Iroh has his suspicions. But he'll hold his tongue and let things run their course, no matter how tempted he is to play matchmaker.
(And it is rather tempting.)
Zuko visited Ba Sing Se for the weekend, his tenth trip since he became fire lord five months ago, leaving behind a string of broken hearts when he finally headed back to the Fire Nation early this morning. As Iroh flips the closed sign to open, he can't help but ponder the realization that his nephew doesn't realize just how many admirers he has.
/ / /
"A palanquin? Are you sure they'd let me ride in one of those?" Katara was mixing dough at the kitchen counter in the back of the shop on Saturday afternoon, deep in conversation with Zuko (Iroh busied himself with organizing a shelf in the corner, listening and occasionally peeking).
"As long as I give the order." Zuko reached out, thumb splayed on her cheekbone, and she went completely still as he gently swiped off a bit of flour that was on her face. He then spoke nonchalantly, turning back to the dough he was supposed to be rolling out, not flustered at all. And in Iroh's experience, Zuko wasn't great at hiding embarrassment. "You deserve a proper tour of the capital the next time you visit. It's beautiful."
Katara, for the first time since Iroh had known her, was blushing, her dark complexion taken over by a vivid red.
Hmm. It appeared that his nephew "had game," as those of the younger generation might say these days, although he didn't seem to realize it yet.
/ / /
Then, earlier this morning, Iroh witnessed a bit of a faux pas on Katara's part.
It was a beautiful Sunday, and Zuko was about to climb on Appa (Druk currently had a case of the sniffles) right outside the shop, ending his weekend trip, a hand splayed atop endless amounts of white fur, when Katara said, "Your hair kind of reminds me of Appa's fur." She sounded so innocent, helping Iroh brush out the bison's thick coat.
Zuko sifted his fingers through his hair self-consciously. "Oh. Uh, alright."
Katara's eyes widened. "No, no! I mean, it's nice like that. Cute, actually." Oh? Iroh liked where this was going. He tried not to appear too giddy, though.
And it was hard not to be giddy about something potentially sparking between these two. Now that he thought about it, it reminded him of an enemies-to-lovers sort of romance, like one of the entanglements he himself was involved in back in the day. Although perhaps he was getting a bit ahead of himself.
How would Zuko react to Katara's compliment? Iroh watched carefully.
Zuko took a deep breath. "Thank you." And then he . . . blushed, scarlet heating up the high cheekbones that he inherited from Ursa.
Well, it was a start.
/ / /
A few hours later, Katara is Iroh's first customer of the day, like she always is. She does a bit of diplomacy here and a bit of healing there throughout the rings, and although she hasn't come clean about it yet, Iroh is positive that she has something to do with this mysterious Painted Lady who stops crime in the lower ring at the dead of night, sapphire orbs piercing through a gauzy white veil, dual swords in hand.
But Iroh never brings it up. If this is how she chooses to cope with the aftermath of the war, with all of that vengeance and sorrow, then it isn't his place to interfere.
Zuko never used to like when it would rain out at sea, but that gentle yet lively clash of thunder makes Katara's eyes glow brighter, makes them stand out almost mystically in the darkest corner of the shop.
Iroh is grateful for this little spark of awe he senses in her when she cranes her neck to the side to catch just a glimpse of her element through the windows. Zuko promised to return to see them every weekend from now on. Maybe that's why her spirits are so high.
Iroh makes his way from the counter and sets a cup of tea down in front of her, cinnamon burning sweetly in the air. "Someone is awfully quiet today." She's quiet every day, a tad more than she used to be. But Iroh says it anyway, if only to keep her out of her head, to keep her thoughts from drifting to something dark, like they have before. "Anything on your mind?"
"Just Zuko." She looks up with a jerk, perhaps realizing how that sounds. Her head turns to him, and he's met with a stare of deepest blue. "He didn't really seem upset about ending things with Mai. He told me about their breakup on Friday."
Iroh thinks that perhaps he didn't hear right. "Zuko was dating Mai this entire time? And he never told me?"
Katara grins, sipping her tea. "I forgot I wasn't supposed to let that slip. He gets bashful about this kind of thing, you know. Can you promise not to tell?"
He winks. "Consider it a done deal." But Iroh's head is positively reeling. Is this why Zuko is a little more suave now? Because he finally has had experience with the ladies? "Well, I cannot imagine him ever getting along with Mai. I believe his type would be someone who balances him out, much in the same way water balances fire."
But Katara doesn't seem to get the hint. "I don't know how Zuko ever gets sick of your proverbs. They're really imaginative! So anyways, I guess this means you're happy about the news that Zuko's single again?"
"Most definitely. And, my dear Katara, how does this news make you feel?"
That simple question has left her gaping at him as though it's the strangest question she's ever been asked. For a moment, he believes that she won't have an answer.
