Smokes 12
Chapter Twelve~
There was no one to greet Zuko when the cab pulled up the long driveway. Ozai was at work -typical, considering it was Sunday and his only son whom he hadn’t seen in months had finally come home. A single maid saw him carrying his suitcase up the front steps and tried to help him with it but Zuko shooed her off with a ‘no thank you’. He could barely imagine how he’d let other people take care of him as meticulously as the servants had before he left - now it just seemed strange.
Zuko wandered into the main foyer, marveling over the high ceiling, he’d almost forgotten how huge his father’s home was. He ascended the grand stair case, dragging his suitcase behind him, and headed down a side hall. The lower half of the walls had wood paneling, the top half was painted his father’s favorite shade of dark red. Hanging in the hallway were several paintings and scrolls, all of them priceless. At Iroh’s the only adornments on the walls were photographs, mostly of him, his late wife and Lu Ten, and a few even of Zuko. He claimed they were priceless too.
Zuko’s room hadn’t changed since he’d left it. It might have been a little tidier; a maid had obviously come through.
He stood in the doorway and looked around, wondering at the lack of nostalgia he felt.
On one wall was his closet with his TV stand and television. The wall opposite the door was taken up entirely by a huge window with a view of the capitol city. Then there was his desk, his bed, and his bookcase.
Zuko opened his suitcase. He’d only packed enough clothes for two days. He didn’t plan on staying longer.
When he’d moved out he’d been doped up and a servant had packed for him, now he took the time to go through everything he’d left behind. He stuffed his books and some photographs in his suitcase and found his cellphone in one of his desk drawers. His bonsai tree was still alive - someone must have remembered to water it. Zuko set it next to his suitcase then lay down on his bed.
He jumped in surprise as a black mass tried and failed to get onto the bed. “Hey Mako,” he murmured, mildly amused at the sheepish look the cat gave him. He leaned over and grabbed the obese feline around his middle and pulled him up beside him. Mako meowed and sprawled out happily. At least someone had missed him.
Iroh had asked Zuko to call him when he arrived so Zuko pulled out his cellphone and did just that.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me. Just calling to say I got here without dying.”
“Well that’s good,” Iroh chuckled. “How are Azula and your father?”
“I haven’t seen them yet,” Zuko absently scratched Mako’s ears and the cat purred like a train engine.
“How are you?”
“Fine. I packed some of the stuff I left last time.” Zuko knew that wasn’t really what his uncle was asking, but he didn’t really want to talk about himself at that moment.
Mako meowed at him and Zuko obliged by scratching his chin. He wondered absently how much attention his mother’s old cat was getting from Azula and his father - neither of them were big animal lovers.
“Hey, Uncle?”
“Yes?”
“How do you feel about cats?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Zuko spent the rest of his day lounging on the bed, pinned down by twenty-five pounds of cat on his stomach. By the time he got up he was covered in fur.
He journeyed through the too-big house and fetched the cat-carrier from its place in the laundry room, refusing all help from servants. Their insistence to wait on him was like a challenge to overcome, in a fit of defiance he went the extra mile and made himself some tea. Admittedly, he was lost for a moment. The stove at his father’s home was a much more advanced model than the stove at Iroh’s - but he managed to boil some water. He drank his tea with graham crackers - the only thing his nervous stomach could handle.
After eating so many meals in the warm, closeness of Iroh’s tiny kitchen Zuko found he couldn’t eat in his father’s dining room. A large, cold place, the walls were painted that same deep red with gilt-framed paintings the only decoration. The dark, oak table was long enough to allow many guests and the fireplace behind the head of the table was large enough to impress them.
Zuko ate his meager snack in the kitchen, a place he’d almost never been in when he’d lived there. He looked around at the stainless-steal appliances and dark linoleum countertops and he wondered why Ozai would need such a nice kitchen when he probably had never set foot inside of it.
“So you’re back?”
Zuko was caught off-guard but he tried not to let his surprise show. As ridiculous as it was, his first thought was to ask why in the world Azula would be in the kitchen - but he answered this himself when he remembered the great lengths his sister would go to to cause him misery.
“I’m not staying long,” he replied coolly.
“Of course not,” Azula crossed her arms and walked to stand by him, moving like a tiger stalking its prey. “Father’s not going to keep you here long - he’s going to find some other hole to dump you in so you can’t embarrass him anymore. Maybe you can go live on the coast with Li and Lo?”
“I’m not going anywhere but back home with Uncle,” Zuko said evenly. “Dad and I are going to have a talk.”
