rounds—the first two because Aang got the ball around him and he failed to manipulate it, and the third because he accidentally burnt the ball to a crisp—but after that, he started to get an idea. Aang was constantly circling the air around him, using the ball’s natural shape and hollowness to more easily spin and manipulate its trajection. Maybe Zuko had to come at the game from a similar perspective.

As the next round started, Zuko began waving his arms around, creating a pillar of fire around him. As the flames grew, they slowly started to make the air above them warm and rise. When Aang flung the ball at him, it hit the air surrounding the inferno and shot upwards, the force of the sudden change in momentum sending it right back towards Aang. Aang was so shocked that he couldn’t react, and the ball smacked solidly into his goal.

Zuko grinned triumphantly. It turned out that fire and air mixed together well after all.

Aang laughed joyously, not even the least bit upset that he’d lost. “Zuko, that was amazing! I’ve never seen anyone who wasn’t an airbender win this game!”

Zuko dispersed his flames dramatically, showing off just a little bit. “Obviously they weren’t creative enough. This game is easy.”

“Easy?!” Aang’s grin turned mischievous. “Well then, I guess I can stop holding back!”

Zuko’s eyes widened, but he simply fell back into his firebending stance, whipping up flames around him again.

The game became much more intense after that. Zuko still didn’t have a lot of control over where he sent the ball, but he could defend and counter now, and swirling the flames at different heights and speeds affected the ball enough that he could eventually pinpoint a general location to send it.

It wasn’t airbending to any degree, but he was starting to hold his own, and Aang was obviously eating it up. He was laughing, using every dirty trick he had up his sleeve, and playing like he was still the twelve-year-old he had been before he found out he was the Avatar.

He got so carried away at one point that his air tunnel not only catapulted the ball, but him along with it. Zuko extinguished his inferno immediately, not wanting to burn Aang, but couldn’t do much more than that before he smacked right into him, knocking them both off the playing field. Zuko landed heavily on the ground with a pained grunt, Aang momentarily stunned on top of him.

They glanced at each other, and then Aang tried and mostly failed not to laugh. “Sorry, Zuko! I didn’t mean to do that!”

“Sure,” Zuko muttered, but he was smiling. How could he not? Aang was so carefree, in a way that Zuko hadn’t seen for a long time, his smile wide and his eyes bright with mirth. With the sun glinting off his arrow tattoos, he was cast in a warm glow, achingly beautiful.

Spirits Zuko wanted to kiss him.

…Wait.

He wanted to kiss him? Kiss Aang?

Zuko froze, staring up at Aang as he airbent himself to his feet. For a long, agonizing moment, he had no idea what to say or do, his brain stuck in a loop. He wanted to kiss Aang.

He wanted to kiss Aang.

Aang blinked at him, then furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

He started to reach out to him, to grab his hand, and that sprung Zuko into motion. He hurriedly scrambled to his feet, brushing imaginary dirt off his pants so he didn’t have to look Aang in the eye and Aang hopefully couldn’t see that his entire face was on fire. “Nope, I’m fine! Should we go another round?”

Aang didn’t say anything for a moment, but then Zuko saw him shrug out of the corner of his eye. “Sure! As long as you’re okay.”

Zuko let out a breath of relief, still looking down at the ground. “I am.”

But he wasn’t, he really wasn’t. He tried to get his head back in the game as he followed Aang to the arena, convincing himself that he didn’t really want to kiss Aang. It’d been a while since he kissed anyone, so it was probably just a silly impulse based on adrenaline from the game more than anything else. After all, it was perfectly normal to sometimes think about kissing your attractive friend…wasn’t it?

…Since when had he found Aang attractive?

Zuko lost the rest of the games, his focus shattered. Aang seemed confused, but didn’t comment as Zuko fled the scene afterwards, his face still bright red.

--

“I don’t understand how you get so much gunk between your toes,” Zuko told Appa as he scrubbed a leafy branch between Appa’s front toes later that day. Appa had a long afternoon of flying ahead of him, so Zuko wanted to make sure that he was pampered before then. Appa was laying on his stomach with his limbs splayed out on either side of him, relaxed and half-asleep. “You fly in the air! It’s not like you’re standing in mud all day like a mongoose lizard.”

Appa grumbled at him, blowing hot air in his face.

“You don’t have to do that,” Aang said, airbending up to the sky bison landing pad with Appa’s saddle. He worked on strapping it to Appa’s back as he said, “I was planning on giving Appa a pedicure when we got back to the Earth Kingdom.”

Zuko shrugged one shoulder, not looking up from his task. “I find it kind of relaxing, actually. Helps take my mind off things.”

A very specific thing. Despite his best attempt to ignore it, the desire to kiss Aang now seemed thoroughly rooted in his brain, and he needed to do something, anything to prevent himself from thinking about it. And what was better than a little manual labor?

Aang grinned as he hopped up onto Appa’s head to adjust the saddle. He leaned over the front of Appa’s face, rubbing his forehead. “Appa’s good at that in general.”

He chuckled as Appa tilted his head up to give him a big lick.

Zuko glanced up for a moment, smiling. It was hard not to be mesmerized, seeing how happy Aang and Appa were together. Appa was always so gentle, despite his huge size, and Aang always had a huge grin on his face, like nothing could ever get him down as long as the two of them were together. They were comforting to watch. 

Aang suddenly looked over at Zuko – flinching, Zuko quickly refocused on his work before he could catch him staring. “Appa’s sure comfortable around you, though. When you first came to our side during the war and met us at the Western Air Temple, I’m not sure I would’ve believed that you’d changed if Appa hadn’t been so affectionate towards you.”

Zuko blinked. He hadn’t known that. He knew that Toph had stuck up for him and had assumed that she was the one who’d convinced everyone – it had never occurred to him that Appa thanking him for freeing him from his prison under Lake Laogai would’ve also swayed Aang’s opinion of him. Now that he thought about it, though, it made perfect sense. Aang trusted Appa unequivocally, and Appa was a good judge of character.

Zuko was honored that he’d somehow gained Appa’s trust, despite everything he’d done. He certainly hadn’t deserved it back then.

He rubbed Appa’s leg, blinking back sudden tears, and murmured, “So I have you to thank for everything, huh?”

Appa grunted lazily.

“My mother always used to say I had a way with animals,” Zuko said, louder so that Aang could hear. “I’ve never known if it was true or not.”

“I’d believe it!” Aang said cheerfully as he hopped down on Appa’s other side to finish attaching the saddle. “Bian likes you so much that I barely have to lift my arm before he takes off to find you.”

Zuko ducked his head, his face warm. “Well it’s not like I’m the one who trains them…”

“Yeah, but Sokka bought a messenger hawk once and he didn’t ever come back, even though he was trained.”

Zuko snorted out a laugh. “That explains why he asked me to send all my letters for him to Katara instead.”

Aang laughed too, bright and joyful. Zuko buried his face in Appa’s fur, wishing he could bend away the fire in his cheeks and these pesky feelings along with it.  

Once he finished up with Appa’s toes, the four of them packed up to leave. Heading back to the Fire Palace after spending time with just Aang, Appa, and Momo at the Southern Air Temple always felt strange. It was almost like he was living two separate lives, the realities of this life non-existent in the other and vice versa. It usually made him a bit melancholic to leave this life behind and return to the other, and now he was starting to realize why that was.

But he buried the thought as best he could, not at all prepared to address it.

They didn’t talk much on the flight back. Zuko was still too wound up, worried that Aang would see something on his face every time he looked back at him to point out a bird or some other animal. If Aang noticed anything, however, he thankfully kept it to himself.

