Archive of Our Own

Sokka remembers he was once repulsed by Zuko’s scar. It seems like so long ago, now, but the scar had been such a distinct mark of Fire Nation cruelty, and, seeing as it was worn by their prince, their prince who was bent on capturing Sokka’s friend and the world’s last hope for balance, Sokka never considered what its cruelty meant for its wearer. It was just another thing to hate him for.

It pains Sokka when he realizes that he’d never once considered how much a burn of that caliber would have hurt. It must have been excruciating, and now Zuko has to bear it every day, has to force himself to ignore the lingering stares, the discomfort in downcast eyes, the occasional curious questions, the perpetual inability to hide as the new branded Firelord.

He doesn’t talk about it, so Sokka can’t bring himself to ask.

Sokka forces Zuko along with him and the gang to the city folk’s celebrations and festivals. As the weeks trek on from the end of the war, there are more and more of them, and they get rowdier and rowdier.

Sokka lives for it.

He also, kind of, lives for how stressed Zuko gets.

It’s not too bad—if Zuko were legitimately freaking out, Sokka would get him out of there as fast as possible. Zuko just, well, it’s as though all the grace of being a master firebender and swordsman, all the grace of more than a decade being raised as a prince in a palace—it all gets sapped away. And it is hilarious.

The man is cowering in his stupid cloak, touching his hood every few seconds like he’s afraid Aang has blown it off without him noticing. If one person notices his scar, they could draw a whole crowd in, which would stress the guards, and the ordeal could ruin the gang’s night out. So his paranoia isn’t unfounded, but that doesn’t make it any less cute.

Katara is scolding Toph for something or another when Zuko walks face-first into a market stall, and his stumbled apology afterwards gets repeated in a higher pitch when it’s clear the stall’s owner doesn’t recognize him and starts going off.

Sokka could help, but watching Zuko try to pick up fallen wares only to drop them again when the shopkeeper slings another insult is just far too entertaining. Katara and Toph don’t help either, instead pausing in their fight to grin at the scene.

Suki, though, whacks Sokka’s shoulder as she pushes by to assist. She’s a better person than he is, Sokka decides, but he’s fine with that.

A little later, Zuko tries to take a bite of his newly acquired squid-piglet-on-a-stick (Aang is horrified) and promptly drops the entire thing down his front. His robes have a scattered streak of red-brown fire sauce from his chest to his knees. Sokka points and laughs, then laughs some more when Zuko turns furiously red as he glares at him.

Aang almost cries about the squid-piglet having died for nothing, as it’s now coated in dirt and dust in the middle of the bricked street, and Katara leads him away to console him.

“Way to go,” Toph says with a wicked grin. “Now you have to buy another.” She stomps her foot, and the squid-piglet gets sucked between the bricks, buried.

“I’ve just noticed that I’m not actually hungry,” Zuko says, his fists tight little balls at his sides as he examines his robes.

“Zuko, aw, it’s okay.” Suki pats his shoulder. It’s far more patronizing than comforting, and Zuko turns his glare onto her.

It’s almost effective—under the shadows of his cloak, and with his hair down and slicing over his face, he could be dangerous.

But context is key where Zuko is concerned. So he just ends up looking a bit pathetic.

Suki spins around to give Sokka a sweet smile that he doesn’t trust at all. “Babe, why don’t you help him find something to eat? Something easier to hold onto, maybe.”

“I can find food myself!” Zuko complains, and while he’s not quite yelling like he did in the past, his voice still carries a little too far. A few passersby glance over uneasily.

Toph smirks. “Good for you, Baby Lord.” She dips into a mocking curtsy.

A couple of the people around them twist as they try to get a better look under Zuko’s hood. Figuring it’s time to get him out before he causes an actual scene, Sokka snatches Zuko’s hand and tugs him away. He ignores how Suki winks as he goes.

“This is ridiculous,” Zuko grunts when they slow down about a block from the direction they came.

“You’re ridiculous,” Sokka counters, because he’s a comedic genius.

“I don’t know why you keep dragging me to these things. It’s not even fun.”

Sokka rolls his eyes and begins scanning the nearby stalls for something Zuko might like. “My feet say you’re lying.”

“Your feet don’t say anything except that you need new boots.”

“What’s wrong with my boots?”

Zuko frowns and crosses his arms. “They’re… too thick. It’s hot here.” He’s obviously making this up on the spot. “So if you’re staying now you should get lighter ones. Also they make your legs look funny.”

