Chapter Text
Rain falls, rippling the puddles and flattening the grass. Lightning flashes above you, a jagged white tear in the sky, followed a heartbeat later by a clap of thunder that shakes the ground beneath your feet.
You don’t hear it. You’re immersed in your music, cranked up to full volume to drown out the sound of the world around you. You hum to yourself as you walk, fingers tapping out the beat in your pocket.
This is the biggest storm you’ve had in quite a while. The last time it rained this hard, you were indoors with a hot chocolate and a blanket around your shoulders, not trudging home from college with a guitar and a backpack full of animation coursework.
If nobody looked too closely, they wouldn’t realise that you’re not wet at all.
You dart a brief glance up to check how far the edge of the field is from you. You’ve been walking slower than you thought you had, you’re only about halfway across the two hundred meter span of grass.
“Agni above,” you mutter to yourself.
Well, Agni isn’t there at the minute.
Agni’s never there, you think dryly, because he doesn’t really exist. But years of watching the same show on loop will do that - you start picking up things from it, words and phrases that nobody in real life actually uses.
You turn the volume down slightly on your headphones and continue walking.
The storm keeps hammering down on you, droplets parting around you without you asking them to.
That’s been happening for a while, now. You stopped thinking about it a long time ago, but it still happens.
It wasn’t always like that.
You feel a hand on your shoulder and let out a small yelp of surprise, whipping around, hands moving into a better position for self-defence.
“Ah, sorry,” he says, holding up his hands in a gesture that says I mean no harm. “Didn’t mean to scare you–”
“I love your costume!” you burst out.
He stops, looking confused. “What?”
There are five of them, you realise, all dressed as characters from your favourite show. Aang, tiny and bald, complete with his glider. Katara and Toph, you’ve never seen anyone get their hairstyles so accurate. Sokka, complete with an honest-to-Agni boomerang. And the guy you just scared the shit out of - Zuko, right down to the shaggy fall of his hair and the scar that actually is the right size.
He’s still looking at you expectantly, waiting for an answer.
“I– sorry,” you say, breathless, as you remove one side of your headphones and part of the world returns to you. “Your cosplay - it’s amazing. I’ve never seen one so accurate.”
His brow furrows. “My… what?”
Gods, even his voice sounds like Dante Basco.
“You know.” You gesture to his outfit. “The clothes, the makeup, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
The guy dressed as Sokka raises an eyebrow. “Makeup?” He comes forward and squints at the other dude’s face, prodding at the red area around his eye. “You painted it with makeup? What’d you use, Suki’s pot?”
The guy dressed as Zuko scowls, and slaps his hand away.
“Ow. La above,” ‘Sokka’ complains.
“Sokka.” The girl dressed as Katara shoots him a disapproving look.
“Sorry about him.” The Zuko cosplayer rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.
“It’s fine,” you tell him, grinning. “I think it’s really cool how in-character you all are–”
“Weren’t you going to ask for directions?” the girl dressed as Toph interrupts.
‘Zuko’ throws his hands up with an unrepentant grin. “Agni above. Forgive me for trying to have a conversation.” He turns back to you. “But yeah, she’s right, I was going to ask where we are.”
“Oh - sure.” You wave a hand around at the greenery. “So, as you can see, we’re in the middle of a lush haven of wildlife, situated in the British country side… yeah, right. We’re in Manchester.” You give a wry grin.
He blinks, apparently genuinely baffled. “Manchester is… where, exactly?”
You roll your eyes, openly laughing now, but playing along anyway. “Welcome, my friends, to good old England. Here you can see the traditional weather–” you gesture to the sky and the continuing rain. “And the beautiful skyline of - wait for it - houses. How exciting!” you say with your best David Attenborough voice.
“Lovely,” the girl with the Katara outfit says with a dry smirk.
“I know, right?” you grin.
The kid dressed as Aang approaches you, seeming nervous and curious in equal measure. “Which nation is England in, exactly? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”
Okay, that one’s thrown you off guard.
“England is England,” you say, and it’s your turn to be completely baffled. “You know, the country. Part of Europe, fairly rich, very urban–”
“No,” Aang interrupts, “I mean nation. Like, Fire, Earth, Water–”
“Oh, ha-ha,” you cut him off. “I see what you’re trying to do. You think someone who’s watched the show about five hundred times through will believe that you’re actually the Gaang? Hate to break it to you, bud, but I’m not buying it.”
‘Zuko’ blinks. “I don’t know what makes you think we’re trying to trick you, but we’re serious. We don’t have any idea where we are–”
“Prove it,” you break in.
He blinks again.
You gesture vaguely in the direction of his hand. “Do some firebending,” you say with a smirk.
He hesitates, then nods. “Sure.”
Wait a second. Wait a fucking second. There’s no way–
He holds out a hand, and a flame blooms in it.
You stare.
You rub your eyes, and stare harder.
“What the actual fuck,” you decide.
Zuko - holy shit it actually is Zuko - closes his hand, extinguishing the fire.
Toph sighs loudly behind him. She kicks the ground, and a chunk of earth rises from it, which she plops herself down on. “If you’re going to stand around nattering like old grandmas–”
“We’re not.” You grab Zuko’s sleeve and start walking. “With me, all of you. Now,” you add at their startled faces.
Zuko plants his feet firmly. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t even know your name.”
“Do you want to stay out here in the rain all day?” you retort. “You don’t know where you are, where you’re going, even how you’re here. Fuck, I don’t even know how you’re here. You come with me, or you stay out here getting wet.”
“You can’t talk to me like this,” Zuko protests, “I’m the Firelord–”
“That means nothing!” you snap, whipping around to face him.
He flinches away from you, looking surprised and slightly hurt.
You pinch the bridge of your nose and let out a sigh. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”
“...It’s okay,” he says uncertainly.
“My point is,” you say, loud enough for them all to hear, “I can explain this. Most of it, anyway. But here isn’t a good place to talk. My house is about ten minutes away on foot, and as soon as we get there, I’ll tell you what I know.”
“She has a point,” Aang ventures.
You flash a grin at him.
Katara hesitates. “How do we know we can trust you?”
You dart a glance around, then raise a hand. Rainwater gathers as you move, swirling around your fingers with a familiar pull.
“Because I understand you,” you say quietly as you let the water drop.
They hesitate, but not for much longer. “Okay,” Katara says, the steel in her voice hard to miss.
“Okay, that’s settled, then. C’mon.” You set off toward the path, toward home, with five fictional characters straggling along behind you.
As you turn the corner onto your street, Zuko catches up to you.
“I never did learn your name,” he says.
You return his wry grin.
“I’m Y/N.”
You pull your key out of your bag and slip it into the keyhole, yelling a greeting to your mum as you step inside and gesture for the others to follow.
The Avatar steps over your threshold like he’s entering a sacred temple and stares around at the kitchen.
Sokka is next inside, and he gasps before running over to poke at the microwave. “What is that?” he yells.
“Don’t!” you yelp before he can lift it off the shelf.
Sokka pouts. “But it’s cool–”
“Y/N.”
You freeze.
Your mum has appeared in the kitchen door without your noticing, arms folded, eyebrow raised.
“Hello mum,” you mutter.
“Why have you brought five random cosplayers home?”