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Before they came to visit after Winter Solstice, Zuko had thought little of Aang and Katara’s relationship. He’d seen it coming for a long time, and beyond feeling happy for Aang, Zuko remained generally impassive toward this new development.
He was, however, forced to rethink things after he caught them passionately making out in the palace gardens.
Zuko hadn’t said anything about it, and he wasn’t even sure they knew they’d been seen, but it did cause him to reevaluate many of his assumptions about Aang. Zuko still saw him as a little kid, and he had never thought the boy capable of such oscular demonstrations. He had imagined Aang’s relationship with Katara to be sweetly innocent, with no passions remotely comparable to anything Zuko had done with Mai.
Which brought Zuko to an alarming question – what exactly did Aang know about sex? Who would have even told him? He’d only been twelve years old when he came out of the iceberg, and he had no parents or even a father-figure like Uncle to guide him in such delicate matters. Zuko couldn’t help but think of his own experience – no one had explained such things to him, prior to his banishment. He and Uncle had not been as close then, and with his father decidedly unconcerned, no one had thought to provide him with an appropriate education. Eventually, it became obvious to his men just how little he knew, and even with Iroh’s discretion, it had been an embarrassing ordeal.
Aang seemed on course to having a similar experience, only worse – it would be his girlfriend, not his subordinates, who would discover his ignorance. As his friend, Zuko felt duty-bound to prevent this, but the awkwardness of having to take on such a role was not lost on him. He would much rather avoid the subject altogether, or pass on the responsibility to someone else. But there was no one else, except for Sokka, Katara’s brother, who knew perfectly well to what use Aang would put such delicate information. So Zuko gritted his teeth and pulled the kid aside after a diplomatic meeting.
“Aang.”
“Yeah?”
“Um. Do you, uh, know about the birds and the flutterbees?”
Aang scratched his head. “Um, what?”
And with that, any hope that Sokka might have taken Aang aside and explained things to him was squashed. Zuko groaned into his hand and gestured to a completely bewildered avatar. “Sit down, Aang.”
How was he going to do this? Be strong, Zuko told himself. You have to do for him what you wish someone had done for you. He took a breath and moved his hand from his face, drawing on a perfectly good metaphor.
“Okay, so there’s this farmer, um, in the Earth Kingdom. And he needs to plant his seeds. So he -”
Aang drew back in surprise. “A farmer? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Just hear me out, Aang, okay? It’ll make sense, I promise.”
“Okay …” he said warily.
“So this Earth Kingdom farmer takes his plow -”
“Wait, why does he need a plow? Why can’t he use earthbending?”
“He’s not an earthbender.”
“Well, there’s gotta be an earthbender in his village, right?”
“He’s busy with the other farmers’ fields.”
“That busy? How many farmers are in that village? It only takes a couple seconds -”
Zuko yelled in frustration, “There aren’t any earthbenders, all right? The farmer’s actually in the Fire Nation!” When Aang shrank back, he said more softly, “My point is, he needs his plow. The plow is very important, okay? Very important.”
“Okay,” said Aang. “But what does this have to do with birds and flutterbees?”
“I’m getting to that! So anyway, the farmer puts his plow in the ground – um – repeatedly. And then he puts his seed in the holes the plow makes. And then he waits. He doesn’t know if any crops are gonna grow in the ground. But he has to take responsibility for what does come out, because he put the seeds there, and it’s his land. So when the crops come out of the ground, the farmer is very happy. He takes care of the crops and protects them and harvests them when they’re ready. Then he sends them out into the world so they can contribute to civilization. And when it’s spring, he’s very happy to put his plow in the ground all over again, and make more crops, because he loves his land and the crops so much.”
Zuko was actually reasonably pleased with how well this metaphor was working out. Aang, on the other hand, remained completely confused.
“Okay … Thanks for telling me, Zuko, but I kind of already know how farming works.”
“I know you know. This was actually kind of a metaphor. You see … if the farmer is a man -”
“Well, you called him a he.”
“I mean, um, he represents men. Men in general. And if the land represents women in general … then that’s where babies come from.”
Zuko felt his stomach start to sink as a look of realization crossed Aang’s face. This would be the hardest part. Now Aang would have all these questions, and they were both going to feel really awkward –
But Aang was laughing. Hard. He put his head on the table to stifle his snorts, and Zuko could feel the table shaking. This absolutely confused him. Did he say something wrong? How could Aang find this funny?
As Aang gained control of his breathing, he sat up and wiped a tear from his eye. “Zuko … if you wanted to tell me about sex, you could’ve just asked.”
“Wait. You mean you already knew? When? How?”
“The monks told me a long time ago.” He chortled. “Literally. I knew way before you were born. And even if they hadn’t, I’m thirteen now. You think I wouldn’t have figured it out?”
Zuko winced. He hadn’t figured it out at thirteen. “But … you were only twelve!”
“Only? I had my tattoos then. Don’t most people know by that age?”
“I guess it was different with Air Nomads,” muttered Zuko, who by now was completely mortified.
Oblivious to his distress, Aang asked,“Well, when did you find out?”
Zuko turned away to hide his grimace.“Much later than I should have. While I was banished. It turned out to be pretty embarrassing.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“I just didn’t want you, uh, in the same position,” Zuko said with a sideways glance. “I’m lucky I had my uncle, but you have … Sokka. Not that Sokka isn’t a great guy, but you talking to him about, um, that -”
“Would get awkward fast, yeah.”
“What I’m saying is, if you need anyone to talk to about this stuff … well, I’m here.”
“Thanks, Zuko. I really appreciate it. But I can tell this is really awkward for you and, well, it’s not like I don’t have dozens of past lives I can ask if I need to.”
“Oh. I guess I didn’t think about that.”
Aang grinned. “But if I need any help coming up with seemingly innocuous metaphors, you’ll be the first person I come to.”
“Gee, thanks, Aang.”
“Seriously, ‘the birds and the flutterbees?’ Who calls it that? What does that even have to do with … anything?”
Zuko groaned, “I don’t even know.”
Aang laughed. “That’s so weird.”
From then on, Zuko decided never to act on any assumptions when it came to Aang. He had a way of proving every single one wrong.