Sokka stares down at the boots in question. “Funny how?”

“Uh,” Zuko looks at them too. “Calves.”

Sokka blinks and twists one of his legs to look from a different angle. “Yes, I do have calves, Zuko.”

“Yeah,” he replies, turning to the closest stall and sticking his hand in his hood to rub the back of his neck.

It’s dusk, getting steadily darker, and at this point Zuko’s face is mostly lit by flickering, orange lanterns. So it’s hard to tell, exactly, but Sokka thinks Zuko’s blush might be back.

“You’re terrible in crowds,” Sokka declares and marches to a stall. Zuko follows close behind. “Let loose a little. No one’s out to get you anymore.”

Zuko sighs, and his arm bumps Sokka’s elbow. “We don’t know that yet. And besides, I am loose. I’ve never been so loose.”

“Gross,” Sokka chirps, and while Zuko is looking all confused, Sokka goes on to order them a large pouch of spiced rat-vulture slices to share.

“This is disgusting,” Zuko says as he goes in for seconds.

“Absolutely,” Sokka agrees, cramming four into his mouth at once.

When they’re all making their way back to the palace later that night, Suki falls into step beside Sokka and Zuko. “So,” she drawls, “how was your date?”

Zuko’s eyes widen and flick between the two of them, his lips in a little ‘o,’ and Sokka grabs Suki by the arm and rushes ahead to where Toph is picking on Aang and Katara.

“You are the worst,” he mutters in her ear.

“Please,” she grins. “I’m the best girlfriend in the world.”

.

The best girlfriend in the world goes back to Kyoshi Island. The best sister in the world takes her boyfriend to travel the nations again. The best earth bender in the world ventures back to Ba Sing Se to be subtly parented by Iroh.

Which leaves the best friend in the world to manipulate and criticize Zuko’s work habits.

.

“Chill out,” he says for the hundredth time. “You can’t do everything at once.”

“I have to try,” Zuko bites back, like he always does.

.

“Leave that to your advisor,” Sokka says for the hundredth time.

“It’s too important for that,” Zuko bites, like he always does.

.

“You don’t need to go to that meeting; it’s just a summary and it’s already handled.”

“I have to make sure they’re following all of the stipulations we laid out.”

.

It seems to Sokka that the only time Zuko willingly leaves his work behind is his weekly visits to the facility just outside the city. The facility where Azula is held. The facility where Azula is resisting all attempts to aid her recovery.

“Let me come with this time,” Sokka urges.

“No offense, but I don’t think your presence will be helpful.”

Sokka rubs at his forehead. “Zuko. Every time you come back from there you look miserable. Well, more miserable than usual. Please let me be there for you. I want to be there for you.”

Zuko chews at his lip. “She won’t like it.”

“When have I ever cared about what Azula would like? I don’t even understand why you care about what Azula would like.”

“She’s my sister,” he hisses without a beat of hesitation. It startles Sokka for how vicious it is.

He responds slowly, carefully. “Your sister who tried to kill you multiple times. Your sister who is a sociopath.”

It doesn’t help. “You didn’t see her after the Agni Kai. She’s not a sociopath. And you’re not coming.”

Sokka doesn’t try to argue any further. Zuko stares at him a moment longer, eyes flashing, and then turns and sweeps away. His robes billow out behind him and Sokka can only watch him leave.

Nothing’s changed when Zuko returns. His eyes are red-rimmed, his jaw is tight, and his cheeks are sucked between his teeth. Like always.

But now Zuko doesn’t go with Sokka to dinner. He doesn’t let Sokka follow him back to his chambers to laze around on the floor while Zuko gets a little more work in for the day. Zuko casts him one icy look when Sokka goes to retrieve him, and Zuko walks right by.

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, but Sokka’s always hated fights with friends. It’s even worse when it’s his fault.

.

Sokka expects Zuko to come around, but he doesn’t. He finds excuses to leave whenever Sokka shows up, and he treats him like any of his other advisors in meetings, and he ignores all of Sokka’s attempts at conversation or humor.

It’s an overreaction, Sokka thinks. He can’t believe Zuko is going this far over Azula. Zuko’s love for his family doesn’t extend to his murderous father, so why should it extend to his murderous sister?

