The One with Cheap Food

"That's it."

Zuko slams the cheap orange tray down in front of Katara, who - previously absorbed in her book - jumps about a foot in the air.

"I know I'm an employee of this place, but it is not good for you to be eating this everyday. Pick a night, any night, and you stick around until close and I'm going to make a real dinner for you. And then you're going to take the leftovers home."

"I-"

"Tonight works? Good."

Katara watches him in shock as he stalks away. He turns back over his shoulder to add, "I have War and Peace in my car if you finish your book."

He hands her his keys when she inevitably finishes Jane Two before his shift ends.

Baffled to the depths of her soul, Katara unlocks an aging four-seater and pulls of a worn copy of Tolstoy's work. The paperback has been slightly blanched by the sun, the pages yellowed, and the cover curls at the corners. There's an impressive collection of bookmarks - an expired CPR certification, a program for a music revue, a scrap piece covered by the same image with slightly differing designs - that's about halfway through the book.

She slips back inside the popular Chinese takeout place, returns Zuko's keys, and starts War and Peace for herself, choosing a miniature cross-stitch pattern (!) as her bookmark.

She's slogging her way through the book, maybe a third of the way through, when he pokes her foot with the handle of a mop.

"You got a car?"

"Yes-"

"Good. Mind sitting on your hood while I finish cleaning?"

Katara realizes she's the only one in the restaurant. Desperately hoping her tan hides her blush, she nods and darts out the door.

There, standing at her car, Katara considers leaving. She almost does, pulling her keys out of her pocket, before realizing she'd be stealing his book. In addition, it looks like it's gonna rain so she can't leave the book on his hood, since who knows if he'll get out in time to rescue it, and she can't ruin such a well-loved copy.

She leans against her car, debating following a stranger to his house or ruining a book until the lights in the restaurant close and Zuko emerges.

"Follow me to my house?"

"Sure."

Halfway to his house, Zuko freaks out.

What the hell am I doing? I'm leading a girl to my apartment! She's a stranger. Well not really she's a regular who's always reading - what does she do that lets her have this much free time? Who reads in Chinese takeout places during their free time? - but it's not like they're friends.

Agni, he steamrolled right over her. He is the biggest jerk to ever exist. He should just die of shame-

No. That's an intrusive thought and an overcompensation. I'll just get out of the car and apologize.

Then, a few seconds after his heartbeat slowed, it raced to life again with the realization he couldn't decide which situation was worse: Uncle home or Uncle working late at the Jasmine Dragon.

Zuko pulls into his tiny drive, thanking his lucky stars there is room on the street for her to park. He opens his door and opens his mouth to apologize.

Katara screams, and Zuko immediately snaps towards her, leaping over the garbage bins in his haste to get to her-

Only to find her cooing over the alley cat.

"Aren't you the handsomest fellow."

"We all call her Jasmine."

Katara continues to coo unashamed. "Yes, just the loveliest little lady here. Bet you terrorize all the vermin."

Zuko snorts as he unlocks the front door. "We all feed her too well for that." He leaves it open behind him; Katara can come in when she's ready, and it's not as if Jasmine hasn't made herself at home before either.

He automatically starts rice on the stove, before opening the fridge and seeing the rice Uncle left in a Tupperware (with a smiley face on a post it note). Welp. Lunch tomorrow then.

The vegetables and spices are marshaled on the counter when he's startled by, "you make rice on the stove?"

"It's habit from before we had the rice cooker. Uncle got over it faster."

She just nods. "Do you need any help cooking?"

At least, he thinks that's what she said. He's already tuning everything out but the food. He waves her off, and starts mixing spices.

He's gone, though he's still standing in the kitchen. Katara shifts uncomfortably on her feet, before fishing War and Peace out of her purse, curling up on the couch, and digging in to read.

She's passed his bookmarks and embroiled in the complexities of Russian/French war when she hears him call her name.

He's got two plates set out on the kitchen table, and he's inviting her to serve herself. He doesn't touch anything until she has scooped herself a small helping of rice and what looks and smells like peanut curry.

She's not really all that hungry, but Katara is a good future grad student and so will never pass up free food.

Zuko digs in, however, and it only takes a few minutes of stilted conversation for the truth to come out.

"I never eat at the restaurant. It's decent food, but it's nothing like mine."

Katara smirks around a forkful of curry. It's good food. She's happy to admit she wants more, just later when she's actually hungry.

Right. He promised leftovers.

The conversation is still a little awkward, so she ventures a topic.

"So. War and Peace is a bit of a struggle to get through. What do I have to look forward to in the later chapters?"

"Oh, I have no idea. I haven't finished it. You know where my bookmarks are."

"But… the book is so worn."

He nods. "Yeah, I've been working on it for about three years now. It's the book I keep in my car for when traffic comes to a standstill, or unexpected wait-times at the dentist."

"I-"

"Are you offended?"

"Just shocked."

"Books aren't sacred to you, are they?"

"No, it's just- three years? How do you remember the storylines for that long? Seriously?"

Zuko shrugs in-between mouthfuls of rice. "Never had a problem with it. I was the obnoxious kid who checked forty books out of the library - the very limit- and then turned half of them in before the due date, renewing the others."

Katara stares in amazement as he polishes off his plate, goes back for seconds, but doesn't return to the table until he's put the leftovers in reusable takeaway boxes for her. "Told you you're not leaving without a lot of food."

She takes another bite - despite her stomach's growing protests - to keep her mouth from blurting, "can you just cook for me for the rest of my life?"

Instead, she asks if she can read a little more. She won't finish the brick-sized classic in one day, but his couch is comfortable and it means a little more relaxation and time with him.

He joins her, a respectable distance between them on the couch, with a copy of some other giant book. He reveals it's something of an art mystery novel, Elizabeth Kostova's The Swan Thieves when she asks. He opens it to some point halfway through.

That bookmark is a simple receipt, if faded from obvious reuse for this purpose.

She's relaxing, intending to ask to do this again, when the front door starts to open. Zuko's head snaps up from his book, eyes wide with fear, but not fear for his life, more like anticipation of embarrassment.

"Nephew! You will never believe what happened tonight at the- oh hello. Who is this lovely flower you've brought home, and why did I not know of her existence before? How could you spring this on me?" The older, more portly man drops a few bags on the kitchen table. "Hello, I am Iroh, Zuko's uncle. I imagine he's told you awful stories about me."

Katara, who knew Zuko's name and nothing else before tonight, smiles widely, replying, "only the best things. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Iroh smiles, before returning to the kitchen. "I absolutely must make you a cup of tea. It's only right that I make the best pot of jasmine I have ever made when my nephew finally brings a girlfriend home."

Behind his back, both Katara and Zuko silently choke. "Love is in the air, so it's no wonder my tea has been particularly perfect the last few days." He turns back to the two, taking in Katara serenely smiling while Zuko turns redder. "The secret ingredient is love."