#youngestgeneral

      𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐘, 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐃𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘. Tarrlok had shrugged off far more troublesome diatribes. The general’s poetic observation was nothing to write home about, after all. It was dressed in the flowery language the councilman was so used to spouting himself.                      ‘ I shan’t lie — I do enjoy listening to your thoughts.                      Perhaps you ought to take up writing in your spare                      time, hm? ‘

“But I’m sitting on it now, hmm... I guess, we have three options.” Bumi grinned up at the rudely handsome man. 

"All I’m saying Wen, is that- whenever- wait.” Shiko propped herself up on an elbow on the middle of her bed, the phone forgotten next to the laptop, as she glared at the screen.

“Shikooo” Wen’s voice came from the other side of the call, and she picked the mobile up again, getting up to grab pen and paper.

“Yes, sorry. Can you believe Iroh’s in town and I’m finding out by a Facebook post?” She glared at the picture once more. 

Her brother and some guy hugging him by the shoulders, drinking at a bar by the docks. With my favourite person in the world, was the photograph’s caption, and she was seething, who the fuck was that guy, and why hadn’t Iroh told her he was in town?!

“I know! What do you think I’m doing? Going out to find him, of course!” Shiko scribbled down the address from the location tag, put on some ballerina flats, and grabbed a light jacket. 

“Oh, Wen what are they going to do? Send me to boarding-boarding school? Besides you should be on my side!” She checked her appearance on the mirrored doors of her closet, overall pleased with her emerald Audrey mini dress, and decided to let her hair off the ponytail. There, oh wait, lipstick! Okay, all done.

“Yes, I’ll let you know how it goes. Of course I’m taking the chauffeur, like I’m going to walk all the way there. I’m reckless Wen, not idiot.” Shiko lowered her voice as she exited her room, and made an easy way around the penthouse, and down to the garage. “Stay on for a moment more, I might need you.”

As she arrived to the guard’s cabin, the door opened, and she smiled sheepishly at Michael, who was already shaking his head. “No Shiko, you know how it goes, last time you got into a lot of trouble.”

“But Michael.” Shiko whined, pouting at the man. “I just got a text from Iroh, he wants me to go meet with him, he’s here!” She grinned widely, batting her eyelashes in her best cute face. The man seemed hesitant, and she just needed one final push to convince him, she knew. Her phone vibrated.

“Look, it’s true.” She opened the messages, and showed Michael the last one, nevermind that it had just arrived, she knew the man wasn’t going to check that, as long as the sender said Iroh. It did. Wen’s second mobile changed names on Shiko’s agenda according to what they needed it to be. 

“Okay. But Shiko.” She cut her happy dance short, to stare up at Michael, her hands properly placed behind her back, and a tiny smile on her lips. He sighed, and waved his hand dismissively. “Nevermind. Give me the address, and hop on.”

Shiko handed Michael the paper and got on the car’s front seat. One of her favourite things of travelling alone with him, was that she got to ride shotgun, and put her music on. Much better than going on the back seat, next to her mother and the deafening silence she needed to work on the phone.

They took to the streets, and Shiko returned to her conversation with Wen, enjoying the view as the city’s buildings slowly made way to warehouses and finally the docks, and its nightlife, with bars, clubs and food trucks. Michael’s hands tensed on the steering wheel, and he raised a brow to Shiko, who shrugged cheekily at him in turn.

When they got to the tagged address, Shiko hopped off, thanking Wen for the favour and assuring she’d stay out of trouble. She rolled her eyes as she did so, there was no way she was not going to get in trouble, but it would be worth it, if she got to see Iroh.

Standing by the car, and within Michael’s sight, she sent out a text.

*I’m outside, come meet me!*

He looked the same boy she knew; elegant and cute in his dress robes, his sparkling eyes taking in the city, and his politeness to agree. She had missed him.

It was a shame that she had to hold back; the ship had been as inconspicuous as possible, but his clothes, and the guards were indication enough, and they’d have to hug in close quarters. How royal of them.

