The first thing Katara said after the car drove away was that Toph, as a blind woman, shouldn't be using Uber.
"Why the hell not? I missed my last connection, and I wasn't going to walk." Toph opened up her folding cane with a flick of her wrist, specifically launching it in Katara's direction.
"Bec–ow!–because what if a murderer picked you up? How would you know?"
"How would you know if a murderer picked you up?" Toph countered, extending the handle on her rolling luggage. "Do they wear big signs around their necks that say 'I only murder people who can't read this?'" She shouldered her violin case and waited.
Katara sighed. "Okay, fine, whatever. You shouldn't need to get an Uber from now on, anyway. You can walk to work with Aang, and the city bus stops right in front of our building if you need to go anywhere else."
"Cool," said Toph. "The city bus sounds super, duper safe."
Katara led the way to their apartment. It would have been helpful for her to mention how much of the way was through tall grass and across a big dirt field, but then, Toph appreciated not being babied, too.
Inside, it still smelled like formaldehyde and new carpet. "The bedrooms themselves are pretty small, but the kitchen is so much bigger in the three-bedroom," Katara gushed. "The sink is full-sized, it's open to the living room, and there's enough counter space to put a cutting board. It's going to be really nice."
"You think it's going to be nice for five people to share one and a quarter bathrooms?" Toph's eyebrows were sky-high.
"I can do my part by pissing in the quarter-bath sink!" a male voice shouted from another room.
"Sokka," Toph grinned. Katara's brother barreled out and gave Toph a huge hug. "How's my old lifting buddy?"
Sokka was grinning, too; she could hear it in his voice. "Doing great, actually. Suki and I are engaged."
"Holy shit, congrats!" Suki and Sokka had captained athletic teams throughout middle and high school. They'd also fought hard to let Toph participate in sports when the school was worried about things like liability. "Are you guys gonna do it soon, or wait for chicken shit Aang and Katara to catch up and save money on a double wedding?"
"We're not afraid of getting married," Katara interrupted. "We're waiting until I finish medical school and pay down some of the debt."
"So you're gonna be, like, what, eighty?" Toph grinned. "'My interesht ratesh are down to sheventy-two pershent, Aang! Let'sh get hitsched before my hip shurgery!'"
"Why would I lose the ability to pronounce the letter 's' when I'm eighty?"
"You have your dentures out," Toph laughed, "because you were just giving the best blo–"
"Toph, please."
"–wjob of your life. Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Show me my room."
She took a little while to learn where everything was and count her steps. Katara had put her amp and other equipment in the corner, still in the big cardboard box Toph had mailed it to herself in. She spent a little time unpacking it, setting it up so she could play lazily in bed, while Katara arranged her clothes by type and color in the closet. With one ear under her headphones and one ear out, she tuned her electric violin. It wouldn't hurt to play a bit to celebrate her new place.
"And you know what?" Katara said, even though it had been at least five minutes since Toph had made fun of her. She did this a lot. Once, in high school, she'd showed up with a comeback a week after Toph had called her a nerd, and Toph accepted it as valid for the sheer novelty of the situation. They might as well have been arguing via messenger pigeon.
"What?" Toph asked, grinning.
"You've got a lot of nerve for someone who's never even been in a relationship."
"And never will!" Toph said, pointing at her friend, or at least in the vague direction of her voice. "Though I admit that's a shame. I'm a hell of a catch, and some ugly guy out there could have gotten a free pass with me, you know? I'd let a lot slide, visually. Basically everything."
"Wouldn't you still be able to feel his face?"
Toph waved her hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter, because relationships are bullshit. All the grabbing, and the kissing, and the 'oooh, Aang, you finally found out where the cli–'"
"Toph!"
"'–toris is.' You never stop me, you know, when you do that. I just keep talking."
"You can make fun all you want, but sooner or later someone will catch your eye. Or your ear, or cane, or whatever."
Toph threw a pillow at her. "You never say that to our other friends! Teo's never been in a relationship, and you leave him in peace! And what about Yue?"
"Teo's not the type for it. It's just not his thing. And Yue came out as asexual, you know that."
Usually, Toph would point out how Yue discovered she was asexual after dating Sokka, and have a big laugh at his expense, but she let it slide. "I'mtelling you, it's not my thing either!"
"But you're wrong," Katara said simply.
"Oh, my God," Toph groaned, leaning back on the bed. She immediately slammed her head into the wall, because she'd chucked her only pillow at Katara. "Ow."
Katara tossed it back a few seconds too late to cushion her head, hitting Toph in the chest instead. "Okay, tops on the left, bottoms on the right, the usual."
"Thanks, Katara."
"Anytime. Wanna stay in here and play for a while? We usually go to this really nice place around the block for dinner a couple of times a week. The owner gives us a huge discount. I'll come get you then."
"Sure. And really–thank you, Katara. For everything."
The older girl was quiet for a moment. "I'm just glad you got out of there, Toph."
Then she was alone.