Before long, they landed in the Fire Palace’s courtyard – Aang turned to grin at him as Zuko climbed over the edge of the saddle. “See ya next time, hotman.”

Zuko’s heartbeat increased. Aang’s smile was devastating – he could barely look at it without his cheeks flushing and warmth spreading through him from head to toe. That stupid nickname should’ve ruined the effect, but it didn’t. It never did.

“Uh—yeah, see ya.” Zuko winced at his lame response, hurrying to slide off Appa before he did something stupid like kiss Aang goodbye.

He was in so much trouble.

--

Zuko panicked about it for two weeks.

The urge to kiss Aang hadn’t gone away like he’d hoped once he removed himself from the situation. Instead, it got even worse, to the point where his mind wandered to the fantasy of it when he wasn’t distracted by other things. Sometimes, when it was really bad, his mind wandered to it even when he did have other things that he really needed to pay attention to or think about. He found himself thinking about Aang constantly, and realized with a surge of embarrassment that this wasn’t even abnormal behavior. He was always thinking about Aang, had been for years.

How long had he felt like this without realizing? If he was being completely honest, Aang had taken up the majority of his thoughts since he was thirteen – but surely all of that hadn’t been because he…

…No, it had to be a recent development. He’d been solidly in love with Mai until a few years ago, and he had never once felt jealous or sad over Aang and Katara’s relationship. He also definitely had never consciously thought about kissing Aang before.

But now that he was, what the hell was he supposed to do about it?

Thankfully, he had a party to attend that would hopefully take his mind off all of this. Iroh’s birthday was coming up, so Zuko was traveling to Ba Sing Se to spend the week with him. He’d been invited to the Order of the White Lotus’s celebration for his uncle too, but he preferred smaller, more intimate gatherings. Besides, he worked all day with a bunch of old guys – he didn’t want to relax around them, too. Toph felt similarly, so she would also be there to celebrate Iroh.

An air taxi refurbished from an old military airship let him off a few blocks away from the Jasmine Dragon, and he took his time strolling through his old neighborhood. It felt like centuries ago since he’d lived here with his uncle, on the verge of living a happy, carefree life before his past and bad decisions caught up with him. It was certainly livelier than it had been back then, now that wartime curfews and the Dai Li’s chokehold on the city were removed. Tons of children played in the streets without care, merchants called out from stalls lining the side of the road, and no one walked around with creepy smiles or barely concealed fear.

The city was now much more relaxed and carefree. No wonder Iroh felt so drawn to it.

When Zuko arrived at the Jasmine Dragon, there was a line out the door. Iroh’s shop had always been popular, but now that the war was over it was booming. Zuko shouldered his way past the crowd and entered the shop, struck as he always was by the scent of home. This place had been his home, briefly, but it was more the scent of jasmine and incense, the scent of his uncle, that made him momentarily overcome with emotion every time he stepped inside. Iroh was the one constant throughout his life, but now that they no longer lived together he saw him much less frequently. Such was growing up, but he still missed him.

For now, though, they were together again, and it was reassuring that everything was exactly the same as it was the last time he’d been here. Iroh was standing near the back corner of the shop, chatting with the customers and laughing boisterously while busy servers dashed around him.

Zuko smirked as he walked up to Iroh and picked up a nearby teapot. “Need an extra server?”

Iroh turned around, confused for one second before he broke into a wide grin. “Fire Lord Zuko!”

He pulled Zuko into a spine-crushing hug, which Zuko eagerly returned.

“Happy birthday, Uncle.” He leaned back before Iroh could unknowingly crush his gift and presented the jasmine plant. “Here, this is for you.”

“Oh, thank you!” Iroh hummed approvingly as he took the plant, tilting it this way and that. “This is good quality! Where did you get it?”

Zuko couldn’t answer for a moment. He wanted Iroh to know even less than he’d wanted Aang to know, but he couldn’t use the Ba Sing Se excuse here, or his uncle would want to know where the shop was. And he wasn’t a good liar – he never had been. So he found himself admitting, “I grew it myself.”

Surprise lit up his uncle’s eyes, his grin turning mischievous. “Nephew! Do my ears deceive me? Are you telling me you’ve taken up gardening?”

Zuko’s ears burned, and he stubbornly didn’t meet Iroh’s gaze. “I’ve just been growing a few things.”

“It’s a lot more than that!” a familiar voice shouted. Zuko looked past his uncle to find Toph sitting at a table near the kitchen, grinning wildly as she tilted a cup of tea at Zuko in a mock toast. The tea sloshed dangerously close to the sides of the cup, but she somehow managed to avoid spilling a drop. “Hey, Fire Flakes! How’s your greenhouse?”

“Greenhouse?” Iroh gasped as Zuko glared at Toph.

“Alright so I’m into gardening!” Zuko snapped as he and Iroh moved over to Toph’s table. Zuko sat across from her, crossing his arms defensively. “Lots of people are!”

Iroh sniffed, and Zuko looked up with horror to see that his uncle was wiping away tears. “I’m so proud. To think that you would come to appreciate nature in such a way, that you would want to tend for and care for the earth—”

“It’s not that big of a deal!” Zuko protested, his whole face on fire now. “See, this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you—!”

“He’s been growing plants for all of us,” Toph, the traitor, told Iroh. “He’s growing some plum blossoms for me, snowy saxifrage for Sugar Queen and Captain Boomerang… Oh, and weren’t you also growing lemon saplings for Twinkle—?”

Zuko shot a small flame at Toph’s tea, making the cup so hot that she dropped it with a yelp. “Ouch!”

A second later, a slab of earth shot into the back legs of Zuko’s chair, smacking his head forward against the table. Rubbing his forehead, he glared at Toph, who was sitting back in her chair with her arms crossed behind her head, innocently whistling something horrendously out of tune.

“Now, now, no need to injure yourselves. I’m just happy that you’ve directed your attention and energy towards such positive hobbies, Nephew,” Iroh said with a kind smile. “And that’s all I’ll say on the subject. Now, would you two like some boba?”

Zuko and Toph groaned, but Iroh was already walking away. It was, as always, not optional. Iroh’s ‘boba’ was all the rage now, but Zuko still preferred his tea without any chewy lumps getting caught in his throat. Toph didn’t like tapioca either, so she got her entertainment by flicking them at people instead. Zuko didn’t want to think about how many of the sticky orbs he’d have to comb out of his hair by the end of the day.

“So? How’s life?” Zuko asked while they waited for Iroh to return.

“Good – the lily livers seem to multiply by the day,” Toph said, referring to her metalbending students. After listening to her stories, Zuko always felt a bit bad for them. “Soon I’ll have a whole army of metalbenders! What about you?”

“Busy,” Zuko grumbled. “I never realized that being the Fire Lord would be so…never-ending. I remember my dad having a lot more free time than I do.”

“Yeah, but that’s because you actually care about your nation, right?” Toph pointed out. “Your dad didn’t have to make any decisions other than where to send the troops next.”

Zuko had never thought about it like that. It was true that his father rarely focused on issues at home because all of his attention was set on conquering and expansion. It took a lot less time to destroy something than it took to rebuild, as Zuko was becoming intimately familiar with working at the Southern Air Temple.

It helped, somehow, to have that perspective. Maybe all of his frustrations were just a necessary part of building a brighter future. “That’s—helpful, actually. Thanks.”

“No problem. I’m here all day,” Toph said, grinning.

“I’ve been taking some time off, anyway. I offered to help Aang rebuild the Southern Air Temple, so we’ve been doing that.”

Toph blinked. “That’s your time off? Isn’t that, like, a massive job?”

“Yeah.” Zuko smiled. “But it’s been rewarding, too. Even if it’s just a little bit at a time, we’re bringing back something that was lost. It feels really good.”

