Archive of Our Own ^beta

When they find the child in the snow he’s very still. 

Both Bato and Hakoda know this is a terrible sign, that moving past the shivering stage brings him closer to death than not. 

Hakoda tosses his spear and their bag of catch onto the ground and drops to his knees, grimly and efficiently stripping off the outer snow-damp layers of the child’s clothing. A scroll drops out of the coat, and Bato picks it up. 

The child is tiny and pale. Paler than anyone living in the Southern Water Tribe, with hair as black as ink. Hakoda tucks him into his own coat and against his chest, wrapping himself around the boy so completely that he looks nothing more than a lump. 

Bato opens the scroll. The message inside is short and the lines are wobbly like the hand that wrote them was shaking the whole time. 

Please take care of my son. His name is Zuko. I love him with all of my heart.

“Abandoned,” he says to Hakoda. 

Hakoda’s brows furrow but he nods and stumbles to his feet. Bato gathers the fallen supplies and they run back to the village as fast as they can in the oncoming storm. 

The first thing Bato does when they get to his tent is start the fire. The second thing he does is strip down to his underclothes. Hakoda is still wrestling the boy’s damp shirt off as Bato approaches with heavy furs. When the shirt finally comes off, they both freeze. There are bruises littering the tiny arms, going all the way across his torso. The note makes a little more sense. 

Bato huffs, wraps the furs around his shoulders and beckons to Hakoda. Hakoda hands the child over and Bato hugs him close, closing the furs around them and settling down near the fire. 

His heart beats like a sprint as he tries to work out whether or not he can feel puffs of breath against his skin or not. Every time he thinks he can feel one, it feels like too long before the next. And they’re so weak. 

Hakoda boils water, and Bato opens the furs long enough for him to press warm cloths to the boy’s chest and stomach. 

They wait. 

Hakoda reads the scroll over and over again like it might suddenly spill forth hidden secrets. 

Bato hugs the cold body closer and closes his eyes. Live, he thinks as hard as he can, live. 

The trembling starts. 

All the pent up nerves expel out of Bato’s body in the form of a laugh. He laughs, loud and clear, surprised and unable to stop. Hakoda startles and scrambles closer, reaching into the furs to press a hand to the child. Then he laughs too, wild and a little crazy, and presses his forehead to Bato’s. 

They must have looked a little insane to anyone who might’ve passed by, the two of them in various states of undress, hysterical. 

The child survives the night and Bato allows himself to think of him as Zuko. 

Zuko stays in Bato’s tent because Hakoda has Sokka and Katara in his. When he blinks open his eyes, they are a bright, clear gold like nothing Bato has seen before. They glitter like tiny gems and are as sharp as a tiger seals’. 

“Hi kid,” Bato says. He stays in his seat by the fire and doesn’t move closer. 

Zuko blinks from under his pile of furs. A small hand comes up to rub at his eyes. 

“Mama?” he asks. 

“Nope. Your mom’s not here. You’re in the Southern Water Tribe.” 

In retrospect, this probably isn’t the best way to ease the boy into his situation. Oh well, Bato’s never been accused of having much tact. 

Zuko’s lip begins to tremble, and then he begins to wail. 

“Oh damn,” Bato mutters, “oh fuck.” Then he catches himself. “Wait that’s a bad word, pretend you didn’t hear that.” 

Zuko wails louder. 

When Hakoda rushes into the tent, it’s to the scene of Bato desperately dabbing at the kid’s face with a cloth while also trying to maintain as much distance between himself and the crying as is humanly possible. 

“What the hell Bato,” he says. 

“Language!” Bato yelps. 

“What did you do?” 

“I don’t know! Help me! What am I supposed do, I am a confirmed bachelor, I have no idea how children work!” 

Hakoda sighs, long suffering like Bato is an idiot. Asshole. 

“Give him a hug.” 

Bato looks warily at the dripping mess before him and gingerly holds his arms out. Zuko launches himself at him and Bato catches him with an “oof!” Chubby arms come to wrap around his neck and Bato pats at his back like a particularly fragile drum. 

He looks up to Hakoda for more guidance but Hakoda is too busy wheezing with laughter into his elbow. What a bastard. 

“There there,” he says nonsensically. Strangely, this seems to calm Zuko down, reducing him from wailing to sniffling. 

Finally, he removes his red and blotchy face from Bato’s neck. Bato gingerly dabs at the snot running down his chin. 

“Do you…” he hesitates, “want a...warm bath?” 

Everyone likes warm baths right?

Zuko nods. Bato sighs with relief. He stands with Zuko still in his arms and makes his way over to his wooden tub. Hakoda helps him heat water on the fire. As he leaves, he gives Bato a thumbs up and a wide grin.

Bato covers Zuko’s eyes so he can flip his best friend off. 

The elders call a village meeting and Bato bundles Zuko up in some of Sokka’s hand-me-downs. Instead of walking, Zuko reaches both arms up straight into the air. Bato stares at him. Zuko stares back. 

“Um.” Bato says, “Is this some strange Fire Nation thing?”

“Up,” Zuko insists. 

Hakoda snorts from where he’s waiting at the open tent flaps. 

“He wants you to carry him,” he says. 

Oh. Okay. Bato hoists the kid up and Zuko burrows his way into Bato’s neck. 

He stays that way for the entirety of the meeting, dozing off almost immediately.  

No one seems to know what to do with a Fire Nation kid. There’s a lot of talking in circles, a lot of speculation, but no real progress made until Kanna holds up her hand. Everyone quiets and looks to her. 

“What we do know for certain is that this child has nowhere to go. So he must stay. What do you have to say on the matter, Chief Hakoda?” 

Hakoda waits a moment before he speaks. He calls it ‘gravitas’. Bato calls it ‘bullshit’. 

“It doesn’t matter where the child is from, someone has obviously brought him all the way out here because we were the last possible hope. Someone trusted us with him. He belongs to this village now.” He nods to the village schoolteacher. 

“Amka, do you mind taking him in?” 

“Sure Chief,” Amka says, always willing to tuck another chick under her wing.  

Bato clears his throat and gently shakes Zuko awake. 

“Hey buddy,” he says, “can you wake up for me?” Zuko blinks his eyes blearily and looks out at the gathered crowd for the first time. They stare back, fascinated. 

“Hi Zuko,” Amka says, “my name is Amka. I teach the children in this village. You’re going to come stay with me, is that okay?” 