Sokka had once wondered if he’d still love Katara if Katara were like Azula, and at the time he’d said yes. But that was before the Agni Kai, before Azula tried to kill Katara and nearly killed Zuko instead, before Sokka had to deal with an exhausted, emotionally-beaten Zuko week after week. If Katara were like Azula, Katara wouldn’t really be a sister anymore. Not the way he thinks of one, at least. Sokka thinks now that he might leave an Azula-Katara to rot in prison, the way they once left that blood bender to rot in prison, the exact place she’d gone mad. Maybe execution would be kinder—

Sokka is not going to tell Zuko that he thought even in passing that Azula might be better off executed. If he did, he’d probably end up banished.

But this can’t go on. Sokka can’t just sit by and watch as Zuko retreats into himself, a husk of the man he’d worked so hard to become, an exhausted mess because Azula is ripping him apart at the seams and because he won’t stay around Sokka enough for Sokka to tell him to rest. So Sokka decides he needs to leave.

Zuko usually sticks around after meetings to reread and consolidate his notes. This time, Sokka sticks around, too. Zuko notices Sokka is still seated as the door closes behind the last advisor. He immediately starts shuffling his papers into a pile, and he rises to leave.

“Zuko,” Sokka says, and his voice is as dejected as he feels. “If I can be excused, I’d like to visit Suki on Kyoshi Island for a while.”

Zuko freezes. A page in his hand trembles.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen her, you know? And—and I miss her.”

Zuko swallows and nods, not meeting Sokka’s gaze. “That will be fine.”

“Yeah? You don’t need me to help with the new school curriculum?”

“We can manage. How long will you be gone?”

Sokka takes a deep breath and leans back in his chair. “I don’t really know yet. Maybe a while?”

Another nod, another “That will be fine.”

And then Zuko is gone, and Sokka still sits, feeling increasingly miserable.

.

Sokka doesn’t tell Suki he’s coming, and she’s delighted by the surprise. She throws herself against him in an unstable hug and rocks them side to side.

“It’s been months!” she says into his neck. “What’re you doing here?”

“Just thought I’d drop by.”

She leans back to see his face. “Aren’t you busy? Doesn’t Zuko need your help?”

He shrugs and grins. “We’ve set up a pretty good system. I can take a lil’ vacation.”

She hugs him again. “You have to have lunch with me and my warriors. There are so many I want you to meet!”

“You had me at ‘lunch.’”

.

There’s something strange with Suki. Sokka can’t quite put his finger on it. But while they’re gathered and eating, and Ty Lee is making increasingly absurd comments about Sokka being cute, Suki leans away from him and towards her.

And while Suki lets Sokka put his arm around her, and hold her hand, they haven’t kissed.

.

“I’m actually taller than him now, so shut your mouth,” Sokka says proudly when he and Suki are finally alone for the evening. Suki had just made one of her classic jokes about being Zuko being “so taaaaall,” because she’ll never get over the way Sokka had admitted his attraction for the man. The joke has been beaten into the ground at this point, but it still makes him smile.

“How’s it been with you two?” Suki asks, and Sokka’s smile falls.

“It’s fine.”

She rolls her eyes. “Just fine?”

“Yeah,” he says, sitting on a mat on the floor. Suki follows and sits beside him. “Just fine.”

“That doesn’t sound very fine.”

Sokka shrugs and tries for another smile, but he can tell by the look on Suki’s face that it falls flat. “We had a little fight, but it’s not a big deal.”

“Uh-huh,” she says. “Such a not-big-deal that you fled to the Earth Kingdom?”

“I fled to the Earth Kingdom because I miss you.”

“So you admit that you fled.”

Sokka puts his head in his hands, then peeks out the side at her. “Do you… do you not want me here?”

Suki’s eyes go wide, and she puts her hand on Sokka’s slouched back. “Why would you think that?”

He sits up straighter. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

She bites her lip. “I’m glad you’re here, really. I’ve missed you too.”

Sokka swallows. “But?”

“…But,” she confirms, squeezing her eyes shut and sighing. “Things have been kind of… different, you know? And it’s been so long since I’ve seen you, and you’ve been with Zuko, and I…”

“Suki, I told you nothing would ever happen with me and Zuko. That hasn’t changed just because we’ve been apart for a while.”

She sighs again. “I know, but…” Looks down. “I’ve just…”

“Oh,” Sokka says, and his hands drop to his lap. “It’s changed for you.”

As much as he tries, he can’t keep his voice from breaking. He doesn’t look at her—he can’t.

