It had only been a few short months since the move, a few short weeks since he'd begun working in his uncle's tea shop and one perfect week since... well he and Sokka had, for the first time-
Mop in hand, Zuko dropped his head to hide the pink that flared across his cheeks at the thought. He was still smiling as he finished cleaning up the spilled tea, still smiling as he passed Iroh on the way back to the storage room and still smiling when he delivered a plate of tea cookies to table two.
The tea shop was a quiet, pleasant place on weekday nights - a good place to come study or read a book or play a game on one of the finely crafted Pai Sho tables that the Jasmine Dragon boasted. It was easy to get lost in the peaceful atmosphere and the soothing music, not to mention his own thoughts, so it was forgivable that it took him a moment to register the gaze of his customer when she lowered her magazine.
Azula smiled her razored, viper smile. "Those look lovely. Did you bake them yourself?"
For a moment Zuko could only stare. Then his expression hardened into something much less pleasant. "Azula. What are you doing here?" He kept his voice low, not caring to attract the attention of the other patrons.
"Do I need an excuse to visit my family?" she answered with only the deepest hurt, as though it were years of hugs and kisses that comprised their past rather than rivalry and abuse.
For a moment Zuko said nothing, just let the words settle awkwardly between them. "Given what happened the last time we saw each other, I'd have to say yes."
Azula rolled her eyes. "You're so sensitive. You should be happy, it got Mai talking to you again, didn't it? Maybe there's hope for you yet."
"Not that it's any of your business, but Mai and are are just friends," Zuko bristled and stepped back. "I've got tea to serve; you'll have to excuse me."
Before he could get far though, quick fingers snatched out for his wrist, Azula's perfectly manicured nails biting just faintly at his skin. "Father wants to see you."
For a beat, Zuko's stomach turned on end, and his breath hitched when he took in air to speak. "I'm tired of your lies, Azula. Enjoy the tea and cookies."
"I'm not lying, Zuzu!" His sister's voice rose, expression pleading as her grip tightened on his wrist, refusing to let him go. "He sent me to bring you home. He wants you to come home."
For a long moment, Zuko said nothing, though there seemed to be a million things ready on his tongue. Finally he turned his eyes on her, mouth set in a thin line. "Come with me." He shook free of her hold then and walked from the table, passing by the counter and Iroh as he went. "I'm taking my break, Uncle," he said, handing the man his apron as he pushed through the doors to the back room.
Azula offered their uncle a winning smile as she breezed past but the older man only frowned quietly. He folded Zuko's apron and set it aside, silent as the door clicked quietly shut behind his brother's children.
"So secretive," Azula mocked him, folding her arms once they were safely in solitude. "I suppose it's for the best - wouldn't want to air your dirty laundry in front of Uncle's customers any more than you already do. He doesn't let you bring your middle-class plaything here, does he?"
"Come off it, Azula." His palm hit the wall with a muffled thump and though her words rankled, he managed to swallow his ire and get to the point. "Tell me why you're really here."
She sighed dramatically, pressing a pair of fingers briefly to her temple, summoning patience for her dear, misguided, idiot brother. "I already told you. Father sent me. He wants me to bring you home. It's been months, Zuzu... don't you think this has gone on long enough?"
"Why would he want me home?" Zuko sank down into an old folding chair, ran an idle hand through his hair. "He seemed pretty serious about wanting me gone." The sarcasm was just evident in his voice and as though in agreement, his long-healed wrist gave a phantom throb.
"He was upset. Can you blame him? It was a pretty big shock. People do things they don't always mean when they're upset. You're his /son/, Zuko, what other reason does he need?"
For a long moment Zuko said nothing, just leaned against the chair's back and felt his stomach twist and untwist and try to turn itself inside out. It couldn't be possible, could it? That his father realized he'd been wrong? That he really did want him home? Zuko shook his head. "I- I don't know. You- you didn't see him that night..."
"I know father can be... passionate," Azula said slowly and for a moment, Zuko felt as though she were genuinely, truly empathizing with him. Though Azula had always been the golden child, it was impossible to grow up in their house and be unaware of their father's volatile tendencies. Hell, Zuko scoffed inwardly, most of the time she was in vocal support of and strove to emulate such tendencies. "Whatever happened... I'm sure it's only because he's concerned for you. Now his temper is cooled and he wants you to come home."
"And then what?" Zuko wanted to know, hope and scorn battling for dominance in his voice. "What next?"
Azula shrugged innocently. "I don't know. That's none of my business. Come home and talk to him."
"I don't know..." He wanted to. At least a part of him did. The part of him he thought he'd killed and buried had already begun struggling to the surface and he found it made him a little sick to think about. But if his father really -had- forgiven him, wanted to see him, to talk to him... didn't he owe the man that much? Just to hear him out?
"I can't make any promises..." He frowned. He'd come to like living with his uncle, having friends who cared about him, having a boyfriend who stuck by him through everything.
"Just come by and talk to him," Azula said, a tiny edge of impatience appearing in her voice. Zuko couldn't imagine that she particularly liked being their father's messenger, especially when it forced her to be civil with him. "You must be tired of this - living in a guest room in suburbia and working in a cafe? You're better than this, Zuzu. C'mon, let's go."
"I can't tonight." Zuko stood, brushing the wrinkles from his pants, and biting his tongue against answering her taunting insults against his current situation. "I have plans already."