Bato tries to place Zuko down. Zuko refuses to let go. Bato bends down and plants Zuko’s feet firmly on the ground and tries to push him forward and Zuko scrabbles at his shoulders. For something so puny he sure has a good grip. He tries to disconnect Zuko’s arms but gets a frantic flurry of kicks in the stomach for his efforts.

Bato ends up where he started, with Zuko half buried into his neck. 

The crowd is silent, staring at Bato now too. 

All of a sudden, Taqtu roars with laughter. 

“He’s imprinted on you!” Taqtu howls, “Like a little badger goose!” 

This sets off the rest of the group, and oh great, now everyone is laughing at Bato’s expense. 

“Looks like he’s yours,” Amka grins. 

Bato makes pleading ‘help me’ eyes at Hakoda, his best friend, the one who always has his back, his brother in arms. 

“I am a confirmed bachelor,” he hisses while covering Zuko’s ears, “I live a freewheeling bachelor lifestyle. You’re the single dad, not me.” 

Hm, maybe that last jab was a little out of line. He hopes Hakoda isn’t about to be all disappointed and lecture him. Hakoda puts his hand on his shoulder and looks him dead in the eyes. He braces for impact. 

Hakoda grins like the devil. 

“Not anymore.”

Bastard. 

All things considered, Zuko is a pretty quiet kid. He refuses to let Bato out of his sight and hides behind his legs like a little shadow. 

Sokka pokes at him with wide eyes. 

“Hi,” Sokka says, “you look different. Want to be friends?” Zuko shrinks into Bato. 

“Sokka,” Hakoda warns, “don’t make him feel bad.” 

“I’m not!” Sokka is indignant. “I like his eyes, they do look different!” 

Bato wraps his arm around Zuko. “That’s true, he does have nice eyes. Bet he likes the same games as you.”

Sokka lights up. “Want to go throw rocks off the hill?” 

Bato side eyes Hakoda. Your son is an idiot, he tries to say with his face. 

“Yes,” Zuko whispers. Sokka grabs his hand and they totter off. 

Now who's the idiot, Hakoda face-speaks back at him, smug. 

Nights are not so easy. At night, Zuko cries for his mother and Bato’s heart breaks. He doesn’t know what to do, can only hug Zuko close and stroke his hair until he cries himself out and falls asleep. 

He expected this to be hard, but not hard in a way that hurts. 

“You’re in luck,” Bato says, “because I happen to be the greatest fisherman in the entire Southern Water Tribe.” 

Zuko looks up at him with wide, trusting eyes. 

They’re seated in Bato’s canoe, floating out in the calm waters. Zuko had gripped the side the entire way out, leaning over to stare into the clear water with curious eyes. Bato had let him drag his fingers through the icy waters, which had delighted him. 

“Watch carefully now,” Bato says. He grips a spear and waits for the right moment and - there! With a loud splash, his deadly spear pierces the water and pulls out… nothing. 

“Shit.” Thank the spirits that Hakoda isn’t here to see that. Small mercies. 

“Language,” Zuko parrots at him. 

“Oh fuck you’re right,” Bato says. “Wait no.” He glances at Zuko. “I’ll work on that.” 

Zuko nods. Bato wonders if he even knows what’s going on. 

“Okay that was a practice round, now I’m doing the real thing.” He waits for the water to settle again. He glares into the water. He is the best fisherman in the whole damn place, not stupid Hakoda, Bato has finness, he has - there! 

This time when he pulls his spear out of the water there is a large shimmering, wiggling trout at the end of it. He grins and turns to Zuko, who is-  

Zuko is staring at him in awe. He’s looking at Bato like Bato is a hero, like he’s conquered an entire mountain instead of just catching one measly fish. 

“Wow,” Zuko breathes. 

Bato feels like maybe he could conquer an entire mountain. 

On the walk back Bato lets Zuko carry the bucket with the fish in it. It’s a little too heavy for him but he seems happy enough, waddling along with it hanging in front of him. 

“I’ll cook it for dinner,” Bato tells him, “I’m a great cook, some might say the greatest cook in fact, you’re going to love this fish.” He’s so busy thinking of the best way to cook the fish that he misses it when Zuko stumbles and overbalances with the bucket. 

He falls with a squeak and the fish spills out onto the snow. 

“Whoa!” Bato shouts, and reaches down to grab Zuko’s arm to haul him up. Except Zuko yanks his arm back and scrambles backwards with a cry. He huddles into the smallest ball Bato’s ever seen in his life and shakes. 

Oh no. 

Bato places his gear on the ground and crouches down. 

“Buddy?” He asks quietly. 

“‘Spilled” Zuko whispers, voice trembling like a leaf in the wind.

“Hey,” Bato says, “Zuko it’s okay. It was an accident, it’s just a fish. It’s okay. I didn’t mean to grab you so hard, I’m sorry if I scared you, I was just trying to help you up.” 

Zuko looks up, eyes watery. Bato opens his arms. Zuko slowly unfurls and crawls into them. 

Bato sits in the snow for a long time, rocking Zuko back and forth in his arms, cradling him close. 

“I won’t hit you,” he swears, “I’ll never hurt you no matter what you do, I promise.”

Zuko’s small arms wrap around his neck. 

That night Zuko’s on the edge of sleep when Bato gets under their shared blankets. He reaches for Bato automatically and burrows close with a small contented sigh. 

Bato can’t imagine ever breaking his promise. 

Bato’s life shifts to accommodate Zuko. He doesn’t want to be a guardian but if the spirits are forcing him into it, he’s going to at least do his damndest not to completely fuck it up. 

And to be honest, Zuko’s an all right kid. Sure, Bato thinks a little bit more about adding vegetables to his meals now, but when he walks through the village he actually gets more attention, not less. People bend down to coo at Zuko and ruffle his hair, and they tell Bato how handsome responsibility looks on him. 

This proves to be true in the neighboring villages too. He feels the considering eyes on him, catches a handful of winks as he walks past. 

“Why didn’t you tell me,” Bato accuses Hakoda. 

“Tell you what.” Hakoda is trying to brush Katara’s hair while she squirms and complains. 

“That single dads pull game.” 

Hakoda throws him a judgy look. “I don’t know, maybe because I’m a little busy trying to keep track of two living children to worry about pulling game . Grow up Bato.” 