“Ha!” Azula looked like she might have been genuinely amused by this (which was never good). “That went over so well last time. Just make sure there aren’t any dangerous teapots around when you do.” She sneered and glanced at the teapot Zuko had been using. Zuko just scowled - he couldn’t argue, he’d been thinking the same thing.
“I wonder what Father will have to say about you sucking face with that homeless boy.”
Zuko could have denied it, could have asked how she’d known, but instead all he could manage was: “Jet’s not homeless!”
“Oh, sorry,” Azula rolled her eyes. “He just looks dirty and dresses like a peasant.”
Zuko oddly found ‘peasant’ more insulting than ‘homeless’ - but he reminded himself that Azula was just trying to get a reaction from him. Typical Azula behavior.
WWJD? What would Jet do? Come up with an angry yet semi-intelligent comeback - not Zuko’s forte. What would Uncle do?
He ignored Azula and took a sip of his tea.
“You know that boy looked so ratty - he may not be homeless but he’s certainly impoverished. If Father pays him off to keep him quiet do you think he’ll haggle or accept whatever’s offered to him right away?”
“Neither!” Zuko snapped, standing up in his anger.
Azula’s eyes flashed dangerously, “Really, Zuko, what would Mother say?”
Zuko felt all anger drain away as he remembered the last time he’d seen his mother. She woke him in the middle of the night and he’d been too sleepy to note that something was wrong but he remembered what she had said to him.
“She would say that I should be true to myself.” Zuko said evenly, “She loved me.” He didn’t need to add that their mother hadn’t loved Azula. It was a suspicion that was shared by both of them and hung in the air without being said.
For the first time Azula was the one left speechless. Zuko couldn’t help but feel a tug of victorious pride, but also a sting of disgust. He liked to win as much as anyone, but he didn’t enjoy inflicting hurt - that was what Azula did.
Picking up his tea, he side-stepped his sister and retreated to his room before she could marshal her forces. Half-way up the stairs he heard the front door open and a butler greeted, “Good evening, sir.”
Shit. His father was home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Zuko paced in his room, running a speech through his head though he knew he wouldn’t be able to say it properly when he actually spoke with his father. At some point he realized that he was waiting for his father to call for him. Ozai knew he was home, Zuko had heard the servant tell him so before he retreated to his room. Still his father hadn’t called for him and Zuko was torn between anger that he was being ignored and anger that he still felt obliged to wait.
He paced some more, and then sat on the bed. Mako didn’t join him; he’d seen the kitty-carrier and had gone into hiding.
Zuko wished he knew Jet’s phone number, he wanted to talk to him; he missed him so.
Zuko lay down and buried his face into his pillow. He couldn’t believe he had it so bad for Jet that he couldn’t spend a day without missing him. But it wasn’t so strange given the circumstances right? He was nervous and lonely in that house full of people who didn’t care about him, a house where so many bad things had happened.
Zuko wanted Jet with him; he could just imagine the boy’s arms around him, the sound of his heartbeat against Zuko’s ear, the smell of cigarette smoke, and the heat of his breath tingling against Zuko’s hair.
Zuko threw the pillow away and sat up. No use getting horny for his boyfriend.
His ears and face burned in a hot blush as he realized he’d just thought ‘boyfriend’. He felt a ridiculous surge of happiness.
Zuko wanted to be with his boyfriend. He wanted to touch that dark skin and be touched in turn. He wanted Jet to tell him a stupid story and call him ‘emo’ and laugh at him. He wanted to go home.
Zuko got up off the bed and left his room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ozai’s study had double doors. They were made of a dark, oak with gold trimmings, ornate - but not too much so. Zuko stood before them, psyching himself up.
The last time he’d stood before these doors he’d been carrying a teacher’s note for getting into a fight with a kid named Chan in the second grade. Zuko felt just as nervous now as he did then - but he forced himself to think of Jet and home.
He opened the doors without knocking, then stood in the doorway looking in.
Ozai was sitting at a large, wood paneled desk. On all sides of the room were bookshelves, home to encyclopedias, directories, trophies, certificates, and a few antiques that probably cost as much as the house.
Zuko let his gaze fall on his father, silhouetted by a burning fire in the mantle behind him. The glow made his father look dark and sinister, his gold eyes visible and shining coldly. Intimidating, but it was supposed to be, his father worked best by intimidating others.
