Author's Note:

This is crack. There's so much crack that I could probably sell it in a back alley somewhere and make a ton of money. But I'm giving it to you for free, instead. Takes place after "The Fortune Teller", but before "The Waterbending Master". Might continue it later if I have the time.

10/5/07

Did some editing; hopefully this chapter is easier to read, now.

Something was very wrong with Iroh.

Zuko glanced at his uncle again from across the table. The roast duck lay untouched in front of the older man. A full cup of tea rested only inches from Iroh's hand, but he made no move to pick it up.

Iroh sighed and reached for his chopsticks. His nephew watched as Iroh pushed his meal back and forth across the plate.

"Uncle..." Zuko began. What should he say? Iroh had never been like this, even after Lu Ten's death. While Zuko himself was allowed to sulk for weeks on end, his uncle's mood swung only between "silly old coot" and "serious retired general". Sulky just didn't happen. At least, not until now.

"Uncle, have you lost your lotus tile again?" Zuko asked.

Iroh shook his head and let his shoulders droop.

"Is the tea made right?"

A sigh, followed by a nod.

Zuko frowned. If not the tea, then what? What else could have any importance in his uncle's life? An idea formed, and he felt an icy dread. No, it couldn't be...

"Uncle, did I...did I forget your birthday again?"

Iroh blinked. And then the Dragon of the West, former crown prince of the Fire Nation and retired general, threw back his head and cried.

A tight knot of guilt formed in Zuko's gut. He had forgotten Uncle's birthday. How had this happened? Lieutenant Ji was supposed to tell him about these things. Awkwardly, he leaned forward and patted Iroh's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Uncle. I'll make it up to you somehow. We can have music night early, if you want. Or we could go shopping. Right?"

Iroh only sobbed harder and pulled his nephew's robes to his face. There was a loud honking sound as he blew his nose on Zuko's silk robe.

Several thoughts ran through the prince's head. The first one was this: Ew.

Then, That's not going to wash out. And, Doesn't he remember how much this robe cost? I'm going to kill him. Murder him in his bed. Then finally, You're not allowed to kill your uncle. Even if he did just blow his nose on a very expensive sleeve.

From the depths of the snot-covered robe, Iroh began to blubber, "Oh Zuko, how kind. I don't deserve such a wonderful nephew when I am such a selfish...such a miserable..." And here he blew his nose again.

I'm not allowed to kill him, Zuko thought, but perhaps torture is within reason.

"It's just," Iroh bawled, "I'm so lonely!"

The banished prince froze, his thoughts of torture forgotten. Something was very, very wrong here. Off in a far corner of Zuko's brain, a neuron fired.

"So...I didn't forget your birthday?" Zuko asked.

Iroh sniffed. "No, no. I am...I desire a...companion."

Zuko blinked. He blinked again.

"A companion?"

"Yes."

Then, very slowly, Zuko inched away from his uncle. Discussing Uncle Iroh's sex life was very, very high on his list of things that made him distinctly uncomfortable. "Ah, yes." He said. "Well. I'll get right on that. Yes. So I'll just...leave the room now."

"No," Iroh cried, gripping the soaked sleeve tighter, "don't leave me!"

Zuko panicked. Several nightmares concerning the military and what happened when several men lived together for a long time flashed through his mind. "Uncle!" He screamed. "Are you insane?"

Iroh sobbed again. "I'm sorry," he said, "but I need your advice, Zuko! What woman will have me?"

Still struggling to escape, Zuko said, "Advice? What are you talking about?"

"Do not deny it, nephew! I have never seen so many young ladies admire a young man before! Everywhere we go there is a young girl throwing herself at the ship. Why can't I have that?"

Zuko stopped trying to gnaw his arm off. "You want a woman?" He asked. "To have se--" He stopped, blinked, and began to scream.

Iroh dropped Zuko's sleeve to smack the back of his nephew's head. "How could you think something so impure?" He said, a spark of fire back in his eyes. "How shameful! I want to love the way I did with my wife. I want a companion to share my life with! Is that so much to ask?"

Rubbing the back of his head, Zuko glared at his uncle. "If you don't want...that," he said, wincing at his uncle's raised hand, "then why do you need a woman? You're friends with every man on the ship."

The old man sighed and rested his hands on his ample belly. "A woman is different, Prince Zuko. I cannot describe it. My wife was like a perfect cup of tea, a delicate flavor warmed every part of me. After she left this world, I had thought that I would never want to know another woman. But I was wrong."

Zuko stared. "You just compared women to tea."

"It was a simile, nephew."

"You get more obsessed with the stuff every day! Today you compare it to women, and tomorrow you could compare it to breathing! When does it end?"

Iroh lifted an eyebrow in disdain. "You, like many others, do not realize the importance of a good cup of tea."

While Zuko ground his teeth, Iroh picked up his own cooled brew and began to warm it on his hand.

"I did not realize what I was missing until we met young Jun," Iroh continued. "She reminded me of how it felt to be young and passionate. And then we briefly encountered that entrancing woman on the mountain. Do you remember?"

Zuko nodded, then shuddered at the memory of the fortuneteller who was overly fond of blue eye shadow. "Don't tell me you're in love with her, Uncle. I don't think I could take it."

"Don't be foolish, nephew," Iroh said. "Love is too strong a word for such a short encounter. But I did enjoy speaking with her, however briefly. I realized that I wanted something more."

"Uncle, this is a military vessel," said Zuko. "We can't just drag a woman around for your amusement."

A single line of snot dripped from Iroh's left nostril. He reached out for Zuko's sleeve.

"But I did miss your birthday, didn't I," Zuko said, trying to scoot backward. "And the ship could use a cook. Right, we'll get right on that. Now let go of my sleeve!"