“That’s uncalled for, I am grown. Maybe I’m just better at parenting, did you ever think about that?”  

“You’ve been parenting for one single year.” 

“Some of us just have a natural talent for it.” 

More side eye from Hakoda. Bato wonders if eyeballs have muscles, and if Hakoda is working his out. Does Hakoda have stronger eyeballs than him? 

“Zuko,” Hakoda calls through the flap of the tent.

Zuko’s head pops in. 

“When was the last time Bato forgot you somewhere?” 

“This morning,” Zuko pipes back dutifully, “he forgot me at the woodpile.”

Hakoda is a smug, smug bastard. Bato hopes his face gets stuck that way because it makes his chin look ugly. 

“Can Sokka and I go play by the inlet?”

“Yeah,” Bato says. It’s good for Zuko to spend more time apart from him. “The water’s frozen so don’t slip and crack your head open because if you do I’ll make fun of you.” 

“Kay,” Zuko says. 

“Can I go?” Katara cries, tired of being subjected to her father’s hairdressing. 

They hear Sokka protest loudly outside. “No girls!” 

“Yes,” Zuko says simply and holds out his hand for her. Katara squeals with delight and rushes to cling on. Bato listens to their squabbling as it grows farther away before turning back to Hakoda. 

“Stop turning my son against me.”

“Stop forgetting your son in various locations, it shouldn’t be that hard to remember a live child.”

Bato beats a hasty but graceful retreat. 

“Wanna drink?”

“Yes,” Hakoda answers, pulling out a flask. Good old reliable Hakoda, always in sync with Bato’s good ideas. 

Sometimes it’s nice without the kids around. 

They’re three flasks in and Hakoda’s face is turning red as a rooster owl’s and Bato’s only doing marginally better. Or maybe he’s doing worse, who knows. 

“No,” Hakoda is saying, “you have to attach the clip rig to the back of the launcher , the back is what’s going to give it more distance on the launch so it goes, it goes you know,” but Hakoda has waved his hands too hards and he falls backwards with an “ompf.” 

“So it goes WHAM,” Bato supplies, wavering while trying to look at Hakoda’s face from his new angle. 

“Yes!” Hakoda shouts, “Wham! And then the shit will really fly. Like a beautiful, like a graceful sea hawk, spreading stinky arcs of doom.” 

Bato snickers and flops over so they can be on the same eye level again. 

“We should really build it. I’d love to see Taqtu angrily cleaning polar poop off his tent.” 

Hakoda laughs, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Stupid Taqtu.” 

Bato’s head lolls to the side. His tongue gets stuck to the roof of his mouth. There’s something he wants to voice, this feeling inside of him, but he can’t quite grasp what it is. 

“Why’d we stop pulling pranks?” Bato asks. 

“Well...we haven’t had time to. We have kids now.” 

It’s loss, Bato thinks. The feeling is loss. Ah. That’s a little bit sad. 

Hakoda turns onto his side to face Bato. 

“Hey Bato?” 

He looks at Bato and Bato looks back. There are little lines at the corners of Hakoda’s eyes that weren’t there before. They’re not deep and they’re not long, but they’re there. Tiny little branches. When did they get there? Did they creep out gradually, growing while Bato wasn’t paying attention? Or did Hakoda just wake up one day and they’d just settled in and taken up residence overnight? 

“D’you miss it?” He blurts out. He wonders if he should specify what, exactly. He’s not sure he even can. 

Hakoda looks thoughtful. That’s good then. He’s always known, Hakoda, exactly what Bato means without Bato needing to say. 

Here’s the thing: 

Hakoda has always been two steps ahead, charging forward and dragging Bato along without regard for whether or not Bato is ready to be dragged. The only direction Hakoda knows how to look is frontwards. 

Here’s the other thing: 

Bato is never ready. He’s always taking one last glance behind. 

“Sure,” Hakoda says, “but isn’t this worth it?”

Bato turns onto his back, staring up at the canvas. When he blinks, the shades of tans sway into each other. He can hear each of Hakoda’s inhales deep in his chest. Bato opens his mouth like he’s going to talk even though he has no words prepared and - 

“DAD!” Katara shrieks, throwing open the tent flaps. 

Bato and Hakoda jerk up into half sitting positions, wide eyed and shocked into alertness. 

“Hurry!” Katara cries, “You have to come, hurry!” 

“What’s going on?” Hakoda asks, already halfway onto his feet, reaching out. 

“Zuko’s fallen through the ice!” 

“Bato!” Hakoda barks at him, and he starts, realizing that he hasn’t moved. Crap. How many seconds did he just waste staring and not-moving like a moron? 

He scrambles clumsily after Hakoda who is already being pulled out of the tent by a frantic Katara. Fuck, why did they drink so much?

“The ice cracked, he fell in,” she’s gasping as she runs through the calf-high snow. “Sokka got his hand and he’s trying to keep him, to keep, but he’s too scared to move!” 

Everyone in the village knows that the first minutes after falling through the ice are crucial. Much longer and the muscles will become too weak, too frozen to move. The shock could send a person into hyperventilation. If you slip under the water and drift away from the opening…

Bato doesn’t know how long Zuko’s been in the water. 

When he sees the blue of Sokka’s coat laid out on the ground, he starts sprinting. 

“Hold on Zuko,” Sokka is saying, “hold on, Uncle Bato’s here okay? Stay up okay?” 

Sokka is stretched out on his stomach, right arm extended long to grasp Zuko’s hand. Zuko is struggling, kicking out as best he can, but he’s weighed down by his heavy clothes. He keeps dipping below the water, coming up sputtering, gasping. 

Bato skids to his knees. 

“I’m here Zuko,” he gasps. “Sokka, can you hold on?” 

“He’s slipping,” Sokka says, teeth gritted. 

“Just a little longer,” Bato says. 

He splays out onto his front and pushes himself forward, sliding across the ice. His coat scratches past the grooves. The ice is hard. As he gets closer, he sees Zuko’s pale pale face, his lips purple, bobbing in and out of view. Everytime he comes back up, his eyes search for Bato. 

Bato reaches out and grabs his arm. 

“Okay Sokka, let go.” 

He hears Sokka scramble back behind him. He hears the soft thump of Hakoda dropping to his knees, and then strong hands grip his ankles and pull. 