“So you’re back.” His voice was deep and cold. Zuko’s heart slammed in his chest, but he’d be damned if he let his fear show. Those steely gold eyes glanced away, bored. “Don’t bother unpacking your things - you’ll be leaving soon. In the meantime stay inside; this’ll all go to waste if you’re seen by the wrong people.”
“I’m leaving,” Zuko said. His tone was strong but not too loud, still Ozai’s eyes snapped up in a harsh glare.
“What?”
“I’m leaving; I’m going back to Uncle’s tomorrow.”
“You will do as you are told.” Zuko watched his father’s large hands flatten the papers on his desk.
“No.”
“What did you say?” Those eyes pierced him, but Zuko felt stronger with each word.
“I’m done taking orders from you.”
Ozai’s eyes narrowed dangerously and he stood up quickly. “You dare defy me?”
Zuko could almost hear Jet’s voice: ‘”you dare defy me?” what dynasty did this guy come from?’
“I am your father, boy!”
“You are my father - my father who treated me like garbage. My father who hurt me - how can you possibly justify yourself?” Zuko felt years of pent up emotion pour out and he didn’t seem to be able to stop the flow. “You teach your children to lie and steal from others and you say you’re better than everyone else because you’re crueler than they are - what kind of father are you?”
“You think I should have been kind to you? If you were worthy of my respect I would give it to you. You think I should have taught you that everyone is equal? They’re not. You’re proof of that.”
“Maybe to your eyes.” Zuko glared, his chest felt full and strong. “But you’re the one setting the bar and I don’t need you to tell me I’m not reaching it. I don’t need you at all."
“Your uncle’s gotten to you.”
“Yes. He has, but it’s more than that. I’ve learned it for myself too.”
“So you’ll go back to him and spend the rest of your life as a failure. Maybe you’ll join him in the food industry as well?” Ozai’s voice was thick with contempt.
“Maybe,” Zuko hadn’t thought on it. “But whatever I do, it’ll be something I chose for myself and I’ll be the one who decides if I’ve failed or not.”
“Not after I’m through with you,” Ozai snarled through clenched teeth. “Don’t forget I’m still your father. I won’t let you run off to shame your family with some boy you don’t know - you won’t embarrass me! I won’t let you go so easy.”
WWJD? What would Jet do?
Zuko smirked, “What will you do? You think you can lock me up? Iroh knows I’m coming back - wouldn’t it be bad press if your brother called the cops to report your son missing? Do you think anyone will be interested how I got this scar?”
“You’re nothing!” Ozai roared, coming around the desk, his fists out. If Zuko was expecting his father to come at him to yell some more he would have been sorely disappointed. Ozai swung at Zuko’s face, something the boy was half expecting and was able to dodge so that his father just barely clipped his cheek. Toph hit harder.
Zuko grabbed the cuff of his father’s jacket and slipped his other arm under his father’s bicep. He flipped himself around so his back was to his father’s front, then lifted and pulled. Ozai let out an undignified shout as he was thrown over his son’s shoulder, smashing into a decorative antique vase in the outside hall as he landed.
Zuko let out the breath he’d been holding in. It didn’t feel very satisfying hurting his father - but he figured that was a good sign he wouldn’t turn out like him.
“Leave me alone.” He said as he glared down at Ozai. “All I want now is to never see you again. You do this for me and I’ll forgive you.”
“Forgive? You’re weak!” Ozai growled as he rolled over - he was moving slowly, must’ve forgotten to tuck his chin.
“When I say ‘forgive’ I mean not tell anyone about your off-shore accounts, those bribes you’ve been accepting, and the money you skimmed off the top of those donations from two years ago.”
Ozai stopped getting up and just stared, furious but too shocked to say anything. Two in one day, Zuko was getting good at turning people speechless - not something he was too proud of.
“Wha-“
“I haven’t been living here for so long that I don’t know what’s going on.” Zuko scoffed. If he could be proud of one thing, he’d be proud of his acting. His father would never know how scared he was. But he wasn’t afraid anymore was he?
Zuko looked down at his father, his hair mussed and broken pottery clinging to his clothes. No. He wasn’t afraid anymore. He stepped over, avoiding the man rising before him.
“Oh,” he stopped. “I’m taking the cat.” And he walked away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Safely in his room Zuko felt like he was bursting with energy. He didn’t know whether to lie down, go for a run, or puke. He decided none of them would do. What he wanted to do most was go home.
He’d planned to stay longer, but what was the point? He’d seen Azula and his father and he’d packed the things he meant to bring back to Iroh’s. If he left now he might make it back in time to help his uncle make dinner. Maybe visit Jet before he had to go to bed - he did have school tomorrow after all.