But unexpectedly, a smile, soft but daring, tugs at her lips. "I'd say that it makes me feel a little more . . . emboldened."
Iroh doesn't ask what she means by that. He'll surely find out in time.
/ / /
And Iroh does end up finding out. A week later, in fact.
Zuko arrives a few hours before Katara gets off of work at the clinic, and this time his favorite ambassador, Sokka, has tagged along with him. Katara will be thrilled – Sokka hasn't been able to tag along on Zuko's visits for a month now, his hands full at the Fire Nation palace.
Zuko, nearly seventeen and pretending for just one weekend that he isn't the ruler of an entire nation, finally emerges from the back room of the Jasmine Dragon with Katara's birthday cake in his arms. It's evident that he's worked hard on it, his hair ruffled and a dab of pale pink frosting stuck to his cheek.
See, Iroh would have helped, and so would have Sokka, but Zuko insisted on doing it all himself for some (very obvious) reason.
Sokka, seated across from Iroh, glances up from his drawing (a rather questionable last-minute present for his sister) and smirks as Zuko sets his creation down on the small table. It's a charming thing indeed, tiny and perfectly circular with magenta roses lining the top border, leaving the rest of the dessert a smooth, light pink. "Is it just me, or is it shaped like a heart?" Sokka's teasing is always so subtle that Iroh highly doubts Zuko ever picks up on the subtext behind it. Right now, he must think his baking skills are being insulted.
"What? Of course it's not shaped like a –"
Ah, but maybe it's time to change the topic before their bickering causes a ruckus again, even if they are the only ones in the shop this time. "Nephew, it's a lovely cake. But I am surprised that you did not consider blue frosting instead, as that is her signature color." Then again, maybe he should have suggested red frosting, as Katara once let it slip to Iroh that red reminds her of Zuko. (She then blushed, of course, emphasizing that it reminded her of her friendship with Zuko.) "What made you go with pink?"
"Oh." It's hard not to laugh at the look on Zuko's face, but Iroh manages somehow. "Well, I just thought that, since Katara's a girl . . ."
Sokka snorts.
Leaning against the table, Zuko's gaze turns to the windows on the other side of the shop, gleaming gold in the afternoon sun. Whether he realizes it or not, he's usually infatuated with his reflection whenever the conversation turns to Katara.
His hand subconsciously goes to that scar, such a stark and furious red, touching it with only the tips of his fingers.
Sokka exchanges looks with Iroh, something concerned and sorrowful passing between them, and then he stands. "Hey," Sokka says, the teasing tone now giving way to something more heartfelt as he places his arm around his friend. "You look fine. Well, except for the frosting. Here, let me get a napkin."
"Sokka, I can do it myself –"
But Zuko's grumbling isn't enough to stop Sokka from wiping his face clean and then admiring his handiwork. "There. Good as new. But seriously, don't worry about my sister potentially not liking your face. It's a really enviable face. Uh, not that I envy it or anything. But you know what I mean, right?"
Zuko opens his mouth, but Sokka beats him to it.
"Nope, don't even try to argue that you don't feel that way about her. We can all see it. Instead, try to focus on the next move you're going to make."
Iroh hides his smile behind his mug.
"The next . . ." Zuko stares, speechless, an eyebrow furrowed in indignation. "Sokka. I don't know what you're talking about." He runs a hand through his mess of black hair, turning his face away, but it isn't enough to hide the scarlet blush running up his cheeks (oh goodness, more blushing?).
Now, Iroh could step in to give advice here, but that doesn't mean he should. Unlike Katara, Zuko will listen to a peer before he'll listen to any adult.
And Sokka is just the friend he needs for this particular dilemma.
"You know what you need to do?" Sokka continues, head tilting to the side to meet Zuko's eyes, a friendly smile on his lips. "Try flirting. It doesn't have to be anything too crazy."
Zuko doesn't protest, surprisingly. He considers Sokka for a moment.
And then he turns around and wanders off to the back room, mind somewhere else.
But Sokka's grinning now, taking his seat once more. "What do you think's going through his head right now?"
"Hmm. Only time will tell. I have never known Zuko to pass up an opportunity to argue."
/ / /
When Katara finally walks through the shop doors, wearing a simple blue dress and a dazzling layer of red on her lips, Zuko is the first one to greet her. And he doesn't do it by saying hello.
"Katara, you look beautiful." He gathers her into a loose hug. "Uh, more beautiful than Appa's fur."
Sokka isn't successful with stifling his cackling.
Katara smirks. "Thanks. It seems like we both had the same idea."
"We did?"
"Yeah. To go after what we want." Iroh figures that this statement must have gone over Zuko's head completely. Katara sways past Zuko, hand brushing his with yet another smirk.
/ / /
Katara blows out all fifteen of the candles that Zuko lit up, the four of them gathered around the table and filled with smiles.
"What did you wish for, Katara?" Iroh asks.
"For Zuko to keep flirting with me."