"What?" It wasn't often that he saw Azula caught off guard but in that moment, her eyes widened and perfectly-plucked brow furrowed. "You must be joking. This is important!"
"I know. And if Father really does want me back, he'll understand. Right?"
She scowled and Zuko saw her hesitation to answer. He knew that Ozai wouldn't be pleased if she didn't achieve what he'd sent her out for. "What's so important that you'd put off your /family/ for it?" she demanded irritably.
"I have a study session with some of my school friends. He does still care about my education, doesn't he?"
Azula's red lips thinned and he knew he had her caught. And then she said, as brightly as his sister was able, "Of course. Well, tomorrow, then?"
"I'm free after school," Zuko confirmed, not quite as brightly.
"I'll have Ji stop by Uncle's house. Night, Zuzu!" She tossed open the door, followed by the jingle of the front door of the establishment. At her table, tea grew cold and cookies were forgotten.
And in the back room, Zuko leaned back against shelves of bottled tea leaves and paper napkins and wondered what the hell he thought he was doing.
Zuko was quiet as he re-tied the apron. He wanted to say something, anything. Even to ask if Iroh had known why Azula was there. But the words stuck in his throat and he knew it wasn't fair to worry Iroh with this until he'd figured out for himself the sincerity of his father's intentions.
The remainder of his shift passed in this sort of silence. It was a busy evening and the attention that the customers required was an unusual relief, keeping his mind off the issue at hand. At the end of the afternoon, the evening staff took over - Iroh was technically retired and only worked the tea shop himself a few days a week and had his hired staff take over until the early evening close time. Then if Zuko was working after school, he'd drive them both home for dinner. This particular drive home was a quiet one, Iroh clear in his intent not to pry into Zuko's business. When his car came to rest in the driveway though, the older man paused and gave Zuko's arm a gentle touch. "Nephew... I will not trouble you to ask you unpleasant questions. But I want you to know that if you need to talk to me about anything, no matter what it is, I am here."
The sensation of a sinking heart was unpleasant when coupled with an unsettled stomach and Zuko frowned against the wave of guilt that washed over him. "I know, Uncle... I- I really do appreciate that. Maybe... maybe tomorrow."
Iroh just nodded and offered him a reassuring smile. "How does orange chicken sound for dinner?"
"It sounds great, Uncle." The smile Zuko found, though small, was genuine.
After dinner, Sokka and Katara, Toph and Aang all arrived, toting books and paper and bottles of soda. Though they weren't all in the same grade, they'd discovered that the group study sessions encouraged all to tackle their schoolwork in a timely fashion. The younger kids found that having friends who had already taken the classes they were in was another benefit.
Zuko was just glad to be surrounded by his friends. Even when -or maybe especially when- they were distracted by a tossed ball of paper or a break for dessert courtesy of Iroh.
As the hours dwindled and the close of the evening drew near, Katara helped the two youngest members of the group with some math problems that were still relatively fresh in her mind from a year before. With a textbook in his lap, all comfortable and close on Iroh's couch, Sokka slid an arm around Zuko's shoulders, offering an affectionate squeeze at one. He looked up when he felt tension under his attentive fingers and searched for Zuko's gaze in silent question.
But Zuko just shook his head and offered a smile. He couldn't bother Sokka with this. Not yet. Not until he'd learned his father's intentions. Until then. "I'll tell you later," he murmured. "Don't worry."
Sokka frowned a little, concerned, but he nodded his understanding. And though he didn't ask any questions, it didn't stop him from getting close to rub Zuko's neck and shoulders while he turned pages with his free hand.
Zuko sighed quietly, grateful, as he leaned into the touch, his eyes on his book, and his mind on everything but. He didn't think he would be sleeping much that night.
The next day passed in a distracted haze and when the final bells rang, signaling the end of the school day, it was difficult to determine whether it had flown by or dragged on for ages. Sokka had soccer practice after school so he didn't have to make any excuses about where he'd be. He only had about fifteen minutes at home before a brief honk from outside alerted him of his ride's arrival.
The man who'd once been his driver was waiting when he came outside, held open the door for him as Zuko slid into the backseat. Zuko nodded his thanks. "Ji."
"Sir." Ji wouldn't quite meet his gaze as he held the door but he could detect a hint of guilt from his father's employee. It was easy to imagine that he'd been specifically ordered not to speak to Zuko.
The car ride was silent and uncomfortable for both of them and it was with a strange sense of almost relief that he saw his father's house -his old home- come into view. The sooner this was done and over with, the better.
When Ji dropped him off at the front of the estate (the driveway seemed longer than it had a few months ago) he let himself in carefully and found Azula working on homework in the front sitting room. She glanced up at him with a bored expression, considerably less interested in him than she had been the night before. "Father's in his office," she told him offhandedly.
"He's expecting me?" Even now the thought of walking into Ozai's office made some part of him quake.
Azula just nodded, turning her gaze back to her schoolwork. "Yes. Ji called to say you'd arrived."
Each step toward his father's office seemed to add a pound to the weight on his shoulders; by the time he stood outside the door, Zuko could hardly lift his feet. He felt in his pocket for his cell phone. He could call his Uncle or Sokka if he needed to. Ozai only wanted to talk. Zuko took a breath. He knocked.