Just as when he arrived, the only one to see Zuko go was a passing maid. She was carrying a dust bin with the pieces of the vase he’d broken. She saw him see this and then, surprisingly, gave him a nod of approval. He found himself smiling.
The cabbie he’d called for helped load his suitcase while a caged Mako was set in the backseat.
Zuko got out his phone.
“Uncle?”
“Zuko? Jet just called - I told him you’d call him.” There was a pause. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Uncle.” Zuko looked one last time at the large, beautiful house he’d grown up in. He missed warmth and tea. “I’m coming home.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Who is that?”
“Who?”
“That guy with Katara.”
Jet leaned over to look, “By Jove! It’s Haru! He’s shaved his mustache!”
Zuko frowned, “He looks a lot better.”
Jet laughed and took a chomp out of his bread, twiddling a pen between his fingers to distract himself from lack of cigarette.
Having surrendered himself to full Iroh parentage, Zuko’s smokes were quickly found and thrown out - his uncle knew everything. Jet kindly said he would quit too - for his boyfriend’s sake. Zuko was still waiting for withdrawal to drive them crazy - but they’d stayed up almost all night (after realizing their Sign Language project was due and not finished) and they hadn’t killed each other yet. Nicotine addictions aside, they were both quick to find a new way to satisfy their oral fixations.
Zuko looked down at the school yard and saw Sokka without girlfriend, without sister, sitting beneath the yard tree. Suki, having just lost her dance partner, sat beside him. They both looked glum, him more so than her - but there was hope there. Zuko thought that they could make a nice couple.
He was distracted from his thoughts as Jet stole up behind him, grabbing him in a tight hug. “What’re you smiling at, emo kid?”
Zuko grinned; he kind of loved it when Jet teased him.
“I’m just happy.”
“No!” Jet mocked a gasp and Zuko elbowed him playfully. They quieted and drew together as a cold gust blew over the roof and through them.
“Geez, it’s almost winter.” Jet sighed, “The year’s going by fast - holy crap we’re graduating soon!”
He laughed gently and his breath fluttered Zuko’s hair.
“Yeah, it won’t be too bad though.” Zuko leant into the boy’s warm chest.
“I’ll miss math.”
“I’ll miss Nyla.”
They both laughed softly.
“They are up here!”
The two boys jumped a mile as Aang sprang out from the roof stairwell. Toph followed behind, blinking in surprise as a strong gust of wind whipped her hair in her face. Teo appeared behind her, leaning back in his chair so that he was doing a wheelie as he rolled out onto the rooftop.
“Did you get all the way up here yourself?” Jet asked in awe.
“Yeah,” Teo said nonchalantly. “I wanted to see the view.”
“How are you going to get back down?” Zuko asked,
“Very carefully? Let’s just say I’m not looking forward to it.” The boy wheeled himself over to the roof edge. Toph followed, her hand barely touching the top of his chair, letting him lead her.
“Jet! We came to talk to you about club.” Aang cut in.
“Yeah?”
“Yes. Because Sokka has been feeling down and Katara told me his birthday is this week - can we have a party at club, please?” Aang’s eyes grew big and fairly puppy-like.
“You have birthday parties?” Zuko asked - it was unheard of at Sozen Prep.
“Yeah - we’re all friends right?” Aang didn’t seem to understand the question, but Zuko gave a hesitant nod anyway.
“Yeah, sure, Aang.” Jet said, “I’ll talk to Piandao.”
“Thanks!” Aang threw his hands in the air, then abruptly lowered them. “By the way, why are you two hugging?”
Zuko’d almost forgotten - it seemed so natural.
“Zuko gets cold easily.” Jet lied and Toph snorted. Zuko had a feeling she knew exactly what was going on.
“Will you miss Aang?” Jet whispered into his boyfriend’s ear.
“No.” Zuko lied.
They both noticed Aang looking at them, eyebrows quirked.
“Hey guys,” Jet pulled away from his boyfriend. “You see that girl with the long black hair? She’s in our class, her name is June - watch what she does to those first year girls.”
The two younger boys leaned over to watch, Toph stood by, unimpressed.
Jet slipped behind them, slyly reaching an arm around his boyfriend’s waist and pulling him in. Zuko’s ears were blushing hot but the warmth of Jet’s lips on his was too much to pass up.
Below, the shrieks of first year girls introduced to Nyla was drowned out by another gust of fall wind, carrying scraping leaves and just a hint of frost.
Toph spoke suddenly, “Guys, we can hear you macking back there.”