“I’m sorry, Sokka. I haven’t done anything, because of you, but everything’s so different now, and—”

“It’s Ty Lee, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“That’s okay,” he says, getting to his feet. “Lots of your warriors are together. You said so yourself.”

“Sokka—”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll just, um, catch the next ship out. I shouldn’t have come by unannounced, that was stupid.”

She stands and blocks his way to the door with her arm. “Stop it, Sokka. Don’t go.”

“Suki, please.”

“I want you here,” she states. “You’re still my best friend. Please don’t go, not like this.”

He thinks for a moment before heaving a breath. When he decides, it’s more out of his desire to not go home—to the palace, since when is that home?—than it is his desire to stay. “Fine, I’ll stick around a little longer. But can I please just… tonight? I think I need to be alone right now.”

She drops her arm and nods. “I understand.”

As he leaves, she adds, “I’m really sorry, Sokka.”

He doesn’t have it in him to reply.

.

The air is humid while he walks, and he wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Stink-gnats keep landing on his skin and it’s disgusting. He waves them off but accidentally squishes one, and then he smells like sweat and bug gas.

He’s angry. He thinks about how set in his resolve he was when he finally admitted to his feelings for Zuko, and how Suki hadn’t minded when he told her, because she trusted that he’d never act on them. It hurts, so much, that she couldn’t give him that in return. Zuko is surprisingly sweet and sometimes overwhelmingly attractive, but so is Suki, and Sokka had chosen Suki. Where is her sweetness now?

What does Ty Lee have that he lacks?

After stumbling into a pricklethorn bush and yelling at it for a minute, he catches himself. It’s not really fair to be angry with Suki for this. He still is—and he reserves his right to be—but it’s not her fault that she’s fallen for someone else in the months they’ve been apart.

And it’s probably not his fault, either.

With a heavy sigh, Sokka turns back to settle into his room at the inn.

.

The longer Sokka stays, the easier it gets. It’s difficult to be around Suki and remain distant, so after a while he stops trying.

They haven’t ever really been just friends before, though, so it takes some getting used to. He finds himself questioning every action, wondering if an arm around her shoulders is too far, wondering if it’s still okay to tease her about some things. But it’s okay, because he can tell she’s questioning herself too.

By the end of a month, they’re back. Relaxed, carefree, and friends. Sokka asks her about Ty Lee, and listens to her careful gushing, and she asks about Zuko, and he changes the subject. Just because they’re not dating anymore doesn’t mean he’s going to jump into Zuko’s arms. He’s not even sure he wants that. Also, he and Zuko are still very much in a fight. After a while, Suki stops asking.

Ty Lee insists they get a painting made of the three of them, all in full makeup and armor. Sokka pretends to resist, but he doesn’t really care. A few days later, Ty Lee lets it slip that she had it sent to the palace for him, and Sokka grits out a smile. Zuko will probably have it burned.

He stays a long time, because Suki and the other warriors want him to, and because it’s easy and fun. No hawks come in from the palace to call him back, and it’s as though life beyond the island doesn’t exist. He almost understands now why Kyoshi Island stayed out of the war for so long.

And then a Fire Nation ferry arrives with a very angry toddler on board.

“What,” Toph demands, “do you think you’re doing?”

Sokka looks down at the sword in his hand. “Um, training?”

“You’ve left Zuko by himself for almost three months, Slacker.”

“I’m on vaca—”

“No, stop talking,” she says, and when she stomps her foot, the ground shakes. “Do you know how desperate he must be if he’s calling on a thirteen-year-old for help? I just left and he’s a wreck—”

“Wait, he called for you?”

She ignores him. “He’s completely driven himself into the ground, he’s almost died four times, and he has no one to talk to! You were supposed to be there for him. I would have gone sooner if I’d known you weren’t going to be there for him.”

“He almost died? What?”

“The assassination attempts, Slacker. Or were you too busy prancing around putting on makeup to care about that?”

“I didn’t know about that—”

She stomps again, harder this time. Sokka almost falls over. “You would know if you’d just been there. Like you were supposed to be.” Her head snaps to the side, and Sokka looks that direction to see Suki has arrived.

“Sokka,” Suki says, looking worried. “Go. You need to go back.”

Sokka sighs between gritted teeth and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, apparently.”

The goodbyes are short and simple, with promises to see each other again soon. Toph’s arms are crossed and she taps her foot furiously on the ground the whole time.

