None of this fic could be accomplished without Dilletantism. I am so incredible grateful for them.
Cumulus and Nimbus
Chapter 2
Across the bay facing Katara's condo, an orange wooden cukoo clock chimed four times. Aang was already awake, piloting a loose to-do schedule that began long before sunrise.
Make Bumi's lunch.
He padded on silent feet to the kitchen. It was the brightest part of the small house with white walls and large windows above the sink that looked out into the dense island thickets. Bumi spent most of his free time bounding about the island and often, Aang would watch his son appear suddenly from the hedges, usually filthy and in search of dinner.
Out of context, this kitchen would seem to exist for a household of more than just a father and son—stacks of bowls teetered on the countertops and a litany of cooking pans hung from the ceiling rack. A rather shabby blue and brown dining table took the center, crowded with too many mis-matched chairs. Many of the walls were similarly grungy with dings and scrapes.
One dent that partially caved in a section of the yellow-painted plaster Aang had framed as a personal joke; Bumi had once attempted to make a soda bomb before realizing he wasn't outside. The thing had rocketed across the kitchen and terminated into the wall. Instead of fixing it, Aang decided to keep it as a reminder to his son of the days they'd spent cleaning up the aftermath. Each dent was a memory, each paint scrape had a story he couldn't bring himself to paint over.
Bumi Wake Up Attempt #1
The knowing father poked his head into the 7-year-old's room. It was fairly spartan but contained some unexpected items. A metal workbench with a worn wood top took up a large portion of the windowless wall. It was an incongruous presentation—a soldering iron and seemingly random shreds of bread board, a pile of animal-shaped action figures, a microscope, some tumbled sea glass, an awl. Above the bench hung pictures: the largest being a daguerreotype of the late mathematician (and Bumi's personal hero) Ramanujen, followed by several smaller photos of a toddling Bumi and his grandpa Gyatso, and some drawings that Bumi made himself of Appa and Momo.
On the other side lay the boy, his large feet tangled in blankets and sheets, his head half off the bed supplying a steady stream of drool to a well-established puddle next to some shoes on the floor. Leaning over the bed, Aang wedged his hand into a cluttered shelf of books to turn on Bumi's lamp. Anything more than a light on the first wake-up call usually resulted in more animal than child at the breakfast table, and so he backed out to allow the boy some time to adjust to the light.
Quick Meditation, Feed Dogs, Start Breakfast
Bumi Wake Up Attempt #2
Aang popped in now with a towel on his shoulder to find that his semi-conscious son had turned his light back off. He turned it back on again, gently nudging the covers off Bumi's face. "Good morning, buddy. First day of school!" he sang. Bumi opened one eye to regard his father. "Five more minutes?"
Aang nodded. "Sure. But no more than that, we need to be better about being on time this year. Let's not have the new office manager be on a first-name basis with us, 'kay?"
Get Dressed, Pack Up, Bumi Wake Up #3, Walk Dogs, Starting to Run Late
The end of the hall terminated into Aang's room where a low bed and tall bookshelves muted the otherwise colorful gallery walls keepsakes varying from framed crayon doodles to a scribbly math equation written on a restaurant napkin. The most notable frame was centered on the low dresser with a photo of Gyatso seated in meditation wearing mustard-colored robes. The modest altar also bore incense, an orange, a salt tray, and a shadow box with a wooden necklace.
Aang eased into khaki slacks and a bright blue button-down while whistling for Appa. He could hear the massive mutt panting down the hall before appearing at the door. "Appa can you wake Bumi up?" Aang murmured to the hairy dog. Appa gave a low groan of understanding and a few moments later came the sound of a frustrated Bumi as the fur monster parked over the child and proceeded with a slobbery kiss bath.
Late.
"Let's go Bum', c'mon" Aang said once more, foot tapping at the door. Now bouncing into his shoes with toast hanging out of his mouth, the boy tripped and banked off the wall. Aang sighed and ran a hand over his freshly shaven head as Bumi, backpack spilling off one arm, skittered past him and into the yard.
-0-0-0-
The motorbike creaked to halt just as the bell was ringing, not enough time to straighten Bumi's wild mane as he yanked off his helmet and all but tumbled out of the sidecar.
"You're in Piandao's class, Room 12. Make it a great day buddy and d—what're you doing, you need to—" Aang rambled over the engine as he handed his son his backpack. Instead of running off, Bumi ran around and awarded Aang with a tight hug. "Love you, Dad."
"I love you too, buddy." Aang said, returning the hug warmly. "Now, run!"