He started to tell her about all of the projects he and Aang had been working on. He mentioned the lemon trees, the mural, the airball arena. He told her about Aang’s stories of the temple, the epic multi-day glider races, how he used to throw pies at the monks. Iroh joined them while he was talking, setting a cup of jasmine milk tea on the table for each of them before sitting down next to Toph.

When Zuko was finished, Iroh smiled at him. “Rebuilding in a time of peace is no easy task. You’re doing good work, Zuko – I’m proud of you.”

Zuko looked away, suddenly overwhelmed. Somehow it always hit hard to hear that.

“How is Aang, anyway?” Toph asked. “He hasn’t visited me recently, but I heard he and Katara broke up.”

Zuko winced. “Yeah, they did, but they both seem to be doing alright. I think they’re becoming friends again slowly, it’ll just take time.”

Toph nodded. “It probably sucks going through something like that.”

Zuko peered at her strangely. She couldn’t see it, but she could tell anyway, for she added, “What? Just because I’m aro and don’t have to deal with stuff like that doesn’t mean I can’t be sympathetic.”

“Yeah, but your lack of sympathy is a separate problem, Toph,” Zuko teased, and she laughed.

“I’m glad they were able to keep their close bond,” Iroh said. “With my first love, it was difficult getting through the break-up, but afterwards she became a lifelong friend. I will always be grateful for that.”

Zuko thought of Mai. He hoped they could get to that point someday. At the very least they were talking again, and Zuko knew that she would always hold a special place in his heart.

Then, embarrassingly, he thought of Aang. His heart rate kicked up, his ears flushed, and he desperately hoped that neither Toph or Iroh could tell.

Except they were both looking right at him with matching raised eyebrows. Zuko quickly looked away, pretending to be preoccupied with sipping his tea.

Iroh stroked his beard, stalling briefly as he combed out a wet tapioca pearl that Toph had flung at him earlier.

“Do you have someone new in your life, Nephew?” he asked so casually that Zuko choked.

“N-no!” he gasped out between coughs.

“I can tell you’re lying,” Toph said bluntly.

Zuko glared at her. “Well, cover your feet or something!”

She lifted her hands. “Hey, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about!”

“I don’t want to hear that from you!”

“But she’s right, Nephew,” Iroh said encouragingly. “You’re among family here.”

“You’re both a bunch of gossips,” he accused, but they were still staring at him. His face flushed even darker. “Well—there is someone I…like. I just…don’t really know what to do about it.”

“I get it.” Toph nodded wisely. “I mean, Aang just went through a bad break-up, and you’ve been friends for a million years, so it must feel weird, right?”

It was dead silent for a moment. All Zuko could do was stare wide-eyed at her. Then, when it fully sunk in what had just happened, he was so mortified that an involuntary burst of flame shot out of his mouth, making him cough again. “Wh—?! How did you—?!”

“Oh.” She nudged Iroh. “Were we supposed to pretend we didn’t know who it was?”

“That would’ve been the polite thing to do, yes,” Iroh said.

Zuko gaped at his uncle. “How did you—?!”

Iroh considered his words for a moment. “Zuko… When I came over here, you were talking so animatedly about him, and you never talk about people like that. Not to mention that you’ve spent a better part of your life thinking about and talking about him, so I just thought maybe—”

“He means to say it was obvious,” Toph cut in.

This was horrifying to Zuko. His face paled and his stomach twisted like he was going to be sick. If they had been able to tell so easily, then who else knew?! Did Suki and Ty Lee know? Did Sokka know? Did Aang and Katara know?

How could he ever face any of them again?!

Toph suddenly reached across the table, grabbing his wrist. She pulled his arm over so that she could hold his hand in both of hers, and then started tapping a slow rhythm against his skin. He focused in on the shifting rhythms, the warmth of her hands, until his stomach loosened and he could breathe again.

Iroh placed a steady hand on his arm. “Are you alright, Zuko?”

He nodded shakily. “Yeah, I just…panicked a bit there.” He put his free hand on top of Toph’s. “Thanks.”

“No problem, Fire Flakes.” Toph sat back again, putting her feet up on the table. “There’s no need to worry – Iroh and I are the most emotionally sophisticated of the group. I doubt anyone else has been able to tell.”

That was certainly questionable, but it made him feel better to believe it. He pulled back and put his hands over his face. “Ugh, I just don’t know what to do! Everything’s so complicated now.” 

“You must follow your heart, Nephew,” Iroh said gently. “That, and be honest with yourself.”

Which probably meant that he should stop trying to pretend like he didn’t feel the way he did. He sighed and started drawing nervous patterns on the table in front of him. “But it doesn’t matter how I feel, cause he’s not…I mean how could he—”

What could Aang possibly see in him, a broken Fire Lord in charge of a nation that had been responsible for the genocide of his people, who in his younger years had spent so much time trying to capture him? Sure, that was water under the bridge now, but Zuko sometimes felt like he had barely grown past the person he once was. Not to mention that he was always so awkward – he could never quite say what he meant, and he often withdrew into himself without meaning to. Mai hadn’t been able to stand it, so how could he expect Aang to?

“I can’t say for certain,” Iroh said, a twinkle in his eye, “but I recall a young man who stayed here for four days straight waiting for you to wake up from your coma, to make sure that you were okay. Not just anyone would do that.”

“But that’s just who Aang is, Uncle,” Zuko bemoaned. “He’d do that for any of us.”

“Then why don’t you just ask him?” Toph said.

Zuko glared at her. “Because! I don’t want to…ruin everything. Like I always do.”

Iroh leaned forward, meeting his gaze intensely. “I know you, Nephew. Even if you did make a mistake, you would work hard to make it right. You always do.”

He supposed that was the cadence of his life – get a whole lot of things wrong, and then spend a great deal of time and energy to make them right again once he realized.

It would just be nice if something was easy for once.

“Besides, where’s the fun in love without a little risk?” Iroh added, flashing a grin.

Zuko glanced at him uncertainly. “…So you think I should tell him?”

“If it gets you to stop moping, then yeah,” Toph said with a grin. 

“I’m not moping!” he snapped, and for once it was actually true. It was a relief that some of his friends and family knew how he felt and the world didn’t end because of it. So maybe it would be okay if Aang knew, too. He still wasn’t really sure if he wanted to act on these feelings, but it gave him some peace of mind that would hopefully allow him to think about it more clearly.

He’d just needed to get out of his own head for a bit, and Toph and Iroh were certainly good at putting his problems in perspective.

“…I’ll think about it,” Zuko mumbled. “Thanks.”

“Like I said. I’m here all day,” Toph said, but her smile was surprisingly soft.

Iroh had a smile on his face too, though his was much more mischievous. “Great! Now that that’s settled…”

He pulled out a board, seemingly from nowhere. “How about a game of Pai Sho?”

Toph pumped her fist in the air while Zuko rolled his eyes, but he had brought his Dragon tile, which was essential to his newly formulated strategy that he was rather proud of. He doubted he could beat Iroh, or Toph for that matter, who had gotten unfairly good at the game after Iroh made multiple sets of Braille tiles that enabled her to play, but he would certainly be better off than he usually was. 

So he studied his tiles, the warmth of their laughter and cheer settling around him. 

--

A few months later, Zuko was helping take the mongoose lizards and komodo rhinos through their daily runs when he spotted Appa soaring towards the Fire Palace.

He blinked in surprise, his chest squeezing with warmth, then panic. Usually Aang gave him notice via Bian before showing up, but this visit was unannounced. It wouldn’t normally be much of a problem, as Aang was willing to wait if Zuko was busy with meetings or other duties, but this was the first time Zuko had seen him since he’d talked about his crush with Iroh and Toph. He still didn’t know what he wanted to do, what would be honest to himself and to Aang, so it would’ve been nice to have some time to prepare and practice normal behavior beforehand. 

