Uncle insisted on coming to Parents' Weekend, and Zuko wanted to die. He'd thought everything was pretty dumb and cheesy when he'd been a freshman - "Why do we have to do Parents' Weekend? We live together! Every weekend is Parents' Weekend!" - and being a university employee had not made the idea more appealing.

"I like to know what's going on in your life," Uncle answered when Zuko whined this year about how he really shouldn't have to do this, and couldn't they just work at the tea shop and then make dinner together like they'd done every weekend so far.

"You checked my history homework last night!" he protested. "Besides, I really don't see how much a tote bag and a badgermole plushie are going to be enlightening. I tell you everything." Uncle patted the badgermole on its fuzzy little head consolingly.

"Don't listen to him, Mushi. He's just cranky."

"Uncle!"

"Maybe we could skip some of the activities if you would take me to meet some of your friends?" Uncle looked at him sideways, like he thought Zuko might be hiding people from him. Zuko sighed.

"I don't have friends. You know that. If I did, I would've mentioned them, but like you said, I'm cranky. I'm literally a professional wet blanket - nobody wants to hang out with me." Uncle tutted and shook his head, steering Zuko by the shoulder towards a row of food vendors.

"That is not true. I enjoy spending time with you. And I am certain that your classmates would feel the same if you did not work so hard to push them away." Zuko made a noncommittal sound to pretend like he didn't fully disagree, and his uncle pretended that meant he'd think about it. Then they bought fried dough, and Uncle let them wander away from the festivities anyway.

Walking through campus, Zuko started to feel a little nagging guilt for shutting Uncle down. He knew the old man was just trying to make up for the absence of his actual parents, but he didn't need to try. Ever since Zuko's mother had left when he was ten, Uncle Iroh has been his real parent. Missing his father was still a reflex, but he'd been to enough therapy since turning eighteen that he knew that's all it was. The past couple years, their little family of two had been more than enough for him, full of so much more love and fun than he was used to. So when they passed by the turn for the freshman res halls, Zuko asked,

"Do you want a tour of the dorm?" Uncle's eyes twinkled when he smiled, but he didn't say anything. He nodded, and followed Zuko down the tree-lined path to the buildings.

He took Uncle up to his room, which he hadn't seen since they'd moved him into it for RA orientation. Not much had changed. His textbooks had arrived, their battered spines lined up neatly on the back of his desk, along with a few novels he'd borrowed from Uncle's collection on the off chance he had some free time. A sweatshirt with his the insignia of his high school in Caldera City was draped over the single chair, and the few family photos Zuko actually liked were framed and stuck to the wall: one of him and Uncle at Zuko's high school graduation, another had him and his mother on a park bench, and lastly a shot of him and Lu Ten as children beaming proudly in front of a sand castle. The trash was full of Extra Flamin' Fire Flakes bags and the bed wasn't made, but at least it wasn't embarrassingly messy.

"So, this is my room. As you can see, I haven't destroyed it yet." Uncle gave him a sidelong glance.

"You know, nephew, when I was your age, I got up to a lot more than having a messy bedroom," he said, then smiled conspiratorially, "Well -"

"No!" Zuko covered his ears before Uncle could try to hint at any of his own youthful indiscretions. "Just - No, we are not talking about this."

"I am just suggesting that maybe since you're no longer sharing a wall with your dear old uncle, you might -"

"Stop. Please, I'm begging you."

"- Have a party, nephew! What on earth did you think I was implying?" Uncle gave him an innocent look, but Zuko absolutely knew better and crossed his arms.

"I'm not doing that either."

"Suit yourself. Now, show me around some more. I want to see where you work!" Zuko groaned, but acquiesced, leading Uncle down the hallway.

"So, I'm the RA for everyone on this floor," he explained in front of the elevator, gesturing to the branching hallways. "It's all guys, so as you can imagine, they're all completely disgusting and helpless." Iroh chuckled, and stepped onto the rickety elevator beside Zuko, who punched the button for the ground floor.

"Yes, I do know a thing or two about that," Uncle ribbed him, smiling affectionately.

Zuko knew the words were meant as gentle teasing, but he still felt a small pang in his chest. It wasn't like he hadn't had plenty of reason to be a difficult teenager, but it didn't make him any less regretful about how he'd behaved when he'd first been sent to live with Uncle Iroh when he was sixteen.

When things finally came to a head between Zuko and his father, his shame and Ozai's disappointment combusting when Zuko finally decided to stand up for himself - Uncle Iroh had been the one to pick up the pieces. A conversation about Zuko's college plans had ended in Zuko telling his father just exactly what he thought of taking up the family business, and ultimately a fist fight broke out between them at a family barbecue. Uncle Iroh had been the one to pry Zuko off his father, and threaten to call the police and child services. After a long, tense conversation in Ozai's office, he'd convinced his brother to send Zuko to finish high school under his care, working at the Jasmine Dragon.

Zuko hadn't spoken to his father since, but he'd been so angry and anxious from years of mistreatment, and entitled from growing up surrounded by so much wealth and power, that it had been a rough transition to Iroh's simple existence. A lot of those feelings got taken out on Iroh, but just as he had since the day Zuko got his scar, Uncle was patient with him. He was firm about his rules and immovable in the values he wanted to instill in Zuko, but he was always loving.

"I'm sorry I was such a nightmare," Zuko said quietly, as the elevator started to move.

"You were a child, and you were in pain," Uncle said, for the hundredth time. It seemed that no matter how far he thought he'd come, he still couldn't shake the guilt of those hard months. "It was not your job to react well. You needed to be angry, and then you needed to learn how to move forward." The elevator doors dinged open into the common room. "And you have!" Uncle said cheerily, stepping off the elevator and gesturing to the room as though it were some vast new horizon. In reality, it was a basement with no windows, fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling, and some washing machines and mailboxes tucked in one corner, worn couches arranged in a U around a television. Through a doorway, there was another area with a few independent study rooms, but all said, it wasn't much.

"I don't think I realized that progress would smell so damp," Zuko said, joining his uncle and wrinkling his nose at the ever-present scent of the common room. Sometimes it smelled like dryer sheets and warm cloth, but most of the time it just smelled like basement and wet laundry and stress sweat. Uncle laughed, and patted Zuko on the back.

"No, perhaps not. But destiny is a funny thing, nephew, and I have a strong feeling that this is exactly where you were meant to be."

"I think that almost counts as an insult, but anyway, this is it. My new home away from home." He continued the tour, leading his uncle around the room. "These are the washing machines," he said, gesturing to where there was a pile of sopping wet laundry sitting in a pool of water on the folding table while all the machines churned away. Beside it was a pile of dried laundry in danger of listing sideways into the puddle. "Which is why I'm definitely bringing all my laundry home for Saturday dinners. And then there are the mailboxes where my pizza coupons will come in," he gestured to the wall of locked cubbies. "Study rooms that nobody will ever actually study in over there," he pointed into the other room. "And here's where I buy way too many Fire Flakes," he said, turning the corner to the vending machine nook.

Uncle made a curious sound, and Zuko turned to look at the machine. Which was full, but definitely not with snacks. Instead, random odds and ends were tucked into the coils - rubber turtleducks, and tubs of sparkly putty, fake flowers and snow globes. Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. Of course.