“Wait,” Bato grunts. He can’t get Zuko onto the ice. He’s stuck at the edge, his body too far below the water. If Hakoda pulls any harder he’ll lose his grip. 

“Try and kick harder for me,” he says, “I need you to float onto your stomach okay?” 

Hakoda tugs again. Bato loses his grip. 

“Stop!” he shouts. 

Zuko flails, and he grabs on again. 

“Kick Zuko,” Bato pleads, “come on, you can do it.” 

But Bato can see Zuko tiring, every breath a gasp, his eyelids fluttering. 

Bato pulls again, muscles straining.

When Bato was younger, he and Hakoda would arm wrestle every morning, vying for the day when one of them would finally be able to prove their strength over the other. It never happened, they eventually just gave up. But for some reason, this is the memory that pops up in his head - his arm, giving everything he had, and just not moving. Suspended in motion. 

He just needs to get him over the edge, he just needs to get him high enough…

But then suddenly, movement. 

It’s not Bato that moves, it’s not Zuko. It’s the water itself, an entire bubble of it, rising above the surface of the ice and wobbling its way over before crashing out of form again, leaving Zuko sprawled on top of Bato. 

“Pull!” Bato cries, and Hakoda gives a mighty yank, and then they’re on land again, Zuko shivering up a storm in his arms. 

Bato tugs at Zuko’s wet clothing, throwing his heavy fur coat to the ground. Hakoda hands him his own, and Bato draps it around Zuko’s shoulders, wrapping him in it tight. Zuko is crying now. 

“Dad,” he warbles, “Dad!” 

“I’ve got you,” Bato replies, “you’re okay, I have you.” 

He hoists Zuko up, heavier than he used to be, and turns to Hakoda. 

“What,” he says, “was that?” 

Hakoda looks back at him, eyes wide and stunned silent. He turns slowly and raises an arm to point right at Katara. Katara, who is staring down at her hands with wonder. 

“Okay,” Bato sighs. “Everybody back to the village.” 

When he gets back to their tent, Bato helps Zuko strip off all his wet clothes and bundles him into every fur they own. He lets Zuko sniffle his way through his tears. 

“Warm bath?” he asks Zuko once he’s done. Zuko nods. 

Even later, once Bato’s tucked him into bed, Sokka appears. 

“I brought Zuko’s coat,” he says hopefully. 

“You can come in,” Bato says. 

Sokka dashes inside, handing the coat to Bato before flopping on the bed next to Zuko.

“Katara’s a waterbender,” he announces. 

“Oh,” Zuko says, “that’s cool.”

“Are you still cold?” Sokka asks him.

“No.” 

“Okay that’s good. Want to walk to school together tomorrow?” 

“Yes.” 

Later still, Bato lies in his bedroll and stares up at the canvas. It’s dark and quiet, and the sounds of night filter in. Sleep refuses to come. 

The rustle of furs. 

“Dad?” Zuko murmurs. 

“Yeah kid?” 

“Can I come sleep next to you?” 

“Yeah.” 

Bato reaches over and flips up the blankets. Zuko crawls inside and tucks up next to him, sleepily snuggling his way into Bato’s side. 

“... y’can’t make fun of me t’mrrw. I didn’t crack my head open on the ice, I fell through it.” 

“Yeah okay.” 

Zuko hums, satisfied. Slowly, his breaths taper off into sleep. 

Bato concentrates on the warmth of him, of the feeling of him living, sleeping. He closes his eyes. 

Zuko grows from an adorable little boy into a striking young teenager. His hair is dark and silky, his eyes are sharp and glint in the light. The soft lines of his youth are beginning to blend into elegance. 

This is all well and good, except for the fact that it makes Bato’s life very fucking difficult. 

Case in point: 

Sokka sits on his knees before him. Bato has his arms crossed and one very unimpressed eyebrow raised. 

Sokka swallows. 

“Uncle Bato,” he stammers, “I would like your permission to-” 

“No.” Bato says. 

“...I would like your permission to-” 

“No.” 

“Would you let me just-”

“Nope.”

“You don’t even know what I’m asking!” 

“Yes I do, and the answer is no. You’re a hundred years too early, you little brat.” 

Sokka glowers at him and throws his hands up. 

“Ugh! ” he says, with feeling, before stomping out of Bato’s tent. 

Two minutes later, Hakoda shoulders his way into Bato’s tent. 

“Why is Sokka sulking.” 

“Your son,” Bato sniffs, “is trying to make moves on mine.” 

“Okay and?” Hakoda asks, “are you surprised or something? We all saw this coming.” 

“I will not allow it.” 

“And whyever not, idiot?” 

Bato points one accusing finger at Hakoda’s face. 

“Your son is a bad influence on mine.” 

“What,” Hakoda scoffs, “no he’s not. My son is a perfect gentleman.” 

Bato narrows his eyes. “Last week I saw him stick a live eel trout down his pants on a dare.” 

“My son is a perfectly average boy,” Hakoda amends. 

“I will not allow it!” Bato slams his hands down onto the table. 

Hakoda rolls his eyes, the jerk. 

“You not allowing it is not going to stop them from having feelings for each other.” 

“No boys for Zuko until he’s thirty,” Bato hisses. 

Hakoda laughs. “You’re a way more annoying father than I thought you’d be.” 

“I didn’t want to be a father in the first place! You forced me!”

Bato kicks him in the shin. Hakoda retaliates by locking him in a chokehold. Bato punches at his stomach and they roll across the floor, wrestling and swearing. 

This is how Zuko finds them. 

“Dad, Uncle Hakoda,” he greets. 

“Zuko,” Hakoda pants, grinding Bato’s face into the ground, “did you know that your father is an idiot?” 

“Yes,” Zuko says, bored. Bato gasps, outraged. “But please try not to kill him Uncle Hakoda because he’s cooking me dinner.” 

“Go away you little traitor, be somewhere else if you’re just going to stand there and help Hakoda insult me! You’re so much less cute than when you were younger. You’ve changed! Disowned, you're disowned!” 

Hakoda cackles and Bato takes the opportunity to roll over on top of him, grinning triumphantly. 

“Oof” Hakoda grunts. 

“By the way,” Zuko says, “the Northern Water Tribe has arrived.” 

“Oh shit,” Bato says. They scramble apart and try to make themselves presentable. “Why didn’t you lead with that?” 

“Language,” Zuko drawls. 

“Ah fuck,” Bato sighs. 