Haku, Azula’s mongoose lizard, lifted her snout in the air and sniffed excitedly. Zuko had gotten in the habit of taking her and Rongyu, his komodo rhino, out at least once a week – Haku especially, since she sorely missed Azula and was often depressed when Zuko didn’t spend time with her. He was happy to do it, though, as it was relaxing for him to get away from it all and just focus on riding and the beautiful scenery around him.

She was out with him so often that she’d met all of his friends by now, too. She especially liked Aang, who fed her treats when he thought Zuko wasn’t looking.

Haku eagerly crawled over to meet Appa as he landed in the courtyard  – Zuko had to pull hard on her reins to prevent her from plowing straight into him. “Hey, Aang.”

“Zuko! And Haku!” Aang shouted, grinning as he hopped down to the ground with a huge gust of air. He laughed as Haku rushed up to him, licking him and sniffing at his pockets. He rubbed her neck enthusiastically, scratching behind her ear slits, her favorite spot.

Zuko slid down from Haku’s saddle before she could knock him off in her enthusiasm. “Did I forget about a trip to the Southern Air Temple?”

“No, no, I just—” Aang faltered, staring intensely at Haku for a moment, “—thought I’d drop by.”

Warmth flooded Zuko’s body. He tried not to read more into it than what was really there, but it was nice to know that his friends actively wanted to see him, regardless.

“Well, you’re always welcome,” he said, gripping Haku’s reins tightly so she didn’t get away from him while he greeted Appa.

He pretended not to notice Aang slipping Haku a treat from his pocket, but he did notice the way Aang kept staring at him, his eyes skittering away after a moment, only to fall back on him once again.

“Are you, um, are you okay?” Zuko asked quietly. It worried him that Aang was being so cagey about why he came. Even if it was just to hang out, he wasn’t usually so vague about it.

Aang blinked at him. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Zuko didn’t know how to answer that. “Well—”

“I thought we could work on my firebending!” he cut in suddenly.

Zuko frowned. Now he knew something was up – Aang never willingly practiced his firebending. “And since when do you make time for that?”

Aang laughed, but he seemed nervous as he rubbed Haku’s snout. “It’s my weakest element, so I thought I should…practice more. You said I could use your training hall whenever I wanted.”

He had said that. That was just before he realized he had a crush on one of his best friends.

But he wasn’t about to turn him away, either. Zuko gave Appa’s muzzle one final pat and then turned to face Aang. “Alright. Let me put Haku away, then I’ll meet you there.”

Haku was rather reluctant to leave Aang, but Zuko managed to get her back to her pen after bribing her with several treats. As he was walking back to the Palace, he quickly tried to remind himself what normal behavior with Aang looked like. After their usual warm-ups, he would probably want to do the Dancing Dragon – Zuko knew the steps for that, he could do that. Aang would then want to know if Zuko had learned any new forms recently, they would take their shirts off, Aang’s body would move as gracefully as an eel swan—

Zuko buried his face in his hands with a groan. It was no use – he couldn’t remember what normal was, if he’d ever really known. He already struggled with social interactions, and now with this extra layer added on top he had even less of an idea of what to do. His affection for Aang leaked out in everything, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, and he was terrified that Aang would be able to see it on his face.

And what the hell would he do then?

His stomach twisted with anxiety as he made his way to the training hall. He was so distracted that he went in without really thinking about it – as soon as he stepped foot inside, however, he froze. He hadn’t mentally prepared himself for walking into this room again. He kept meaning to practice going in, but he always put it off, telling himself that he was too busy, that he had too many meetings and too much paperwork and too many important decisions to make. That it was easier to just go somewhere without painful memories whenever he could slip away to practice his forms or with his broadswords. All excuses, but he let himself believe them every time – he hadn’t been in here since Aang last visited.

Swallowing, he tried to focus on his breathing, the physicality of the room. It didn’t look anything like it once did – there were no seats for the audience, no specific dueling spot, no Fire Nation banners hanging from the wall. There was just a floor, natural elements, and—

But suddenly he was there , on his knees, kowtowing as deeply as he could. He could hear his father’s deep voice, his scorn, his footsteps as he drew closer—

Someone suddenly grabbed his arm, and he flinched back. Every instinct within him screamed at him to run, but it was just Aang, looking at him with concern. He moved his hand down to Zuko’s wrist, tapping against his skin just like Toph had done a few months prior.

“It’s alright,” he said softly. “He’s not here. You’re safe.”

Zuko took a trembling breath, focusing on matching his breathing with Aang’s rhythm, and then looked away. “…Sorry.”

“Don’t ever apologize for that,” Aang murmured.

They stood there together until Zuko recovered himself, and then got started on their training. After their usual warm-up, Aang insisted on going through the Dancing Dragon, as Zuko knew he would. As embarrassing as the dance was, Zuko actually found it a useful tool for teaching – they both knew it so well that Zuko could instantly tell if Aang’s flames were off. If they were, it gave him a starting point for critiquing his form, and if they weren’t, then he knew it was a good time to try new forms. 

Today, though, he couldn’t focus for the life of him. Every time they faced each other, Zuko looked away, desperately trying to focus on something, anything besides the fluid motion of Aang’s body and the sound of his breathing. Eventually, though, he started to relax into the routine of it, the familiarity of it. The Dancing Dragon was something he only did with Aang, and though the lessons he gained from it fueled a lot of the rest of his firebending, this form would always be something special, just for the two of them.

He touched his knuckles to Aang’s as they finished the form, and found Aang smiling at him. His smile was so bright, as bright as the sun itself, but this time Zuko found he couldn’t look away.

“So, do you have any new forms to show me?” Aang asked as they disconnected.

Zuko felt extremely warm for some reason, but he’d been expecting this – he’d prepared an answer for this. “Yeah, I actually found an old scroll in the Dragonbone Catacombs that had this form on it. It’s supposed to mimic the movements of a lion vulture.”

Aang grinned. “Cool!”

Zuko went through the form, focusing intensely on his movements. This form required a lot of arm and core strength, and though those were his stronger muscles from years of wielding his broadswords, he hadn’t quite gotten it down perfectly. He could nail it most of the time, but every once in a while he stumbled, and for some reason he desperately didn’t want to mess up this time.

And he didn’t – he finished strong, throwing his hands up into the air like a bird stretching its wings, flames coating his arms. He loved the artistry of this form, the beauty of it, and thought that Aang would, too. To his irritation, however, Aang seemed distracted and wasn’t even looking at him. He thought he’d felt his gaze so intensely while he’d been going through the steps, but it was obvious when he looked at him now that he hadn’t even been watching the form.

Zuko flung his arms down, extinguishing his flames with a huff. “Are you even paying attention?”

“I am, I am!” Aang insisted. His face was bright red, but that was probably just because Zuko’s flames had made the room warmer. “Could you go through it again, more slowly?”

“…Are you sure you’re okay?” Zuko asked, but did as he requested, slowly flowing through the Roaring Lion Vulture steps. 

“I really am,” Aang murmured. His eyes were following Zuko, this time. “I just, uh…I’ve really wanted to see you these last few days, that’s all.”

Zuko nearly burned a hole in the wall. He just barely stopped himself from doing that, but it made him miss his footing and he face-planted onto the floor with a grunt.

“Zuko!” Aang rushed over to him as Zuko propped himself up on his arms. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, staring down at the ground. His entire face burned. “I just…you caught me off-guard.”