FIN
There was no one to greet Zuko when the cab pulled up the long driveway. Ozai was at work -typical, considering it was Sunday and his only son whom he hadn’t seen in months had finally come home. A single maid saw him carrying his suitcase up the front steps and tried to help him with it but Zuko shooed her off with a ‘no thank you’. He could barely imagine how he’d let other people take care of him as meticulously as the servants had before he left - now it just seemed strange.
Zuko wandered into the main foyer, marveling over the high ceiling, he’d almost forgotten how huge his father’s home was. He ascended the grand stair case, dragging his suitcase behind him, and headed down a side hall. The lower half of the walls had wood paneling, the top half was painted his father’s favorite shade of dark red. Hanging in the hallway were several paintings and scrolls, all of them priceless. At Iroh’s the only adornments on the walls were photographs, mostly of him, his late wife and Lu Ten, and a few even of Zuko. He claimed they were priceless too.
Zuko’s room hadn’t changed since he’d left it. It might have been a little tidier; a maid had obviously come through.
He stood in the doorway and looked around, wondering at the lack of nostalgia he felt.
On one wall was his closet with his TV stand and television. The wall opposite the door was taken up entirely by a huge window with a view of the capitol city. Then there was his desk, his bed, and his bookcase.
Zuko opened his suitcase. He’d only packed enough clothes for two days. He didn’t plan on staying longer.
When he’d moved out he’d been doped up and a servant had packed for him, now he took the time to go through everything he’d left behind. He stuffed his books and some photographs in his suitcase and found his cellphone in one of his desk drawers. His bonsai tree was still alive - someone must have remembered to water it. Zuko set it next to his suitcase then lay down on his bed.
He jumped in surprise as a black mass tried and failed to get onto the bed. “Hey Mako,” he murmured, mildly amused at the sheepish look the cat gave him. He leaned over and grabbed the obese feline around his middle and pulled him up beside him. Mako meowed and sprawled out happily. At least someone had missed him.
Iroh had asked Zuko to call him when he arrived so Zuko pulled out his cellphone and did just that.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me. Just calling to say I got here without dying.”
“Well that’s good,” Iroh chuckled. “How are Azula and your father?”
“I haven’t seen them yet,” Zuko absently scratched Mako’s ears and the cat purred like a train engine.
“How are you?”
“Fine. I packed some of the stuff I left last time.” Zuko knew that wasn’t really what his uncle was asking, but he didn’t really want to talk about himself at that moment.
Mako meowed at him and Zuko obliged by scratching his chin. He wondered absently how much attention his mother’s old cat was getting from Azula and his father - neither of them were big animal lovers.
“Hey, Uncle?”
“Yes?”
“How do you feel about cats?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Zuko spent the rest of his day lounging on the bed, pinned down by twenty-five pounds of cat on his stomach. By the time he got up he was covered in fur.
He journeyed through the too-big house and fetched the cat-carrier from its place in the laundry room, refusing all help from servants. Their insistence to wait on him was like a challenge to overcome, in a fit of defiance he went the extra mile and made himself some tea. Admittedly, he was lost for a moment. The stove at his father’s home was a much more advanced model than the stove at Iroh’s - but he managed to boil some water. He drank his tea with graham crackers - the only thing his nervous stomach could handle.
After eating so many meals in the warm, closeness of Iroh’s tiny kitchen Zuko found he couldn’t eat in his father’s dining room. A large, cold place, the walls were painted that same deep red with gilt-framed paintings the only decoration. The dark, oak table was long enough to allow many guests and the fireplace behind the head of the table was large enough to impress them.
Zuko ate his meager snack in the kitchen, a place he’d almost never been in when he’d lived there. He looked around at the stainless-steal appliances and dark linoleum countertops and he wondered why Ozai would need such a nice kitchen when he probably had never set foot inside of it.
“So you’re back?”
Zuko was caught off-guard but he tried not to let his surprise show. As ridiculous as it was, his first thought was to ask why in the world Azula would be in the kitchen - but he answered this himself when he remembered the great lengths his sister would go to to cause him misery.
“I’m not staying long,” he replied coolly.
“Of course not,” Azula crossed her arms and walked to stand by him, moving like a tiger stalking its prey. “Father’s not going to keep you here long - he’s going to find some other hole to dump you in so you can’t embarrass him anymore. Maybe you can go live on the coast with Li and Lo?”
“I’m not going anywhere but back home with Uncle,” Zuko said evenly. “Dad and I are going to have a talk.”