On the ship, she asks, “Why would you leave him?”

“I just needed a break,” he says, and the excuse sounds flimsier and flimsier as it rings in his ears.

“Why would you leave him for three months?”

He looks away. He doesn’t have an answer.

.

Zuko briefly looks startled when he first sees Sokka slink into his chambers, but then he slips into nonchalance and goes back to work. Sokka supposes he deserves that. He’s trying to think of something to say when Toph slides her foot along the stone floor, and one of the tiles under Zuko’s chair momentarily rises and knocks it out of balance.

“What was that for?” he growls, righting himself.

“I’m not leaving until you make up with Slacker, here. So get on with it.”

“Just for the record, I’m not a fan of this new nickname,” Sokka says.

Toph bumps one of the tiles beneath Sokka this time. He grapples at the wall to stay upright. “You’ve lost the right to complain,” she says. “Now talk.”

The silence goes on and Sokka can see Toph getting impatient, so he shuts his eyes and blurts, “I’m sorry.”

Zuko picks up a brush pen and examines it like it’s fascinating. “For what? I should be sorry.”

“For what I said about—wait, why would you be sorry?”

Zuko frowns. “I was… cold.”

“You’re a firebender,” Sokka says, unable to help himself. “You’re never cold.”

Toph scoffs. “Not the time for jokes, Slacker.”

Sokka groans, then says to Zuko, “Yeah, well, you don’t need to be sorry about that. What I said about Azula wasn’t… nice. And I shouldn’t have left.”

“You have every right to leave.”

Sokka rolls his eyes and moves closer to Zuko’s desk. Zuko tracks the movement from the corner of his unscarred eye.

“Maybe, but I still shouldn’t have. Especially without apologizing first.”

Zuko sighs and sets down the brush pen, then leans back in his chair to look at Toph. “Hey Henchman, could you leave us alone for a minute?”

Toph grins. “Take all the time you need.”

When she’s gone, Sokka swallows. “Henchman?”

Zuko shrugs half-heartedly. “She made a comment about not having a nickname, and she always gives one to us, so I tried giving her one. She didn’t like Sidekick or Metalhead, so I stuck with Henchman. It makes her smile.”

Sokka sits on the edge of Zuko’s desk. Zuko hasn’t looked at him since Toph left. “That’s really sweet,” Sokka says.

It’s quiet for a moment before Zuko all but whispers, “She waved at me last week. Waved. And she asked if she could visit the palace sometime.”

Sokka frowns. “She’s in the palace.”

Zuko’s brow furrows and he finally looks up. After a beat, his eyes widen into horror. “Azula’s in the palace?”

“Oh—” Sokka starts, and he slaps his palm to his head. “Sorry, sorry. Thought we were still on Toph.”

A small smile toys with Zuko’s lips, but he pushes it down. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t make that too clear.”

Sokka thinks through what Zuko had said. “So… you said she waved?”

This time, he doesn’t suppress the smile. It’s barely there, but it speaks wonders to Sokka. “Yeah. It was almost like… it was almost like she was excited to see me.”

Sokka doesn’t trust it in the slightest. He’d sooner expect Azula to play the long game and use Zuko’s unwarranted love for her to get him to free her than he’d expect her to show actual affection. He doesn’t say this, though. Instead, he forces an encouraging smile to match Zuko’s.

“Her whole life,” Zuko rasps, “I feel like it can be written in chapters separated by people who’ve abandoned her, or just let her down. Mom, me, Uncle, Mai and Ty Lee…. She just, she just clung onto whatever she could, you know? But for a long time that was Father, and he… his form of love wasn’t really love. He taught her how to love, and he taught her wrong.”

Sokka considers this. It’s not off-base, he imagines, but a tragic backstory doesn’t mean she’s going to make her recovery in less than a year.

“She doesn’t know how to trust people anymore. She definitely doesn’t know how to trust me. But I think if I can just show her I really care, that I’m not going to abandon her again… I think that’s a start.

“I know you don’t trust her. I get it. I really get it. But please trust that I need to do this—that I want to do this. And for now, at least, I have to do it alone.”

Sokka reaches for Zuko’s hand on the desk, but pauses halfway. It’s like with Suki—he’s not sure if they’re ready to be back to that yet. If Zuko is ready for casual, physical affection from him yet.

But Zuko closes the distance and raps his index finger against Sokka’s knuckles. Sokka flips his hand and they slide their fingers together.