—
Three assholes visited the Jasmine Dragon every morning, and he wasalways on duty in the fucking morning, because his uncle hated getting up early.
There was the business owner who thought he was a god walking among his slaves, and the old man who took as many free condiments as possible when he left, but his least favorite customer was the mom who stopped by for breakfast after dropping her kids off at school. She considered unsolicited health food advice a valid substitute for a tip.
But this morning! This fucking morning, she'd crossed the line. "You have some nasty acne scars there…Zuko." She squinted and leaned forward to read his name tag every time she said his name, even though she said it every single morning. No one else worked here in the mornings! There was only one disgruntled twenty-something who worked at this fucking place at all!
"No, I don't." Zuko put her cup of cappuccino and plate of toast down on the table, only rattling the dishes a little. "Need anything else?"
She pursed her lips in that special way she had. It reminded him of a cat's ass. "Sweetie, I can see them. You know what's good for acne scars? A–"
"It's a burn scar." He knew the pitted surface almost looked like an acne scar, but acne didn't generally affect one eye socket, distort an ear, and make an eye permanently squint halfway closed.
Instead of acknowledging his correction, she looked down at the food he'd brought. "This toast has char marks on it."
He looked down. "Yeah, it's brown. From being toasted."
She fixed him with a wide-eyed stare. "Those are carcinogens," she said. "I'm going to need you to make me some toast without the marks."
"So just bread, then."
She gave him a sharp look. "No, toast without the brown marks."
Zuko picked up the plate and took it to the back. He gave the back door, open to the alley behind their shop, a fleeting glance. He could just leave. He could just walk away and be a shiftless bum who never had to deal with a customer again. He could get some tarp and build a little tent using his bicycle every night to keep out the rain.
It was a nice fantasy, but it only lasted a few seconds. Who would help his uncle with the shop if he left?
He got some bread, set the toaster to its minimum setting, and messed with it until he got two pieces which were crispy, but not brown.
—
He always forgot that the afternoons were worse until they arrived. After a few hours off in the middle of the day while his uncle held down the fort, he'd return for lunch and dinner.
"Do you want to end up like that guy?" a man in a suit asked his daughter. "A high school dropout, scraping gum off of the bottom of tables for a living?"
The teenager wrinkled her nose. "No."
"Then you'd better work hard and score better on your next math exam," her father finished, tapping the books between them on the table.
Zuko wanted to grab the father by the shoulders and shout in his face. I have a degree in history! My LSAT score was 175! He knew it would accomplish nothing, so he scraped harder.
Worse were the students. He knew he shouldn't resent them, but deep in his heart, he did. He'd been good. Not as brilliant as his sister, but good. If he hadn't finally pushed his father too far, maybe he'd be at Harvard Law right now.
…to do what? Increase the family prestige? Continue to be trapped in the high-stress, low-ethics family business? His work at the Jasmine Dragon was meaningless, but at least he didn't have to lay awake at night wondering if he was actively contributing to someone's suffering out in the wide world.
Uncle Iroh brewed all the tea personally when he was in the shop, and he kept up a steady stream of chatter with everyone who came in. If anyone ever pissed him off, he hid it well. Actually, that was annoying; Zuko's rudeness never made his happy-go-lucky uncle give up. Iroh would just redouble his efforts, which only make Zuko angrier and ruder, and it would continue that way until they finally closed up at midnight.
Of course he'd choose today, of all days, to start up on his dating tirade while Zuko was doing inventory behind the counter.
"That nice girl, Jin, was in here again tonight," his portly uncle began, stroking his beard as he leaned on the counter. "She ordered a nice white tea with hibiscus, a good blend. She has excellent taste. You know, she has her eye on you."
"Great, Uncle. Fantastic." Zuko checked the date on their tin of jasmine, zeroed their balance with an empty container, then weighed what they had left of the tea. He checked the "reorder" box on his clipboard. "I don't care."
"Why not? It wouldn't hurt you to have some fun. You should stop avoiding her."
"It wouldn't be fun." He moved on to the oolongs, ignoring his uncle's pointed stare. "I'm avoiding her for a reason."
"I could give you an extra night off," Iroh offered. "One of the students from around the block would be happy to pick up a Saturday night shift just one time. Aang seems very nice. You could take a couple of bucks, take Jin to the movies."
"No."
"When they come in tonight, I'll ask Aang if he's free this Saturday," Iroh went on. "Then you'll be free to ask her to go out."
"I don't want to go out."
His uncle walked away, whistling a merry tune as if nothing had happened.
Zuko contemplated the back door again. There was plenty of time before the pack of hobos from down the street came in for dinner. He could make a break for it. Sure, it'd take a few seconds to remember the combination on his bike lock, and it didn't always unlock on the first try, so he'd have to jiggle it. And he kept the front tire inside, next to the sink, as an extra deterrent to thieves, and it didn't have a quick-release nut, so he'd have to get out his wrench to put it back on…
And who would help his uncle during the busy hours?
He sighed and got back to work.