Aang frowned as he sat down cross-legged next to him. “Why? Is it that strange that I wanted to see you?”

“…No, I just…I don’t know!” He blew smoke out of his nose, frustrated that he could never articulate how he felt, what he was thinking. “I just…why would you want to see me? I’m always so awkward, and withdrawn, and my family was responsible for the genocide of your people. I’m leading a nation that still hasn’t gotten over our arrogance from the war. How can you even stand to be around me without—?”

His voice strangled in his throat. He was breathing heavily and he felt dangerously close to tears.

“But you aren’t any of those things, Zuko,” Aang said, placing a hand on his back. “Well, you are awkward, and you can get kinda moody sometimes—”

Zuko agreed with this, obviously, but it stung just then. He clenched his hands into tight fists.

“—But you’re so much more, too. You’re thoughtful, and kind, and you always work so hard to correct your mistakes. You turned against your own family to help me win the war because you knew what your nation was doing wasn’t right – no one in a hundred years had done that!”

Aang smiled. “And you’re the guy who’s helping me rebuild the Southern Air Temple from the ground up, all because I was feeling sad. So why wouldn’t I want to be around you? You’re great!”

Zuko looked up at him with wide eyes, hardly able to believe his ears. But Aang was genuine, earnest, as he always was. To think that he really felt that way about him of all people… Zuko’s tears fell before he could stop them. He rubbed his eyes with his arm, trying to focus on taking even breaths. He wanted to say something meaningful, but he just couldn’t come up with anything. “I—thanks.”

Aang seemed to understand, anyway. He patted him on the back and then airbent himself to his feet, grinning as he lifted his arms. “So, the Roaring Lion Vulture, right?”

He went through the form almost perfectly, even though Zuko had been so sure that he wasn’t watching. And his flames were stronger than they’d ever been before, as if his long-standing fear wasn’t holding him back for once. They were absolutely beautiful, with strong orange cores flecked by reds and yellows, and they almost seemed to dance as they emanated from Aang’s arms like lion vulture wings.

It was by far the most impressive firebending he’d ever done.

And he’d done it here, in Zuko’s private training room, all because he’d wanted to see him.  

Zuko tucked his smile into the crook of his arm, watching Aang fluidly weave around the room and feeling like his heart would squeeze right out of his chest.

--

The next morning, Zuko slipped into his greenhouse to water the plants and regulate the fire keeping the room perfectly humid, then froze just inside the door.

Aang was there, in the greenhouse, staring at his plants. Zuko almost hadn’t seen him at first, as he was surrounded by lush, green Air Nomad foliage. There was a lot more than just the lemon trees now – every time Zuko went somewhere for a diplomatic function, he combed through the markets, looking for rare Air Nomad plants and seeds. It had taken a long time, but he’d found a decent collection and was now growing as many as he could in the greenhouse. The eventual goal was to move them to the air temples when they were ready, but he still hadn’t figured out how to tell Aang about them.

And now he was here. Sitting cross-legged under their densely packed leaves and staring up at them in awe.

Zuko was mortified.

“…You’re not good at allowing people their privacy, are you?” he accused as he walked over to the Air Nomad section.

Aang jumped about twelve feet in the air, his airbending nearly blasting him to the ceiling. He turned around to face him with a sheepish grin on his face, rubbing the back of his head. “…Sorry. But why were you keeping this place a secret? It’s amazing!”

He turned back to the plants, reaching out to touch their leaves reverently. “I remember seeing all these plants around the temple when I was growing up! Monk Gyatso always tried to teach me what they were and what we used them for, but I was never very good at remembering that kind of stuff.”

“…The one you’re touching now is a cloud rhododendron,” Zuko said, reaching out to run his hand over a small white flower. “And this is a snow lotus.”

“That’s right…” Aang murmured before laughing brightly. “That’s right! I can’t believe you know all this, that this is even here. Who do you pay to do all this, anyway? Maybe I should commission them to do some landscaping!”

Zuko’s words died in his throat. He shuffled around a bit, fiddling with his sleeves, adjusting his headpiece, before muttering quietly. “I do it myself.”

Aang’s face was doing a funny thing, like he couldn’t decide whether to gasp or laugh or cry. Zuko couldn’t look at him, his face heating up. This was exactly why he didn’t want to tell him! The idea of him gardening was ludicrous—

“…That’s amazing, Zuko,” Aang whispered. Zuko’s breath caught. “See? This is exactly what I was talking about yesterday. This is you – rebuilding where others would destroy, kindness where others would be selfish, growing life instead of taking it away. Doing what you can to the best of your abilities to make things right.”

Aang grinned at him. “That’s who you are.” 

Zuko stared at him – somehow it was just as difficult to hear it for a second time. He felt like he was going to cry again, and he could barely catch his breath around the all-encompassing warmth in his chest.

He was never going to get over this crush. Not ever.

“It’s been…healing,” he murmured, drawing his hand through the soil. “At first, I just started because I wanted to try growing some of the plants I saw and liked while I was banished. Then, I wanted to grow a few lemon trees for the Southern Air Temple, and our other friends gave me seeds and plants from their cultures to grow too, so it’s become this huge thing… But I like it. I’ve been trying to grow some endemic Fire Nation plants that almost got wiped out during the war, too. Hopefully everything here can eventually be transplanted back to their native homes when they’re ready.”

“…That’s so cool. I can’t wait to see it,” Aang said. Then, his eyes widened. “Wait, lemon trees? Like, the ones growing at the temple right now? You didn’t tell me you grew those!”

“Well, of course not,” Zuko muttered. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not!” Aang smacked his arm playfully, but when Zuko turned to face him, there were tears stuck in his eyes. “This means more to me than you’ll ever know, Zuko. Thank you.”

Aang hugged him. Surprised, it took Zuko a moment to respond, but then he wrapped his arms around him tightly, tucking his chin over his shoulder and savoring his warmth. All around them, plants from both their nations rustled gently in the mist.

--

Things seemed to change between them, after that.

Aang came to visit Zuko more often, for one thing, even when they weren’t restoring the air temple or working on his firebending. He was a welcome distraction from the never-ending pressure and weight of Fire Nation politics, and they spent most of their evenings chatting and laughing or playing games. Even when they were apart, they sent letters back and forth all the time – Bian was getting so accustomed to it that all Zuko had to do was open the door to the hawkery before he flew over and presented his canister.

Other things were changing, too. Aang was more physically affectionate, hugging him or resting his hand on his shoulder or bumping him playfully, and Zuko had even started gaining the courage recently to touch him back. They were starting to spend time outside of the palace and temple too, trying new restaurants and going to festivals and plays around the world. It was fun, more fun than Zuko had had in a long time.

Even work on the Southern Air Temple was different. Tasks were much easier and faster now that they were over the initial hurdles of figuring out the best ways to repair each area, which led to them being able to cross off a huge amount of tasks from their list each time they visited.

And then one day, unbelievably, it was finished.

Zuko and Aang stood there for a long time, staring at the last historical scroll they’d hung up on the wall. Zuko could hardly believe that it was actually done. They’d spent so many years working on it, piece by piece, that it had become routine to think about it, plan out what was next, acquire the necessary materials. The realization that they didn’t have to do any of that anymore was astounding.

It was done.

Aang’s voice was raw. “…It’s just the way I remember it.”

He turned to grin at Zuko, even as tears streamed down his face. “I can’t thank you enough, Zuko. This would still be lying in ruins if you hadn’t offered to help me.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Zuko murmured, smiling back. “I was happy to do it. It felt like the work I was doing finally meant something.”

