Prison overcrowding had always been a serious issue in the Fire Nation, but ever since Supreme Leader Comrade Katara had criminalized, well, just about everything, people were being thrown into the gulag more frequently than ever before. Look at a cannabis plant? Life sentence. Use the imperial system instead of metric? Life sentence. Mention the Cats 2019 movie? Life sentence, maybe execution. Give a retail employee a hard time? You don't even want to know the punishment for that.
The point was that with all the new inmates flooding into the prison, Ozai was getting a cellmate. He had to admit, he wouldn't mind the company, as all he could do in his solitary confinement was cry, tickle his pickle, and regret his life choices. Oh, and listen to Avatar Roku's ghost yell "rise 'n' shine, bitch boy" directly into his ear whenever he was just about to fall asleep.
The door to his cell swung open, and holding a blanket and a stuffed elk-tiger-fennec fox-Norwegian forest cat-bigfoot doll, in walked Ozai's favorite former palace guard.
"Steve!" Ozai cried out joyously. His heart fluttered as though he had a serious cardiovascular disease and needed immediate medical attention. But in a good way. "You are my new cellmate, yes?"
Steve's face lit up. "My lord! What a pleasant surprise! Yes, I am!" He dropped his blanket and stuffed animal (you think I'm typing out all that shit again?) and hugged his fire lord. Ozai's flushed red, and face felt as though it had been set ablaze, but not in a Zuko way. In a good way. He wrapped his arms around Steve in return, understanding vaguely that he was supposed to reciprocate the gesture.
"Steve, I must tell you something," he began. "I am quite relieved that you are the one with whom I must share this space. I greatly prefer your company to any of the other buffoons in this prison. You are my only source of joy in this bleak gulag. In fact…" He took a deep breath. His insides squirmed, like there were insects nesting inside them. But in a good way. "In fact, you are the only person who I might consider… my equal."
Steve's eyes shone with an emotion that was new to Ozai. A softness, a tenderness. Was this… what people called "love?" The love one person felt for another, and not the sort of lust he usually felt for power?
"I'm so honored," Steve breathed. He caressed Ozai's cheek. "You really mean it?"
"Steve, I would slaughter a thousand innocent civilians for you. I mean, I would do that anyway, but I would slaughter them in extra creative and cruel ways just to make you happy." He had the strangest urge — he wanted to lean forward and bite Steve's face. But in a tender way. In a good way.
Steve brushed a stray hair from his forehead and tucked it gently behind his ear. "Aw, you don't have to," he said. "That's so sweet."
"Now, my loyal servant and friend, would you like to mash our faces together?" Ozai suggested. He felt lightheaded and giddy, like he had lost too much blood on the battlefield and needed to see a medic as soon as possible lest he slowly bleed out and perish, suffering a death most slow and agonizing. But in a good way.
"Absolutely," Steve agreed.
Just as they were about to kiss, the door opened again, and a guard stepped in. "Warden says this is the wrong cell. Sorry, Steve, but your room is down the hall. This is your new cellmate, Mr. Ex-Fire Lord. She's in for buyin' weed off the black market."
"Steve!" Ozai cried as guards carted away his only solace in the world. Tears formed in the corner of his eyes. Woe unto him, so this was heartbreak!
"My love!" Steve wept in return, struggling against the guards.
Ozai's real new cellmate walked in, and his stomach practically dropped out of his anus. And definitely not in a good way.
He screeched. "Are you fucking serious? My ex-wife!?"