He lingered for some time after watching the tall 7-year-old hurtle through the doors, taking in his fellow last-minute parents. They tended to fall into groups, though not without exceptions:
First the odd-hours working parents dropping in at dawn for early care, clutching their steaming jugs of coffee and waving goodbye with red-rimmed eyes.
Normal working and stay-at-home parents jammed up the drive after the sun rose, but with plenty of time to spare.
Aang and Bumi tended to fall into the last category—the single-parent sprinters who tread water despite their best efforts. Sometimes doing it alone is insurmountable.
He thought back to the evening prior, when he locked eyes with a woman whom he suspected was an incoming parent. Even from across the room, her gaze had been so concentrated, it had brought his arms to gooseflesh. She was an enigma wrapped in a severe suit and armed with a posture that seemed to bend the air around her. Yet all her edges softened as she moved, misty hair ghosting occasionally over a calm smile and an attentive stare as she listened to Mai.
Kindness. Aang had decided. She looked kind, and he hoped to introduce himself. She didn't seem to be a fellow late runner, however, and so he revved his bike once more and made his way to City Hall.
-0-0-0-
On Ji looked up from her desk when he walked in, a chewed-up pen still in her mouth. Spirits, he's such a babe.
"Good morning, Aang!" she called out as he strode by with those long legs, helmet tucked under his arm. "Hey On Ji. How's it going?" he responded politely while ducking into his office. He picked back up on his mental list as he slung his jacket and bag down.
Emails, On Ji notes, Call Parks and Rec Again.
9:30-11 meeting, avoid Sokka until P/R sends their report over because he can't take "wait for an answer."
11:00-12 meeting with Zuko, budget approval for Conservation Fair.
12:00-1 work out.
1-3 Survey proposals to the budget office.
3:00-3:30 Go get Bumi
5:00-6 Zoom chat on public works close-outs
On Ji followed. "Parks and Rec finally faxed over those mitigation reports you asked for, I found them waiting when I got in. I guess someone over there was burning the midnight oil."
"Ugh. Thank the spirits…I was worried Sokka might eat me for breakfast today…" Aang muttered. A good friend and an even better city planner, Sokka was a cornerstone of Republic City's development. Unfortunately for Aang, he often found himself as Sokka's main roadblock on his construction plans.
"I heard something about Sokka and breakfast?" chimed a voice from the hallway. The man lumbered in without invitation, but Aang never minded this habit. He knew that Sokka's cynical and direct veneer was only a thin coat covering a truly compassionate person. He leaned over for a grasping handshake. "No breakfast here I'm afraid, but I have something better for you. Well, On Ji does; she did all the footwork. Thanks, by the way."
On Ji flushed with glee at Aang's gratitude and fumbled the reports into Sokka's hands, nearly dropping them to the floor. "Monkeyfeathers. Sorry. Let me get a clip for that…"
Sokka raised a quizzical brow at Aang, who was already preoccupied setting up his laptop as On Ji ducked out on anxious heels.
"How are you so dense?"
"Huh?" Aang asked densely, not looking up from his backpack.
Sokka rolled his eyes, leaning up against the desk. "It's so obvious she's into you. She's been hovering around you for ages. Why don't you ask her out?"
Aang's face contorted with antipathy. "Because I don't want to? Because I'm not looking? Because I'm not interested? Because I'm busy and don't have time to date? Because we work together and that never ends up in anything less than a trash fire? Do I need to keep going because I can—"
"Oh, so are we a trash fire now?" chimed a deadpan voice. Suki popped in behind Sokka, squeezing into the increasingly cramped office space. She came up below Sokka's shoulder, but both men knew as previous recipients of her wrath, the veteran was not one to be trifled with.
"No, not you guys!" Aang amended quickly, "you guys don't count, you're like two halves of the same person. Ridiculous, really…" Sokka was opening his mouth to respond again when yet another voice poked in.
"What's ridiculous? Are we having the meeting in here? Because I agree, that is ridiculous…" Zuko complained, wedging himself awkwardly into the space.
"Ah, the Mayor himself." Suki said with a sarcastic bow. "Perhaps it wouldn't be so ridiculous if you actually gave Aang one of the chairman offices instead of this glorified broom cupboard."
"I did. Mr. Humble Nomad over here won't take it."
"It's ostentatious." Aang complained, looking increasingly harassed as he scrambled to answer his ringing phone.