Aang nodded, sniffing and rubbing his eyes. Zuko held his arms out and Aang folded into him, holding him snugly around the waist. Zuko rested his chin on Aang’s shoulder as he stared out at the completed temple, letting his own tears fall. This was a relatively new experience, crying tears of joy, but it felt good.

Aang eventually pulled back, but he was still close, close enough that Zuko could feel his breath on his face. He inhaled jerkily, his eyes dropping to Aang’s lips before he forced himself to look away. Aang was staring at him, and Zuko burned. Spirits, he hoped Aang couldn’t see anything on his face – he didn’t want to ruin anything, not now—

“So, how do you want to celebrate?” Zuko blurted out.

Aang blinked at him. It took him a moment to say, “That’s a good question. To be honest, I haven’t thought about it at all – I think part of me doubted that we’d ever finish.”

Zuko smirked. There had definitely been times throughout the process where he’d felt like that. “I get that. Maybe we could host a party, or a festival?”

Aang brightened. “A festival would be perfect! That way we can restore some old Air Nomad traditions while we’re at it!”

“Sounds great.” Zuko nudged him playfully. “So long as you remember what the tradition’s actually for this time.”

Aang rubbed the back of his head, grinning sheepishly. “Yeah, the Yangchen festival didn’t work out so well. But there are tons more! I’ll think about it, and then we can get started setting it up!”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said, and felt warm in the face of Aang’s smile.

--

Several months later, they held the Lion Turtle Festival at the Southern Air Temple.

It was a festival celebrating the first Air Nomads, who lived on the backs of the air lion turtles that had granted them their bending. There was food and music and lantern lighting, but most of the festival focused on airbending, the beauty of its forms woven into intricate dances. Aang had been practicing for ages to make sure that he perfectly memorized every single one. He was almost like the first Air Nomads himself, after all, bringing airbending to a world that had been without it for so long.

Zuko had arrived a few days before the festival to help make sure everything was ready, but it turned out that he didn’t need to. Aang’s Air Acolytes had taken care of most of the planning, providing the food, decorations, and most of the guest list. Zuko was amazed at the amount of work they had done in such a short time – the temple was almost unrecognizable, and he’d just spent the last few years restoring it.

It was weird having so many people there, when he and Aang had been the only ones around for so long, but it was as it should be. The temple finally felt lived in: there were guests staying in the bedrooms, Air Acolytes meditating in the designated chambers, ships and flying animals soaring lazily around the temple grounds, kids playing in the courtyard.

It was like they had transported back in time, and though Zuko knew it would never be quite the same, it felt like their restoration was truly a success.  

And it was great having the gang back together again. It’d been a while since all of them could meet up in one place, as their busy schedules very rarely lined up, but it was just like old times. No matter how long it had been since they’d last seen each other, no matter how old they got, they all came back together exactly the same way, like they were all still teenagers.

It was one of life’s few constants, and Zuko was endlessly grateful for it.  

After wandering around the food stalls for a while, Aang, Sokka, and Toph broke off to try and teach some Earth Kingdom kids how to play airball. Zuko joined Katara to watch, leaning against the railing that overlooked the playing field. It was the same railing that Aang had been so frustrated with, the one he had spent so many hours shifting, but now it was absolutely perfect. Zuko could easily imagine a young Aang standing here, throwing pies at unsuspecting victims with Monk Gyatso. “Hey, Katara.”

She looked away from Sokka falling on his ass directly on top of one of the wooden poles, a smile on her face. “Hey, Zuko! You and Aang did amazing work here.”

He smiled back at her. “Thanks. It was a lot, but it feels really good that it’s done. I’m glad everyone can be here to celebrate with Aang.”

“I’m really happy, too.” Katara’s smile softened. “It’s something he’s wanted to do for a long time, but it always seemed like he had a mental block every time he tried to work on it.”

Zuko nodded. “Yeah, it was…really tough on him. But it helped to take breaks, too.” He gestured down at the arena. “Like embarrassing myself trying to learn airball.”

“He told me you actually got pretty good at it,” Katara said with a smirk. “It made him really happy.”

Zuko blushed. “Yeah, well, it turns out it’s not impossible to play with firebending. I don’t know how those earthbenders are going to get anywhere, though.”

Katara laughed, turning to watch their friends again. Zuko fiddled nervously with his sleeves. He wanted to talk to her about a decision he’d made, but he couldn’t figure out how to bring it up. As he was flying to the temple for the festival, he’d realized that it would be the last time he’d need to come here for a while. Their work was done, and Aang had told him that some of the Air Acolytes were planning on moving into the temple, so they’d be the ones to handle any necessary upkeep. The Southern Air Temple wasn’t theirs anymore – their excuse to spend time together, their home away from home, their private space, just for the two of them.

And he’d also realized that he didn’t want that to be the end of it. He didn’t want to go back to only seeing Aang once or twice a year; he didn’t want to pretend that he didn’t love Aang with all of his heart; he didn’t want to need an excuse just to see him. He didn’t know if Aang felt the same, but he realized that he wanted to share their lives together, for as long as they could.

So he’d decided to try asking Aang out after the festival was over, but he wanted to make sure that Katara was okay with it. He didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable about the whole thing.

He’d practiced what he was going to say for days, but unfortunately it had completely left his head now that he was here.

Eventually, he decided to just spit it out. “Um, Katara—?”

“Yeah?” she said, still watching the game, or what was just barely passing for a game.

He didn’t say anything else for so long that she finally turned to face him, a frown on her face. “Zuko? Is everything alright?”

He swallowed thickly. “I, uh…I really like Aang.”

It embarrassed him just saying that, so he hurried to continue before she could respond, “I don’t know if he feels the same way about me, but I was thinking about asking him out, so I wanted to check with you, because I know you’re not dating anymore but you were still his partner for a long time and you both care about each other a lot, so I didn’t want you to think that I—or feel like I—”

“Zuko,” Katara interrupted gently, putting a hand on his arm. “It’s okay, really. I appreciate you telling me, but you didn’t need to. You’re not stepping on my toes or trampling on my feelings by wanting to date someone I haven’t seen romantically for almost five years.”

Zuko shook his head slightly. Her sheer kindness was sometimes baffling. “Maybe so, but you could stand to be a little selfish, Katara.”

She laughed. “Oh, but I am!” She leaned in closer to him, whispering like she was sharing a secret, “See, I’ve actually started seeing someone new too, but I was kinda worried about telling Aang, that he’d react the way you worried I would. But if he’s dating you, then it’ll be fine!”

Zuko blinked at her in astonishment. Then, he laughed. “You’re messing with me!”

“It’s true!” She grinned. “But even if it wasn’t, it would still be okay. I’m not dating Aang anymore, so he can date whoever he wants. And you guys seem good for each other – I’m happy for you, really.”

Zuko cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um, Katara, I haven’t actually asked him out yet…”

“He’ll say yes,” she said, nudging him playfully. “Trust me, I’ve known him long enough, and close enough, to recognize the way he looks at you.”

Zuko blushed. “…Well, I hope you’re right. I don’t really want to deal with the awkwardness if he turns me down.”

She squeezed his arm, leaning into him. “You’re worth loving, Zuko. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

She always managed to see straight through him, no matter what he did or said. Tears pricked at his eyes and he took a shaky breath, putting his arms around her. Even though he had decided to tell Aang, that it was worth the risk, he was terrified – terrified of rejection, terrified of nothing being the same after he confessed, terrified of losing the person he cared so much for, terrified of realizing he was just as unlovable as his father always said he was.

But he wanted to be brave. He wanted to believe that Katara’s words were the truth.

“…Thanks, Katara,” he murmured, blinking his tears away.

She patted his back. “Anytime. Glad I can be the one to help you out, this time.”

“You’re always helping me out,” Zuko said. “You and all the others. I’m…really grateful.”