“How are you, kid? Was the trip alright?” Lin asked, a hand on his shoulder, and her eyes on the guards behind them. She gave them a court nod, and turned back to her nephew, a clear dismissal of them, she’d take care of the boy.

“We’re going to make a stop at the station, okay? I need to finish some stuff, and grab work to take home, but you can wander around while I’m at it. It’ll be brief.” She reached up to remove the crown from his head, untying his top knot, and ruffling up his hair in the process. 

Azula sighed dramatically, making a show of rolling her eyes, but took his hand nonetheless, letting his arms find proper dance position.

As a shipping magnate based in Republic City, Varrick wanted the United Forces Navy on his side, or at least not actively hostile toward him. Varrick knew next to nothing about General Iroh, aside from his obvious fame as the United Forces’ youngest General, but he figured it would only be prudent to make an ally of him. At the very least, he should say hello, so he arranged a little meeting to discuss if the United Forces had any shipping interests.

Of course, Varrick had never actually seen Iroh before.

And boy, what a sight to see. Varrick was struck by Iroh’s dimples, his square jaw, his eyebrows a biplane could take off on. His broad shoulders! If Varrick swooned, he was absolutely certain that Iroh would catch him. It would look great on a poster.

It was honestly all that he could’ve asked for, that man. And Bumi had been unable to stop staring at him throughout their whole stay at Air Temple Island.

He’d gotten himself yelled at by Meelo about it a couple of times, because he kept falling of his air scooter, and it cost them a couple of games against the girls, ‘all because of your oogies’. But how could he not stop and smile, at the way his husband held baby Rohan, and made silly fire figures for the baby to gurgle at?

Ikki had chided Bumi in another occasion, demanding that he paid attention to the tea serving, because he’d poured the hot blend all over her cloth dolls for ‘getting dovey eyed’ over the General and Jinora meditating together. It was just his heart kept constricting, at the sight of him next to the little master, in yellows, with the sun setting behind them; it was like taken out of a painting.

Pema had caught his eye, knowingly, a couple of times every day; when she’d caught Bumi stopping mid-sentence because of Iroh’s laugh, or making a double take at the man training with Tenzin, preparing lunch with her, or collecting fruits with the Acolytes. ‘He does the exact same thing’, Pema had told him one day, and he’d felt his heart leap out of his chest.

One morning, as Bumi pretended to meditate, Jinora had approached him with questions. About love, and life, and the world, and every one of Bumi’s answers had inevitably devolved in the man currently being the leaf, under Meelo’s strict instruction. She’d smiled, and hugged him afterwards, and told him she hoped to have the kind of love they had.

So it didn’t come as a surprise when Tenzin went to him that night at the party, after all, he was the only one missing- aside from little Rohan, but it was not like the baby could do much. A hand giving a squeeze on Bumi’s shoulder, while entertaining a glass of eggnog on the other, his brother made no comment, but motioned to Iroh, watching the people dancing, in a corner, under a little plant of mistletoe.

Bumi laughed, pulled his brother to a hug that had the glass contents spilling on his robes, and made his way across the room.

“Love.” He whispered to his ear, thumbing the stubbled jaw, his free hand working its way up his back, flushing their bodies together. “It would seem there’s mistletoe up there.” 

“It would seem so.” His answer was warded, but his voice telling. Bumi smiled to the skin of Iroh’s cheek, fingers pushing his chin upwards, the man’s hands finding his waist, gripping tightly at the shirt’s fabric. 

“So I guess I’m going to kiss you now, okay?” Bumi’s eyes traced Iroh’s lips, blushed cheekbones, and finally found his golden ones, his own cheeks tight from the strain of the smile, leaning impossibly slow towards the General’s lips.

“Bumi.” Iroh complained softly, giving a small tug at his clothes, and he chuckled, licking his lips and finally brushing them against his husband’s.