Every two years the Northern and Southern Water Tribes make an effort to visit one another. It’s a lot more pomp and ceremony that Bato prefers. He doesn’t even like them all that much. A bit pretentious, that lot. Two years ago Bato had weaseled his way out of going North when Zuko had come down with a cold that was “very serious Hakoda, can’t you see the boy is at death’s door, he can’t possibly travel and he can’t possibly be without his loving father.” 

Hakoda couldn’t call his bluff in front of the village without looking like an asshole, so the only choice he had left was to very discreetly step very hard on Bato’s foot. It had hobbled Bato for a week but it was worth it. 

This time, as the host tribe, there is no such escape for Bato. 

“Chief Hakoda, it’s good to see you again,” Arnook greets. 

Bato grins as smarmily as he can. “Is it good to see me too, Chief Arnook?” 

Arnook grimaces in a very subtle way, like maybe he stepped on a very tiny shard of wood and now it is wedged most inconveniently between two of his toes. He’s always been a classy guy, that Arnook. 

“Bato...always a pleasure. We certainly...missed you during the last visit. How unfortunate that you couldn’t join the visiting party.” 

“It was my loss,” Bato assures him, “I’ve spent every day of the past four years crying about it. Just ask Hakoda.” 

“Ah.” Arnook doesn’t bother to look the slightest bit convinced. How rude. Oops, Hakoda is starting to get that constipated look he gets when he needs to punch Bato but cannot. 

“We are always happy to have you here, Chief Arnook. Please treat our village as your home during your stay.” Hakoda says. 

Chief Arnook sweeps his eyes around the tents that line the paths. The boy guard next to Arnook coughs. 

Bato bares his teeth. “It’s not a pretty palace but we do just fine here.” 

“Oh look,” Hakoda says desperately, “there’s Katara now. Katara!” Katara walks over. “You remember Katara of course, she’s a waterbender you know, very rare, very special.” Ever since that day at the inlet Hakoda has never missed an opportunity to brag about Katara the waterbending prodigy. Bato finds it very endearing when he doesn’t find it annoying. 

“Hi Chief Arnook,” Katara greets, extending an arm for him to grasp. It brings Bato great joy to watch Arnook awkwardly grip her arm in greeting. “And Yue! Hey, long time!” 

Chief Arnook’s daughter walks out from the posse behind her father. 

“Hey Katara,” she grins. They walk off together, excitedly chattering and catching up like no time had passed at all. Two peas in a pod, those two. If only her father was even slightly as bearable as she was. 

“She’s grown so much since the last time I saw her,” Arnook says, “she’s really coming into herself. I still remember when she used to totter after her brother all the time.”

 Hakoda grins. “Yes she has. Still annoys her brother though, I don’t think that’ll ever change. Yue’s gotten taller too, she’s looking well.” 

“Yes, smarter and smarter every day,” Arnook says, finally smiling. “And you Bato, how is your...charge?” 

“My son is just fine,” Bato says. “Zuko! Come over here.” 

Zuko steps out from behind Amka, grim as a prisoner heading for the gallows. He shuffles slowly up to Bato. All eyes turn to him. 

“You still remember Chief Arnook don’t you? Go on, say hello.” 

“Hello Chief Arnook,” Zuko says softly. He extends an arm for Arnook to grasp. When Arnook simply extends a hand instead of an arm, Bato intercepts with a glare and forces his arm further for a proper Water Tribe greeting. Arnook grasps Zuko’s forearm limply with a grimace.

Zuko shrinks back to Bato’s side. Bato places a comforting hand on his back. Hakoda starts talking again and Bato tries to pay attention but something else catches his eye. 

The boy guard next to Arnook is staring. Specifically, he’s staring at Zuko and is doing nothing whatsoever to hide his gaze. Bato glares but he goes unnoticed. Bato doesn’t like the way the boy guard is staring. His eyes don’t move, they barely blink, it’s unnerving. What a creep. Oh no, and now the creep is clearing his throat, that means he’s going to talk-

“Hi,” he says, moving towards Zuko, “I’m Hahn. I think I’ve seen you once before when we were kids, but wow you’ve really grown since then.” 

Zuko looks surprised. He reaches out to grasp Hahn’s outstretched arm. Hahn doesn’t let go, instead stepping closer. 

“You have really beautiful eyes.” 

Bato scoffs. What an obvious, pathetic line. Kids these days have no finesse. 

“Oh,” Zuko flushes, looking pleased as a peach. “Thank you.” 

Bato tries to elbow his son discreetly in the stomach. Zuko stumbles slightly and glares.

“Hahn,” he says abruptly, turning away from Bato, “I can show you to your tent if you’d like.” Hahn grins. He has perfect teeth, how disgusting. 

“I’d love that.” 

Oh Bato’s sure he would. He watches them walk off. Hahn offers Zuko his arm, which his son takes, like a sucker. 

“What the fuck,” Bato hisses. Beside him, Taqtu guffaws and slaps Bato heartily on the back. 

“Looks like your little birdie is leaving the nest!” 

“Yeah right. ”

“I don’t know,” Amka grins, “it certainly looks like he’s just about ready for a first love.”

“Whatever,” Bato grumbles, “I’m tired of picking up after him, he can get his heart broken by that snively little creep if he wants, see if I care.” 

“Maybe he’ll move to the Northern Water Tribe,” Taqtu says, sly as a viper fox.

“Good! See if I care!” Bato yells over his shoulder as he stomps off.

Throughout the week Bato catches glimpses of That-Creep-Hahn and Zuko’s blossoming romance. There is hand holding, there are flowers, there is even stupid Hahn showing up at Bato’s tent with poetry like some kind of wannabe romancier. How cheesy, how unoriginal. No finesse. 

What’s worse is that Zuko is totally falling for it . 

He’s smiling dopily all over the place and gazing at nothing and generally ruining The Vibe. Disgusting. 

“Katara,” Bato mutters to her from his place beside her at the campfire, “what’s the deal with Zuko and that creepy kid.” 

Katara looks exceedingly amused. “Creepy kid?” 

“You know, the tall pointy one who keeps hanging around him.” 

“You mean Hahn? He’s not that creepy. Kind of an ass but all the boys his age kind of are.” 

“Yeah well Zuko keeps hanging out with him.” 

Katara waves her hand lazily in the air. “It’s fine, it's fine, Zuko’s got a good head on his shoulders.” 