“That’s what friends are for,” she said, no hesitation or doubt in her voice. It meant more to Zuko in that moment than she could ever know.

Down below, the ‘game’ had dissolved into a glorified dodgeball, Aang shooting the ball at Sokka, Toph, and the kids while they blocked and ran, their laughter echoing throughout the temple. The field itself was barely even being used anymore.

Katara pulled away, turning to grin at him. “Since the field’s opened up, want to see if a waterbender can beat a firebender at airball?”

He grinned back. “You’re on.”

--

The festivities were still going strong, continuing all through the night and into the next day.

In the evening of the second day, Zuko went up to the roof above the Alta of Remembrance, searching for a little peace and quiet, and was surprised to find Aang already sitting there, Momo curled around his shoulders. Aang froze when Zuko first ascended the stairs, but relaxed again once he saw who it was. He conspicuously wiped his eyes with his arm as Zuko sat down next to him. Momo sprang onto Zuko’s shoulder and Zuko rubbed his head gently as the three of them sat in silence, watching the sun set lower and lower and the stars start to wink to life.

“You okay?” Zuko asked softly. 

Aang nodded, but couldn’t speak for a moment. Zuko waited patiently, seeking out each constellation as they slowly came into view.

“…I’m really happy to have everyone here,” Aang said after a while. Another tear slid down his cheek, and he sniffed. “I just wasn’t expecting it to hurt so much. Somehow, instead of focusing on how much life is filling the temple again, all I can think about is how there’ll never be an authentic Lion Turtle Festival ever again. I’ll never have anyone I can actually fully play airball with. I’ll never taste the monks’ cooking again. No one will ever be able to go through the traditional airbending forms with me. And even though everyone’s trying their best to replicate it…it’s just not the same.”

Zuko looked down at his lap. He didn’t know what he could say that would help. He doubted there was anything, anyway – nothing could take away the pain and isolation of genocide, or fill the empty rooms and corridors in the temple.

But he still felt he should say something. Aang was the last of his people, but he wasn’t alone.

“I’m sorry,” was the lame thing he finally came up with. He winced, chastising himself for still being so bad at this, even after all of these years.

But Aang smiled at him, wiping at his eyes again. “Thanks, Zuko. When you’re here with me, I feel like I can survive anything.”

Zuko blushed. “I’m glad I can help, at least a little bit. I can’t take away what happened, but I can at least make sure that you never have to suffer through it alone.”

Aang’s smile softened, and he shifted closer to Zuko. They watched the stars again, and then some spider bats as they darted through the night sky.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” Aang sat up suddenly and dug around in a satchel at his side, finally producing a half-burnt, misshapen pie. “Ta-da! I made a pie for you from the lemon trees – I’m sure it’s not as good as Monk Gyatso’s, but I’m fairly confident it’s edible.”

Zuko took the pie with trembling hands, so overwhelmed with emotion that he couldn’t speak. The pie looked utterly unappetizing, but it meant so much – it was the culmination of everything that had happened between them recently, every touch, every gesture, every feeling shared between them.

He loved him so much that it ached – how was it possible to love someone this much?

“…Thanks, Aang,” he murmured, suddenly grinning so wide that his cheeks hurt. “I don’t think it’s edible, but we can always just toss it at somebody.”

Aang’s eyes widened, and he laughed with delight. His smile made Zuko’s heart pound faster in his chest. He was stunningly beautiful, framed by the moon, his arrows and his skin aglow with light. Looking at him, at this amazing person he had somehow managed to get to know and befriend, Zuko suddenly realized that he didn’t want to wait until the end of the festival. He wanted Aang to know just how much he was loved.

“Aang, I, um—”

He didn’t get any further before Aang leaned over and kissed him.

For a moment, Zuko was frozen, unable to process what was happening. This was not the first time he’d kissed someone, but it was so unexpected that he found himself unsure of what to do, where to put his hands. Then he finally realized that Aang was kissing him and he kissed him back, wrapping his arms around him to pull him closer, the pie balanced precariously in his lap. Aang hummed, cupping Zuko’s face as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. It was so much better than anything Zuko had fantasized about.

It was everything.

He laughed softly as they separated to breathe, his pulse thundering. He had a silly grin on his face, but for once he wasn’t embarrassed about it. “I wanted to ask you out, but you beat me to it.”

Aang just stared at him for a moment. He seemed thrown off, and Zuko frowned. Had he misread something? He didn’t think so, since someone usually didn’t kiss someone else unless they wanted to date, right—?

“Zuko…” Aang smiled sheepishly, “aren’t we already dating?”

Zuko sat there, absolutely floored. He gaped at Aang for what had to be a solid minute. “…What?! Since when?!”

“Since you taught me how to do the Roaring Lion Vulture.” Aang seemed confused now, too. “I thought you—well, I—”

“We never talked about it!” Zuko shouted. He quickly went over every single interaction he’d had with Aang since then, but it just didn’t make sense – how could he have missed something like that?! “Wouldn’t we have talked about it?!”

Aang cringed, staring down at his lap. “I would’ve, normally, but I’ve been—”

He cut off, swallowing. “I’ve been afraid to admit how serious I am about you. So I thought, if we just kept it casual—”

Zuko moved away from him entirely. His heart felt lodged somewhere in his throat. “…Casual?”

“I’m not finished!” Aang said forcefully, scooting after him and taking his hands in his. “I thought it could be like that, but I quickly realized that it couldn’t be. I mean, I—I like you too much, and you mean too much to me to treat you like that.”

Zuko’s heart rate kicked up and his face burned. He could hardly believe his ears – he felt dizzy, suddenly, from the emotional whiplash.

“I just—” Aang looked down, biting his lip. “What if we end up like me and Katara?”

Zuko exhaled slowly. It was true that it was a real possibility – while they both currently didn’t mind coming together as often as they could, no matter how infrequent it was, that didn’t mean they’d always feel that way. He was sure that Aang and Katara had been fine with it at first too until suddenly, one day, it wasn’t fine at all.

“…I can’t say that we won’t,” Zuko murmured. Aang’s mouth crumpled. “…But I also think we’re still worth a shot – even if it doesn’t work out, it’s worth it to me. You’re worth it. Cause I…I like you too much, too.”

Aang smiled and he shyly tried to hide it behind his hand. “Really?”

Zuko scowled at him. “You must’ve known that if you thought we were dating this whole time!”

Aang laughed. “Okay, okay, I get it! I should’ve talked it over with you. But I feel the same way, so…I want to give us a shot, too.”

“…So, we’re dating?” Zuko asked. It seemed necessary to make sure.

“Yes.” Aang beamed at him. “We’re dating.”

Zuko grinned back, his smile so wide that when Aang leaned in to kiss him again, it at first landed on his teeth. But they quickly got lost in each other, the roar of the crowds celebrating down below slowly fading away as they entered into a world all their own. Aang was incredibly warm, and Zuko craved his heat like he was the sun itself.

“…The Lion Turtle Festival usually ends with a big dance performance,” Aang said when they parted again. His smile was blinding. “The Air Acolytes and I are going to perform a more traditional dance, but afterwards I…I’d like it if you danced with me.”

Zuko huffed and rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, his cheeks burning. Of course he would. That had been a staple of their friendship for years now, after all – it made sense to carry it over into whatever this new relationship between them was, too. “Fine. I guess it can’t be any worse than those fancy dances my father always forced Azula and I to go to when we were growing up.”

Aang laughed as he airbent himself to his feet and held a hand out to Zuko. “I hope it’s a thousand times better than that.”

“As long as I don’t have to wear a dress,” Zuko muttered, smirking as he took Aang’s hand and let him pull him up.