“Ha!” Azula looked like she might have been genuinely amused by this (which was never good). “That went over so well last time. Just make sure there aren’t any dangerous teapots around when you do.” She sneered and glanced at the teapot Zuko had been using. Zuko just scowled - he couldn’t argue, he’d been thinking the same thing.
“I wonder what Father will have to say about you sucking face with that homeless boy.”
Zuko could have denied it, could have asked how she’d known, but instead all he could manage was: “Jet’s not homeless!”
“Oh, sorry,” Azula rolled her eyes. “He just looks dirty and dresses like a peasant.”
Zuko oddly found ‘peasant’ more insulting than ‘homeless’ - but he reminded himself that Azula was just trying to get a reaction from him. Typical Azula behavior.
WWJD? What would Jet do? Come up with an angry yet semi-intelligent comeback - not Zuko’s forte. What would Uncle do?
He ignored Azula and took a sip of his tea.
“You know that boy looked so ratty - he may not be homeless but he’s certainly impoverished. If Father pays him off to keep him quiet do you think he’ll haggle or accept whatever’s offered to him right away?”
“Neither!” Zuko snapped, standing up in his anger.
Azula’s eyes flashed dangerously, “Really, Zuko, what would Mother say?”
Zuko felt all anger drain away as he remembered the last time he’d seen his mother. She woke him in the middle of the night and he’d been too sleepy to note that something was wrong but he remembered what she had said to him.
“She would say that I should be true to myself.” Zuko said evenly, “She loved me.” He didn’t need to add that their mother hadn’t loved Azula. It was a suspicion that was shared by both of them and hung in the air without being said.
For the first time Azula was the one left speechless. Zuko couldn’t help but feel a tug of victorious pride, but also a sting of disgust. He liked to win as much as anyone, but he didn’t enjoy inflicting hurt - that was what Azula did.
Picking up his tea, he side-stepped his sister and retreated to his room before she could marshal her forces. Half-way up the stairs he heard the front door open and a butler greeted, “Good evening, sir.”
Shit. His father was home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Zuko paced in his room, running a speech through his head though he knew he wouldn’t be able to say it properly when he actually spoke with his father. At some point he realized that he was waiting for his father to call for him. Ozai knew he was home, Zuko had heard the servant tell him so before he retreated to his room. Still his father hadn’t called for him and Zuko was torn between anger that he was being ignored and anger that he still felt obliged to wait.
He paced some more, and then sat on the bed. Mako didn’t join him; he’d seen the kitty-carrier and had gone into hiding.
Zuko wished he knew Jet’s phone number, he wanted to talk to him; he missed him so.
Zuko lay down and buried his face into his pillow. He couldn’t believe he had it so bad for Jet that he couldn’t spend a day without missing him. But it wasn’t so strange given the circumstances right? He was nervous and lonely in that house full of people who didn’t care about him, a house where so many bad things had happened.
Zuko wanted Jet with him; he could just imagine the boy’s arms around him, the sound of his heartbeat against Zuko’s ear, the smell of cigarette smoke, and the heat of his breath tingling against Zuko’s hair.
Zuko threw the pillow away and sat up. No use getting horny for his boyfriend.
His ears and face burned in a hot blush as he realized he’d just thought ‘boyfriend’. He felt a ridiculous surge of happiness.
Zuko wanted to be with his boyfriend. He wanted to touch that dark skin and be touched in turn. He wanted Jet to tell him a stupid story and call him ‘emo’ and laugh at him. He wanted to go home.
Zuko got up off the bed and left his room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ozai’s study had double doors. They were made of a dark, oak with gold trimmings, ornate - but not too much so. Zuko stood before them, psyching himself up.
The last time he’d stood before these doors he’d been carrying a teacher’s note for getting into a fight with a kid named Chan in the second grade. Zuko felt just as nervous now as he did then - but he forced himself to think of Jet and home.
He opened the doors without knocking, then stood in the doorway looking in.
Ozai was sitting at a large, wood paneled desk. On all sides of the room were bookshelves, home to encyclopedias, directories, trophies, certificates, and a few antiques that probably cost as much as the house.
Zuko let his gaze fall on his father, silhouetted by a burning fire in the mantle behind him. The glow made his father look dark and sinister, his gold eyes visible and shining coldly. Intimidating, but it was supposed to be, his father worked best by intimidating others.
“So you’re back.” His voice was deep and cold. Zuko’s heart slammed in his chest, but he’d be damned if he let his fear show. Those steely gold eyes glanced away, bored. “Don’t bother unpacking your things - you’ll be leaving soon. In the meantime stay inside; this’ll all go to waste if you’re seen by the wrong people.”