“I don’t know anymore,” Bato mutters, “he’s changed.” 

“I wouldn’t worry about Hahn,” Yue assures Bato, reaching around Katara to pat him on the knee kindly. “He’s mostly just for show. Like Katara said, kind of an ass but harmless overall. If anything happens Zuko’ll get over him quickly.” 

“Zuko should get over him now.” Sokka mumbles from his sulky huddle on the ground. Right. The kid’s been miserable all week, drifting around and making sad faces at everyone. 

“Oh?” Katara smiles, wide and shit-eating. “What was that Sokka?” 

“Nothing. Whatever. I wish them both the best,” Sokka grumbles into his arms, glaring at the fire. 

Yue drops down beside him and throws a sympathetic arm over his shoulders. She pats his head like he’s some kind of droopy little kitten. Katara just cackles, like the proper little sister she is. 

Bato throws him a bone. 

“Sokka what do you think of that Hahn guy?” 

Sokka straightens and looks up for the first time, meeting Bato’s eyes. 

“Definitely a creep.” 

Bato nods in confirmation, satisfied. 

His only solace is that Sokka is suffering more than he is. 

The next morning the sun is shining and the air smells crisp and fresh. Bato stretches with pleasure. Today is going to be a good day. He whistles to himself, throws open the flap of his tent, and runs straight into Hahn. 

“What the fuck.” 

“Good morning sir,” Hahn says, recovering from his stumble. 

Bato narrows his eyes. “What do you want, twerp?” 

“I’m here to pick Zuko up.” 

Bato makes a big show of stroking his beard. “Who?”

“...Your... son, sir.” 

“No one named Zuko lives here. You must have the wrong tent. Ah well, off you go.”

Hahn looks bewildered, letting himself be ushered away by Bato’s flapping hands. 

The tent flap parts again. 

“Nice try Dad.” 

“Zuko!” Hahn looks relieved. “You do live here!” 

What. An. Idiot. 

“Bye Dad, we’re going now.” Zuko sweeps past him to grab Hahn by the elbow. 

“Where exactly are you going?” 

“Hahn is taking me fishing.”

“WHAT?!” Bato squawks, outraged. “You’re going fishing ? The heck do you need to go fishing with him for?” 

“Don’t worry sir, I’m a fantastic fisher. I know all about fishing. I could give you some tips if you want.” 

Bato gapes.

“Okay ,” Zuko says, pulling Hahn away before he can continue, “we’re going. See you later Dad.”

Bato watches their figures disappear into the distance. He’s still gaping. 

Today is not going to be a good day. 

Bato paces circles around his rug. 

He’s already gone to complain to Hakoda only to be laughed right back out. Once he was done wasting his time trying to get his best friend to display a single modicum of human sympathy, he’d gone to help Taqtu with repairs to the schoolhouse. He lasted half an hour there before Taqtu threw a hammer at his head and told him to go be grumpy somewhere else. Stupid Taqtu, he’s lucky Bato has such superior reflexes. 

Give Bato fishing tips? Who the hell does this bastard think he is that he could even deserve to breathe in Bato’s direction much less give him advice ? Bato’s got one million years of experience and knowledge and pure skill on him, how dare he - 

The tent flap opens. 

“Hi Dad,” Zuko sniffles. 

“Oh Zuko, good you’re back,” Bato says, “you need to -” 

Bato stops. Zuko’s eyes are rimmed with red, and he’s wiping at his cheeks which are blotchy and wet with tears. His breath is jerking out in little hiccups. 

“What happened?” 

“Hahn and I broke up.”

Bato wordlessly opens his arms. Zuko rushes forward to crash into them, burying his face in Bato’s chest. “You were…” Bato asks hesitantly, “officially together?” As far as he knows, people still have to be a couple first in order to break up. 

“Obviously!” Zuko sobs. 

Hahn has been here for a week and a half. Ah, youth. 

“There there,” Bato says, rocking them gently back and forth. 

“He- was- my- first- boyfrieeeeeenddd,” Zuko cries. Bato purses his lips. He kind of wants to laugh but his heart is also breaking a little. Feelings are hard. 

“You want to tell me about it?”

Zuko pulls away a little to catch his breath. Bato takes the opportunity to wipe at his face with a handkerchief. Zuko squints his eyes closed and lets himself be fussed over, blowing his nose when Bato prompts him to. 

“He tried to tell me how to fish and he was wrong and I told him so, and he, he kept insisting he was right and I was the wrong one, like I wasn’t taught everything I know about fishing by the greatest fisherman in the entire Southern Water Tribe and then he called me stuck up and bossy and too aggressive, and…” 

Zuko keeps going but Bato is stuck on ‘greatest fisherman in the entire Southern Water Tribe’. His mind flashes to a tiny boy leaning over the edge of a canoe, sticking his fingers in the clear, freezing water. Wide eyes looking up at Bato like he’s some kind of hero. 

Oh. There he is. 

Guess he hasn’t changed much after all.

He cuts Zuko off mid rant by pulling him back in for a tight bear hug. “I know,” he murmurs against solstice black hair, “he’s stupid. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He feels Zuko’s hands clench into the back of his coat. 

“You’re not stuck up, or bossy, or too aggressive. What you are is too good for the likes of that moron.” 

“But he brought me flowers,” Zuko sniffles. 

Bato rolls his eyeballs so hard they get sore. How does Hakoda do it so effortlessly? 

“Kid, I promise you there will be plenty of other boys who will bring you flowers. In fact, they’ll probably bring you stuff that’s better than flowers.” 

Zuko seems to consider this. “Okay,” he finally whispers. He looks up. “How come you’re always flirting with so many people but I never see you sad about any of them?” 

“Well I don’t put my whole heart into it.” 

“How do I do that?”

Bato ruffles his hair. “You can’t. I don’t think you know how to not give your all to everything.” 

“Should I learn?”

“No.” 

Zuko nods, accepting Bato’s answer without question. Full trust. 

“Want me to beat that loser up?” Bato asks. 

Zuko shakes his head. “No, he’s already scared of me.” 

“What? Why? What’d you do?” 

Zuko releases his death grip on Bato’s coat and steps back. 

“Oh I forgot to tell you,” he says, “he made me so mad that this happened.” 

Then Bato’s son cups his hands, takes a deep breath in, closes his eyes, 

                              and exhales. 