Aang’s grin turned teasing. “You could show up naked for all I care.”

Zuko made a face. “Actually, I think I prefer the dress.”

Aang laughed and kissed him one more time before they descended from the roof together, the pie safely back in Aang’s bag until they found a suitable target.

By the time they made it back down to the main courtyard, the Air Acolytes had already set up musical instruments and a large space for them to dance in while a crowd started to gather around the perimeter. The Air Acolytes had been warming up or murmuring to each other, but they all snapped to attention as Aang left Zuko at the edge of the crowd with the rest of their friends and confidently strode to the middle of the clearing.

He smiled at each Air Acolyte and then turned to face the crowd. “I wanted to thank everyone for being here. It means a lot to me that we were able to hold the first Lion Turtle Festival in a hundred and twenty-two years!”

The crowd cheered, and Aang’s grin stretched wider. “As per tradition, we’ll be ending with a dance. The Air Acolytes and I have prepared something for you, but after that, anyone is welcome to come in and dance!”

With that, he nodded at Jingbo, who nodded back as he started drumming out a steady beat. Aang and the Air Acolytes fell into formation, standing perfectly still for a moment before slowly starting to leap and twirl through the air. Aang was the only one who could actually airbend, of course, but the Air Acolytes moved just as gracefully, flowing and weaving around one another in modified, but elaborate, steps. 

It was absolutely gorgeous. Zuko could hardly breathe through the exhilaration of it – he’d have to get Aang to teach him some of those steps sometime.

The dance went on for several minutes, and ended with Aang sending out a gentle arc of air into the crowd. The dancers froze – the audience held their breaths, and then burst out into wild applause. Aang was breathing hard, and there were tears streaming down his face, but he was smiling too, his joy apparent.

He and the Air Acolytes bowed to the crowd, and then Jingbo began pounding out a different rhythm on his drum, a faster, more chaotic beat. The crowd eagerly poured into the clearing, dancing and bending the elements in a frenzy of celebration.

Aang caught Zuko’s eye, and Zuko went to join him in the center.

They’d never danced in front of anyone before, besides Ran, Shaw, and their friends of course, and while others were dancing too, Zuko was a bit self-conscious as he and Aang fell into step together. Before long, however, everything else faded away as he focused on Aang and the dance. They’d added the Roaring Lion Vulture into their routine, which demanded his full attention, especially after they put their own personal spin on it. While Zuko was the lion vulture, his wings of fire coating his arms, Aang was the wind beneath him, perfectly blending in some airbending forms to boost Zuko’s flames. They weaved around each other, fire and air together, Aang’s fingers brushing against his torso every time they drew close together.

At the end of the form, they seamlessly transitioned into the Dancing Dragon – no matter how often they did this, or how much Zuko pretended to find it embarrassing, this form would always be special. It had given them their firebending, but it had also brought them together, made them inseparable. Their firebending, like their partnership, was strong because even when they were separated, they were always in sync.

And they always came back together.

Zuko bent to the side, his fists stretched out, and felt Aang there to meet him, as he always was.

The crowd applauded and cheered, startling Zuko, who’d somehow managed to forget all about them. He bowed awkwardly, his embarrassment returning, but the crowd’s attention didn’t linger on them for long as a trio of fire, water, and earthbenders started up an elaborate routine elsewhere in the circle.

Zuko let out a breath of relief as he turned to face Aang again. Aang sent him a mischievous grin, then broke out into a traditional Fire Nation dance. Zuko narrowed his eyes at him – he’d never really enjoyed this dance, but what the hell. If it could make Aang smile, then…

He fell into step, incredibly rusty, but his body surprisingly still remembered the moves. At the edge of the crowd, Katara laughed before rushing forward to join them, moving as gracefully as if she’d performed the dance yesterday. Suki joined her, and then Sokka and Toph. Increasingly, no one could remember the steps and were just laughing and bouncing around however the music moved them.

Zuko met Aang’s eyes again, and they grinned at each other. There may not have been many Air Nomads to hold the festival, but the spirit of it was there, and their family was there, and in that moment, everything was just as it should be.

--

Zuko woke early—so early that it was still dark out—to find that Aang was no longer beside him.

Months after the Lion Turtle Festival, the two of them found themselves at Zuko’s family beach house on Ember Island. Despite how long it had taken to fix up both the Southern Air Temple and the Fire Palace, they were still in the mood for renovation. The other Air Temples desperately needed the same attention they’d given the Southern Temple, but they weren’t ready for another huge project just yet. The beach house, on the other hand, was much smaller and held a special meaning for the two of them. Along with the Western Air Temple, it was where they’d really formed their friendship after months of being enemies.

And the faster Zuko could erase his awful family history from this place, the better.

They’d spent the first day getting rid of a lot of old furniture, separating out family heirlooms that would be relocated to the Fire Palace. Zuko had cried at least three times during the process, but Aang never called him out on it, just held him and kissed him and told him that he was loved.

He’d gone to bed that night utterly exhausted, crawling into the old futon they’d found in the attic and falling asleep before Aang could even join him. Now, though, something had woken him, and he groped an arm around to try and find Aang with no luck.

He debated if it was really worth leaving the comfort of the futon, but he couldn’t fall asleep again that easily, so he got out of bed to look for Aang.

He eventually found him a bit down the beach from the house, sitting in the sand with a circle of candles around him. As Zuko watched, Aang carefully bent a flame onto each wick and then sat completely still. At first it seemed like he was meditating, but as Zuko drew closer he could see that his eyes were open, scanning the night sky.

Zuko was going to ask him what he was doing, but before he could, Aang noticed him standing there and put a finger to his lips. Confused, Zuko opened his mouth anyway, then closed it again as hundreds of firemoths suddenly blinked to life. They were beautiful insects that produced light in little pockets on their wings, each individual sporting a totally different pattern. A whole group of them combined, like what was here now, painted a unique portrait of light across the night sky. They hovered near the flames and clung to Aang’s shirt, flitting around in a dance that only they knew.

Zuko lit up a small flame of his own to draw them closer so he could look at the intricate patterns on their wings. Firemoths used to be his favorite part of summer. Whenever his family went to this very beach house, Zuko would wait for everyone to fall asleep before sneaking out and heading down to the beach. He would sit cross-legged in the sand, a small flame cupped in his hands. If he was patient enough, and still enough, eventually the firemoths would come out, their small bodies filled with vibrant light as they fluttered around his flame.

It was exactly what Aang was doing now.

Zuko had never met anyone who was as interested in them as he was – Azula had only ever been interested in zapping them with lightning. He’d never seen so many of them at one time, either. He didn’t know if it was because Aang was the Avatar, or if he’d just gotten lucky—as he usually did—but it was incredible. The insects, and the light patterns they drew in the sky, were stunning. And the look on Aang’s face was one of such pure joy that it made Zuko’s heart pound in his chest.

It was always the quiet magic of everyday life that made Zuko realize just how much he loved Aang, how lucky he was to be living this life with him.

He slowly moved to sit beside Aang in the circle, pressing a kiss to his temple as Aang snuggled into him. The candle flames swelled with Aang’s smile, before Zuko habitually brought them back down.

“Did I wake you?” Aang whispered.

“No.” Zuko held his breath as a firemoth landed on his hand, then released it when it fluttered off again. “I’d want to be awake for this, anyway. This was always my favorite part of summer.”

Aang nodded in understanding. “Mine, too.”

They watched the firemoths as they danced around the flames, burning with light, almost as if they were bending both fire and air. They were absolutely spectacular – Zuko’s heart was full as he held Aang, and Aang held him back. 

They sat together long into the night, awed by the magnificence of it all.