"This office is so small you can't even fit a big word like that in here" joked Sokka. "Hey Zuko, you wanna help me get this guy hooked up finally? Look at him. He needs to get la—"
"Sokka." Suki admonished, but Zuko sighed and shrugged, gazing at Aang who now sat at his desk on the phone, pinching the bridge of his nose and bouncing his leg anxiously. He didn't disagree, exactly. Then he smiled wryly as he remembered the night prior.
"You know I actually caught him checking someone out at back-to-school night?" the mayor informed Sokka, who looked genuinely surprised.
"Finally. Let's hope she's single."
Zuko laughed. "Yeah, she's single. The irony is it's your s—"
"Guys, I gotta go" Aang interrupted. "Bumi's in the principal's office. Again…"
Suki laughed and checked her watch. "Three hours into third grade? That must be a record."
"What about the meeting?" Sokka whined at Aang's retreating backside.
"Ugh…start without me, Sokka. I'll read the notes!"
-0-0-0-
Bumi shrank a bit in his chair when he heard his father enter the office. He sat in a chair facing Dr. Beifong, his legs dangling ruefully.
Toph Beifong was renowned for her teaching techniques, but like all brilliant people, her success came with several eccentricities. For starters, the principal was leaning back in her seat as though she were staring at the ceiling, her bare feet propped up on her desk. She was chewing gum and listening intently as another student next to Bumi chattered hurriedly.
"Hey Toph…to what do I owe the pleasure?" Aang sighed exhaustedly. He came to Bumi's side, leaning against the wall and fixing his son with an impassive gaze. Bumi suddenly found his shoes very interesting. The beleaguered father jolted with surprise as he realized there was another parent in the room, practically mirroring his posture from the shadows of the other wall.
It was that lady. The one with the pretty hair and kind eyes.
Her eyes looked anything but kind now. In place of the severe suit he'd seen her in before, her worn t-shirt and leggings were now at odds with his mental picture of her, though he inwardly decided that her casual look was even more breathtaking.
Hopping Hogmonkeys…he almost blurted. Then he realized her face was now puckered with anger.
"Oh." He said in surprise. "Hi, I'm Aang. Bumi's father…is this your-"
"I know who you are." Katara interrupted. The fact that she now got to see Aang in the daylight, dressed in what she assumed were work clothes, rather than the ratty gym wear from the evening prior made little difference now. Even if he did wear khakis in the manner of an Earth Kingdom renaissance sculpture.
Her daughter was covered in cherry pie filling and feeling ostracized. Katara wanted answers.
"Yes. This is going to go well." Toph lied, sitting up suddenly, and whirling the desk chair around. "Alright. The way I normally go about this is to allow the kids to speak their truths and resolve their conflict. Bear witness, and I'll let you know when you can talk." Katara's face flushed with anger, and the tell-tale huff of a parent about to explode sent Toph's hands up into a placating gesture.
"A little bit of trust goes a long way here. Aang knows. This isn't Bumi's first rodeo, is it bud?"
"It is not." Bumi agreed sullenly. Katara tutted and shifted her legs at this admission, and the act of it provoked a slight annoyance in Aang. He folded his arms coolly.
"Now. Kya was just sharing her truth. We're listening, Kya." Toph said, propping her feet back up.
Though Kya was small for her age, she moved as a force of nature (much like her mother). She'd also inherited her mother's dark, wavy hair, her appraising blue eyes, and her dormant volcano of a temper. As the young girl contemplated her words carefully before speaking, she sat with such a rigid posture that Aang doubted the child had ever slouched, even in infancy. It was difficult to see at first, but now that she was moving Aang noticed some remnant pie filling stuck in the crevices of her tightly plaited hair and down the back of her dark navy school uniform.
At this point though, it seemed young Kya had had enough for one day. Her high-pitched voice rang out into the office as she accused her counterpart. "I was on the playground at recess minding my own business and Bumi wasn't being safe, so I told the yard duty and she agreed, He Wasn't Being Safe and they tried to make him leave and he got mad at me even though HE WASN'T BEING SAFE, AND THEN HE THREW A PIE AT MY HEAD."
"I DID NOT."
"OH REALLY? WHY DO I HAVE PIE ON MY HEAD BUMI? WHY?"
"I TOLD YOU I WASN'T-"
"Alright. Enough." Toph interjected, "Bumi, let Kya finish."
Kya huffed angrily. She was not inclined to cry about things, but her face was raw with anger and no small amount of hurt. This school was so different to the others she'd become accustomed to. She preferred the rigors of a militant classroom and was stunned to discover very little of their work even occurred at a desk, but rather in optional, team-based "provocations" as bubbly Ms. Ty Lee had explained.