Three days later they send the Northern Water Tribe off. 

Bato would be worried about Zuko appearing at the big farewell gathering but honestly there really is no need. Ever since the morning Zuko showed up with puffy eyes Sokka has been acting as his positively rabid guard dog. He escorts Zuko around the village with a protective arm thrown over his shoulder, glaring at anyone who looks like they might say something about it. 

“Chief Arnook,” Hakoda says at the docks, standing in front of the backdrop of stately and impressive ships ready to set sail, “always a pleasure.”

Arnook clasps Hakoda’s forearm. “Likewise Chief Hakoda. It’s a comfort to see the tribe doing well.” 

Behind them, Sokka spins Yue around in a full circle before he deposits her back on her feet, only for her to tackle Katara into a hug. There’s promises to send letters and keep in touch. Yue turns to Zuko next, pulling him into a warm embrace. She strokes his hair fondly and whispers something quick and playful in his ear, bringing a smile to his face. The second they let go of one another Sokka is back at Zuko’s side, wrapping an arm around him and glaring daggers at where Hahn stands stiffly at attention. 

“We look forward to hosting you in two years,” Arnook continues while watching the kids chatter at each other, “there are many new additions to the city that I’m sure your children would delight in. And an abundance of sights to see. The North has everything and more.” He says the last part with a careless glance towards the village. 

Bato grins like a skunk shark smelling fresh blood in the water. “Well,” he drawls, “we do have one thing here down South that you don’t have.” Behind him, Taqtu laughs and tries to disguise it as a cough. Hakoda slaps a hand over his own face and sighs.

“Oh? And what is that?” Arnook raises an eyebrow. 

“Zuko!” Bato sings, “Come over here.”

Bato watches Zuko shoot a nervous glance towards Chief Arnook. He looks up at Sokka, who gives him an encouraging nudge forward, and then he is plodding through the snow alone to step up beside Bato. 

Bato smiles down at him and gives his hair a little ruffle. “Do the thing.” 

“It’s not a party trick,” Zuko grumbles. 

He plants his feet. He cups his hands, takes a breath, closes his eyes, and then exhales. 

Fire bursts forth from his palms. 

“A firebender!” Bato chortles gleefully at Arnook’s stunned expression. “As it turns out, my son is a firebender, very rare as you must know, very special. One of a kind in the Water Tribes certainly.” 

“Well,” Arnook stammers, “I- we- you... that certainly is… an anomaly.” 

Hahn looks a little green in the face. Poor guy. Maybe Bato shouldn’t have taken to looming silently behind him until he startled in surprise these past few days. Oh well, too late for regret now. 

Hakoda puts a kind hand on Zuko’s shoulder and grins. “It appears we have a matched set in the younger generation now. Katara, as you know, is-”

“A waterbender, yes I know,” Arnook cuts him off dazedly. 

Bato snickers at Hakoda from behind his hand. Hakoda discreetly kicks at his ankle, which hurts enough that Bato stops. 

“Can I go now?” Zuko asks. Bato shoos him off. Amka, Taqtu and other villagers reach out to tussle Zuko’s hair as he skitters past. Bato watches him duck and grumble his way past them, looking slightly pleased all the same.

“Well have a safe journey home!” Hakoda says, all smiles. 

Arnook nods stiffly, turning to lead his crew onto the waiting ships. 

Bato, feeling charitable and a little apologetic at the animosity the kid has endured, approaches Hahn and lands a heavy hand on his shoulder. Hahn turns in surprise. 

“I hope you have a comfortable trip back.” 

Oops. Maybe that didn’t come across as warm as he had hoped because Hahn looks positively terrified. 

Oh well, he tried. 

That night Bato is whistling happily while walking back from the campfire when he spots Sokka and Zuko partially hidden in the shadow of one of the tents. He immediately ducks behind one himself, sticking his head out to peak around the corner. 

His first thought is one of concern, because Zuko’s face looks so flushed he wonders if he’s caught a fever. Sokka seems to be… malfunctioning, is maybe the best word for it. One of his arms seems to be jerking out sporadically, tracing wild shapes into the air. The other arm is clenched behind his back. He seems to be talking very, very fast. 

Zuko finally pulls his gaze up from where it’s been nailed to the ground. He gives Sokka a tiny nod. Bato wonders if his face is going to catch fire. 

Sokka, looking overwhelmed and a little manic, darts forward to peck Zuko on the lips. Can it even count as a kiss? It lasts less than a second. He then proceeds to shove whatever it was he was gripping behind his back into Zuko’s hands and then...takes off. 

Zuko stands alone and dazed, blinking slowly. 

Bato sighs long and hard. He looks up at the darkened sky. It’s vast and endless. The wind blows gently, fluttering snowflakes across his cheeks. 

Oh brother. 

Hello spirits, he thinks, it’s me Bato. Why can’t I ever catch a break? 

The sky has no answers so he goes searching for Hakoda instead. 

He finds him doing his nightly rounds of the watchtowers. 

“Your son just had his first kiss,” Bato announces. 

Hakoda looks pleased. “Good for him.” 

“He ran away immediately afterwards.” 

Hakoda sighs. “Hm. Well. It’s the initiative that counts.” 

Later, at home: 

“He gave me seal jerky,” Zuko whispers, still flushed and quietly giddy. He opens his hand and sure enough there are a few misshapen brown sticks laying in them. “He made it himself.” 

He looks up at Bato in wonder. “You were right Dad. It is better than flowers.” 

Bato’s eyeballs hurt. 

And then of course, Katara finds the boy in the iceberg. 

And then some time after that, the kids leave on the giant flying bison. 

“It’s a month long trip,” Katara says, “we’re just going to see what’s out there for Aang. We’ll be back before you know it.” 

Bato and Hakoda send them off by the water’s edge. The giant fucking flying bison is laden with supplies and maps and food and more maps, despite Sokka being the only one among them that can read them. 

“If you don’t send regular updates I’ll kill you,” Hakoda reminds them. 

A chorus of “Yes Dad”s and “Yes Uncle Hakoda” and Aang’s sole chipper “Yes Chief!”. 

“Zuko,” Bato says, “if you decide at any point that you want to break up with Sokka I will come pick you up no matter where you are.” 

Katara laughs and Hakoda smacks him across the back of his head. Sokka looks on, wearing the dead eyed stare of a seasoned veteran. 