“I’m leaving,” Zuko said. His tone was strong but not too loud, still Ozai’s eyes snapped up in a harsh glare.
“What?”
“I’m leaving; I’m going back to Uncle’s tomorrow.”
“You will do as you are told.” Zuko watched his father’s large hands flatten the papers on his desk.
“No.”
“What did you say?” Those eyes pierced him, but Zuko felt stronger with each word.
“I’m done taking orders from you.”
Ozai’s eyes narrowed dangerously and he stood up quickly. “You dare defy me?”
Zuko could almost hear Jet’s voice: ‘”you dare defy me?” what dynasty did this guy come from?’
“I am your father, boy!”
“You are my father - my father who treated me like garbage. My father who hurt me - how can you possibly justify yourself?” Zuko felt years of pent up emotion pour out and he didn’t seem to be able to stop the flow. “You teach your children to lie and steal from others and you say you’re better than everyone else because you’re crueler than they are - what kind of father are you?”
“You think I should have been kind to you? If you were worthy of my respect I would give it to you. You think I should have taught you that everyone is equal? They’re not. You’re proof of that.”
“Maybe to your eyes.” Zuko glared, his chest felt full and strong. “But you’re the one setting the bar and I don’t need you to tell me I’m not reaching it. I don’t need you at all."
“Your uncle’s gotten to you.”
“Yes. He has, but it’s more than that. I’ve learned it for myself too.”
“So you’ll go back to him and spend the rest of your life as a failure. Maybe you’ll join him in the food industry as well?” Ozai’s voice was thick with contempt.
“Maybe,” Zuko hadn’t thought on it. “But whatever I do, it’ll be something I chose for myself and I’ll be the one who decides if I’ve failed or not.”
“Not after I’m through with you,” Ozai snarled through clenched teeth. “Don’t forget I’m still your father. I won’t let you run off to shame your family with some boy you don’t know - you won’t embarrass me! I won’t let you go so easy.”
WWJD? What would Jet do?
Zuko smirked, “What will you do? You think you can lock me up? Iroh knows I’m coming back - wouldn’t it be bad press if your brother called the cops to report your son missing? Do you think anyone will be interested how I got this scar?”
“You’re nothing!” Ozai roared, coming around the desk, his fists out. If Zuko was expecting his father to come at him to yell some more he would have been sorely disappointed. Ozai swung at Zuko’s face, something the boy was half expecting and was able to dodge so that his father just barely clipped his cheek. Toph hit harder.
Zuko grabbed the cuff of his father’s jacket and slipped his other arm under his father’s bicep. He flipped himself around so his back was to his father’s front, then lifted and pulled. Ozai let out an undignified shout as he was thrown over his son’s shoulder, smashing into a decorative antique vase in the outside hall as he landed.
Zuko let out the breath he’d been holding in. It didn’t feel very satisfying hurting his father - but he figured that was a good sign he wouldn’t turn out like him.
“Leave me alone.” He said as he glared down at Ozai. “All I want now is to never see you again. You do this for me and I’ll forgive you.”
“Forgive? You’re weak!” Ozai growled as he rolled over - he was moving slowly, must’ve forgotten to tuck his chin.
“When I say ‘forgive’ I mean not tell anyone about your off-shore accounts, those bribes you’ve been accepting, and the money you skimmed off the top of those donations from two years ago.”
Ozai stopped getting up and just stared, furious but too shocked to say anything. Two in one day, Zuko was getting good at turning people speechless - not something he was too proud of.
“Wha-“
“I haven’t been living here for so long that I don’t know what’s going on.” Zuko scoffed. If he could be proud of one thing, he’d be proud of his acting. His father would never know how scared he was. But he wasn’t afraid anymore was he?
Zuko looked down at his father, his hair mussed and broken pottery clinging to his clothes. No. He wasn’t afraid anymore. He stepped over, avoiding the man rising before him.
“Oh,” he stopped. “I’m taking the cat.” And he walked away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Safely in his room Zuko felt like he was bursting with energy. He didn’t know whether to lie down, go for a run, or puke. He decided none of them would do. What he wanted to do most was go home.
He’d planned to stay longer, but what was the point? He’d seen Azula and his father and he’d packed the things he meant to bring back to Iroh’s. If he left now he might make it back in time to help his uncle make dinner. Maybe visit Jet before he had to go to bed - he did have school tomorrow after all.