At recess, she'd inspected the play yard thoroughly and judged it as anarchy. Squaring away a wild Bumi had only been the first of many improvements she had planned for making the school more tolerable.
"I don't have anything else to say." Kya concluded in a sad tone.
"Bumi, speak your truth."
"First of all, there's nothing unsafe about scaling a structure when it has built-in hand-holds. It's literally intended for—"
"It's a Roof Access, Bumi." Kya interjected.
"Were you trying to get on the roof?!" Aang cut in, alarmed.
"Do I have to kick you people out? Bumi, continue." Toph mediated again, starting to rub her temples.
Bumi conveniently neglected to answer his father's question and continued. "Next thing I know, I'm being told that "climbing on the roof is a safety hazard" and "I don't need to constantly explore every possible boundary that binds me" and being forced to sit on the grass like some child." Aang bit back a laugh at the sheer irony, and Katara's sharp eye caught it. Her annoyance with his nonchalant demeanor was multiplying.
"—And if Kya hadn't gotten me banned from the playground, I wouldn't have miscalculated and hit her because I already had the trebuchet calibrated to catch the yard duty's head from a 16-meter vantage point."
Toph sighed deeply and pushed forward an object the parents hadn't noticed before. Aang picked it up, glancing down at the miniature projectile launcher, back to his son, then back to the projectile launcher.
"…why…how? Bumi, why do you have a tiny trebuchet?" was all Aang could choke out without laughing. It wasn't that the situation was without merit, but rather the absurdity of it all.
"That's your question? That's your question after everything you just heard?!" Katara finally burst out. She was standing now with fists balled at her sides, completely gob smacked and feeling like the only adult in the room. Toph sat and let it unwind. Here is where most administrators would intervene, she supposed. Instead, her mind was whirling with possibilities.
Two years ago when Aang turned up at the door with an unbridled 5-year-old who had been writing out a notebook full of infinite series, she'd pitied the single dad. Now she understood the pair better than most of her school families and recognized there were few better suited to guide a rule-questioner like Bumi than Aang.
But it was true the boy lacked structure, and the result was often expressed in the form of unfettered chaos. A miniature, pie-launching trebuchet, for example. It sparked an idea in her brain. With the right calibration, she'd be teaching four people a new lesson this year.
"—should be expelled frankly, for carrying weapons on his person!" Katara was shrieking when Toph came back into the conversation.
"That's not a weapon, it's a Robertson's Non-Slip #5 screwdriver." It was actually Kya correcting her mother, and Bumi peeked over at the girl with eyebrows that disappeared into his hair.
"Kids can't just carry around screwdrivers in their backpacks!" Katara sputtered.
"Who doesn't have a screwdriver in their backpack?" Kya and Bumi both said at the same time. They stared at each other.
"'Kay. Kids, go finish up in the hallway. Kya, establish boundaries for what behaviors make you feel uncomfortable and arbitrate them with Bumi. Bumi, apologize and recognize the importance of shared public space. And stop trying to get on the roof. I need to speak to the parents now."
After the kids exited, Aang panned around. "Toph, are you actually going to expel him?"
Toph braced for a predictable reaction. "Not today, no." Sure enough, Katara gasped with outrage.
"That's great. There are no repercussions to an actual safety issue that resulted in my daughter being attacked with pie filling!"
Aang leaned down into a seat, now examining the trebuchet in detail. It looked like Bumi had pieced it together with things he fished out of a garbage can (he had).
"I think you're overreacting a bit. Kids are washable." He remarked calmly.
"Oh, there's repercussions. First of all, Aang…" Toph said, causing the dad to finally look up. "it's time to face it head on: you need to buckle down on Bumi. He clearly needs more direction, and for you to direct him to a better outlet."
Before Aang could reply, Toph the Principal rounded on Katara. "And Kya—"
"—is the victim in this situation—" Katara reminded her.
"Kya" Toph repeated, trying to remain gentle, "is obviously going to need some support to thrive here. She doesn't seem very comfortable."
"I wonder why." Katara deadpanned icily.
"So!" Toph exclaimed proudly, clapping her hands together. She was quite proud of the solution she'd improvised. "That is why Bumi and Kya are, without further ado, the newest members of the Beifong Buddy Program. Bumi is now Kya's Big Brother, and I'll have their teachers send you the info on their required hours."
This time Aang and Katara agreed: "WHAT?!"