Katara scrambles onto the back of the bison first, sure footed and as adventurous as always. Zuko makes to follow her before turning around and throwing himself at Bato. 

“Bye Dad.” 

“Bye kid,” Bato replies. “Be safe.” 

Hakoda waits until the other three are situated up top before pulling Sokka back. Sokka makes a sound of question.

“Sokka,” he says, voice low. “I need you to look out for the others okay? You’ve got a good head on your shoulders so trust your instincts.” 

Sokka is the sole nonbender of the group. He looks a little like he might cry as he clears his throat.

“Okay dad, I will.” 

He stands a little taller as he walks away, reaching up towards the saddle for Zuko’s waiting arms. He’s always been Hakoda’s dorky kid, but right then he looks like a warrior. 

He and Hakoda wave until the flying bison is no more than a speck in the sky. Then they wave some more. 

Hakoda turns to Bato. 

“Well,” he says, “guess we’re free.” 

The kids come back after a month. They are filled with wonder at the wide, wide world they’ve tasted, clamoring over each other in their haste to tell them about everything . Apparently they defeated a whole ship of pirates. 

Insatiable in their curiosity, they leave again shortly after. 

Bato and Hakoda wave until the flying bison is no more than a speck in the sky. 

And so it goes over the years. The kids leave and come back, and leave and come back. Each time they look a little more steady on their feet, a little surer in their gazes. At some point they pick up a tiny blind earthbender and she starts coming back with them too.

Each time, Bato wonders if he’s going to recognize them when they come back. 

The first time Zuko comes back after he turns eighteen, Bato is surprised to see him shoulder his way into the tent with all of his bags. 

“Why isn’t Sokka carrying your bags?” is his automatic response. 

“I can carry my own bags Dad.” 

“Then what’s the point of him,” Bato grumbles. He watches Zuko place his bags down, opening them to begin taking out his belongings. 

“I thought you’d be staying with Sokka now.”

Zuko looks up in surprise. “What? Why?” 

“You’re eighteen now,” Bato says slowly, “I thought he’d take the first opportunity he could to get you guys a tent of your own.” 

Zuko frowns at him like Bato’s an idiot. “Why would I want that?” 

“To...live together. Wait. Did you break up?” Bato asks hopefully. 

Zuko rolls his eyes. He must’ve learned from Hakoda and not Bato because he does so effortlessly.

“No. I’m home now. I want to live with you, at home. I’m sure Sokka feels the same way.” He says this with such certainty, as if this should be an obvious fact. He walks over to Bato and throws his arms around his middle in a tight hug. 

“Welcome back kid,” Bato says into his son’s hair. 

“Missed you,” Zuko says into his coat. He burrows his hands into Bato’s sleeves. 

“Ack!” Bato yelps, “why are your hands like icicles?” 

“It was cold and windy up in the air today.” Zuko uncovers his face to look up hopefully. “Warm bath?” 

All of a sudden, Bato is looking down at a tiny boy in a borrowed coat, tears hanging off his lashes.

“Yeah,” Bato chokes out, “sure.” 

Sokka ruins the moment by poking his head in to check in on Zuko. 

“Why the hell didn’t you carry the bags?” Bato barks at him to cover up the lump in his throat. 

“I tried!” Sokka wails. 

“Language,” Zuko sighs.

The kids leave again. 

“You know,” Bato slurs one night, flat on his back in Hakoda’s tent, drink in hand, “being free again is not what I thought it’d be.” 

Hakoda, equally flat on his back just an arm length’s away, laughs. “How so?” 

Bato squints and thinks hard. “I don’t know. I was waiting for it for so long y’know. To be, to be a freewheeling bachelor again. ‘S not the same.”

Hakoda hmms. 

“Are we old now?” Bato asks, “are we just… old and boring? Do we not know how to be fun anymore?” 

“Maybe.” Hakoda pauses, hiccuping. “Maybe we just did what we were s’pposed to do. Took care of the tribe. Raised the kids. Boring stuff.” 

Bato hmms. 

Bato keeps his eyes open and tries not to blink. He watches the colors of the canvas blur together. Time passes like molasses, slow and sweet. 

A thought passes by and he reaches out to touch it. 

“I’m glad he has Sokka.” He stops, then says, “Don’t tell Sokka I said that.” 

Hakoda laughs. “Sokka’s a good kid.” The pride is evident in his voice.

“Yeah well, he’s your son,” Bato mumbles, “he was never going to turn out terrible.” Hakoda sticks over a lazy hand and pats him on the arm. “Never managed to grow taller than me though,” Bato adds gleefully. 

“You’re just a freak of nature.” 

“I’m amazing. Don’t be jealous, short stack.” 

“You’re the only one taller than me, asshole.” Hakoda flops over and tries to put Bato in a chokehold. Bato flails around and pushes at his face. They wrestle half heartedly before flopping back, too tired for retribution. 

Bato catches his breath. “I’m glad Zuko’s out there exploring. Learning. Becoming a person. All of them, they’re gonna rule the world someday. I don’t need him here.” 

“Still kinda want him here though, don’t you?” 

“Sometimes. You?”

“I always want them here. I want them to have everything. I’m their dad. They’ll come back.” 

“I don’t even remember what we used to be like.” 

“We were happy. But in a different way than now. More light. Less burdened.” 

Bato exhales. He throws his arm over Hakoda’s to ground himself lest he float away. 

They lay there, listening to the crisp night air outside. 

“Hey,” Hakoda says eventually, voice low and cozy. “Was it worth it?” 

Bato closes his eyes. Tastes the last decade and a half on his tongue. 

“Yeah,” he says. 

The next morning he wakes in his own tent, groggy and out of sorts. 

He’s in the middle of rinsing his mouth out when he hears a distinct ‘splat!’ sound on the outside of his ceiling. He stumbles outside, squinting in the morning sun. He places a hand over his eyes and looks up to see...is that polar poop on top of his tent?

He gapes. 

He hears shouts in the distance, turns to see a large bison by the water’s edge. Zuko is already cresting the hill, Sokka right behind him.

Sokka is carrying the bags.

He turns again to see Hakoda right in front of him, makeshift launcher propped on one shoulder. 

“Shit Launcher works,” he says, grinning wide enough that it changes the shape of his whole face, lighting up his eyes. He looks just how Bato remembers. 

Bato has no choice. 

He throws his head back and laughs into the bright, bright sunshine.