Just as when he arrived, the only one to see Zuko go was a passing maid. She was carrying a dust bin with the pieces of the vase he’d broken. She saw him see this and then, surprisingly, gave him a nod of approval. He found himself smiling.
The cabbie he’d called for helped load his suitcase while a caged Mako was set in the backseat.
Zuko got out his phone.
“Uncle?”
“Zuko? Jet just called - I told him you’d call him.” There was a pause. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Uncle.” Zuko looked one last time at the large, beautiful house he’d grown up in. He missed warmth and tea. “I’m coming home.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Who is that?”
“Who?”
“That guy with Katara.”
Jet leaned over to look, “By Jove! It’s Haru! He’s shaved his mustache!”
Zuko frowned, “He looks a lot better.”
Jet laughed and took a chomp out of his bread, twiddling a pen between his fingers to distract himself from lack of cigarette.
Having surrendered himself to full Iroh parentage, Zuko’s smokes were quickly found and thrown out - his uncle knew everything. Jet kindly said he would quit too - for his boyfriend’s sake. Zuko was still waiting for withdrawal to drive them crazy - but they’d stayed up almost all night (after realizing their Sign Language project was due and not finished) and they hadn’t killed each other yet. Nicotine addictions aside, they were both quick to find a new way to satisfy their oral fixations.
Zuko looked down at the school yard and saw Sokka without girlfriend, without sister, sitting beneath the yard tree. Suki, having just lost her dance partner, sat beside him. They both looked glum, him more so than her - but there was hope there. Zuko thought that they could make a nice couple.
He was distracted from his thoughts as Jet stole up behind him, grabbing him in a tight hug. “What’re you smiling at, emo kid?”
Zuko grinned; he kind of loved it when Jet teased him.
“I’m just happy.”
“No!” Jet mocked a gasp and Zuko elbowed him playfully. They quieted and drew together as a cold gust blew over the roof and through them.
“Geez, it’s almost winter.” Jet sighed, “The year’s going by fast - holy crap we’re graduating soon!”
He laughed gently and his breath fluttered Zuko’s hair.
“Yeah, it won’t be too bad though.” Zuko leant into the boy’s warm chest.
“I’ll miss math.”
“I’ll miss Nyla.”
They both laughed softly.
“They are up here!”
The two boys jumped a mile as Aang sprang out from the roof stairwell. Toph followed behind, blinking in surprise as a strong gust of wind whipped her hair in her face. Teo appeared behind her, leaning back in his chair so that he was doing a wheelie as he rolled out onto the rooftop.
“Did you get all the way up here yourself?” Jet asked in awe.
“Yeah,” Teo said nonchalantly. “I wanted to see the view.”
“How are you going to get back down?” Zuko asked,
“Very carefully? Let’s just say I’m not looking forward to it.” The boy wheeled himself over to the roof edge. Toph followed, her hand barely touching the top of his chair, letting him lead her.
“Jet! We came to talk to you about club.” Aang cut in.
“Yeah?”
“Yes. Because Sokka has been feeling down and Katara told me his birthday is this week - can we have a party at club, please?” Aang’s eyes grew big and fairly puppy-like.
“You have birthday parties?” Zuko asked - it was unheard of at Sozen Prep.
“Yeah - we’re all friends right?” Aang didn’t seem to understand the question, but Zuko gave a hesitant nod anyway.
“Yeah, sure, Aang.” Jet said, “I’ll talk to Piandao.”
“Thanks!” Aang threw his hands in the air, then abruptly lowered them. “By the way, why are you two hugging?”
Zuko’d almost forgotten - it seemed so natural.
“Zuko gets cold easily.” Jet lied and Toph snorted. Zuko had a feeling she knew exactly what was going on.
“Will you miss Aang?” Jet whispered into his boyfriend’s ear.
“No.” Zuko lied.
They both noticed Aang looking at them, eyebrows quirked.
“Hey guys,” Jet pulled away from his boyfriend. “You see that girl with the long black hair? She’s in our class, her name is June - watch what she does to those first year girls.”
The two younger boys leaned over to watch, Toph stood by, unimpressed.
Jet slipped behind them, slyly reaching an arm around his boyfriend’s waist and pulling him in. Zuko’s ears were blushing hot but the warmth of Jet’s lips on his was too much to pass up.
Below, the shrieks of first year girls introduced to Nyla was drowned out by another gust of fall wind, carrying scraping leaves and just a hint of frost.
Toph spoke suddenly, “Guys, we can hear you macking back there.”
FIN