“I do trust you,” Sokka says. “I just need you to be careful. And don’t take any of the crap she says to you to heart.”

“I won’t,” Zuko replies, glancing up to Sokka. There’s a dusting of pink over his cheek and across his nose, a little pathway to the red of his scar. “I don’t,” he corrects.

Sokka snorts. “Yeah, right. You take everything people say really hard. Whatever nonsense she spews cuts you deep. I’ve seen it.”

“You haven’t seen anything.”

“Please. I’ve seen you moping around all wishy-washy after your visits. And I see you now looking like a complete wreck. I mean, spirits, have you slept at all since I left? Eaten? Brushed your hair?”

“For your information—”

“Oh, no, at least tell me you’ve bathed.”

Zuko’s face finally splits into an actual smile, and he squeezes Sokka’s hand. “I haven’t been that bad. But when Toph got here she practically beat me up every few hours. It helped I guess, but I’ll be bruised for weeks. It’s annoying.”

“You’re annoying,” Sokka counters.

Zuko just rolls his eyes, and then he pushes aside his papers to take a much needed break.

.

The assassination attempts continue. It’s like a floodgate has opened; now that they’ve started, they won’t stop.

The whole gang comes to visit after a particularly terrifying one. Zuko is still unconscious, lying in a feverous heap on a bed in the palace infirmary, with everyone gathered around him in a terse silence.

He’s been out for three days. His breath is broken as it crawls through ragged lungs. He’d been poisoned, and he’d almost died. The doctor has still been hesitant to suggest he’s going to be okay.

Sokka holds his hand in both of his own. He’s barely slept—every time he does his nightmares seem too real. Zuko taking his last breath. Katara crying. Sokka, too stunned to cry. Or the doctor announcing he’ll be in a coma for the rest of his life. Sokka, hesitant to ever leave his side, but being forced to anyways.

Suki shoots Sokka a questioning glance at one point, nodding down to Zuko’s hands in his, asking a question she doesn’t deserve the answer to. He looks away.

When Zuko finally wakes up, he’s bleary-eyed and barely coherent, but Sokka perches on the side of his bed, stroking his hair and whispering assurances anyways. Zuko lets out a choked sigh and leans into the touch before falling back asleep.

It’s like that for a while. The first time Zuko manages to speak, he says, “I dreamt I got poisoned,” and then promptly passes out again.

Sokka gets him to drink water. He drinks it too quickly and throws up all over himself. Katara tries to help clean him up, but Sokka bats her away.

“I can waterbend it out,” she says.

“I’ve got it,” he replies.

The gang sticks around a while, even after Zuko has recovered enough to be wheeled around the palace. He’s still weak and can hardly stand for more than a few seconds at a time, though.

Only when Aang receives a hawk about a renegade spirit in Gaoling does everyone decide to part. Katara, because she follows Aang anywhere, Suki, to be dropped back off at the island, and Toph, to try to reconnect with her parents. The goodbye takes longer than usual. Everyone hugs Zuko multiple times, gently, but with a ferocity. He could be dead before their next visit, they realize.

.

“Will you go with me tomorrow?” Zuko asks, his face half-buried under his blankets. They’re back in his chambers.

“With you where?” Sokka is lying beside him, but on top of the blankets.

“To see Azula.”

“Oh. Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

Zuko’s smile is soft. “I need to see her. It’s been too long already. She might think…” He shakes his head. “And she asked about you, last time.”

“What?” Sokka startles. “Why would she do that?”

Zuko chuckles. “I asked her the same thing. Apparently, I ‘talk about you too much.’ She just asked what you were up to, because I hadn’t mentioned it yet.”

“Oh,” Sokka says, brow furrowing. His guilt for having left Zuko for so long grows again. “That’s… that sounds kind of nice, actually. For Azula, at least.”

“I mean, she also called you my ‘peasant,’ so it isn’t like she’s going to be buying you gifts anytime soon.”

Sokka laughs. “Hey, you don’t buy me gifts either. Why don’t you buy me gifts?”

Zuko gives him a sidelong glance, but doesn’t reply.

The next day, a servant hands Sokka a scroll. It’s a collection of haikus.

.

Azula has metal cuffs that encase her entire hands, and her feet are chained to the floor. Her hair is a spider-rat’s nest over her face and she’s paler than ever.

But when she sees Zuko, her expression flickers with something Sokka’s never seen on her before, something he can barely recognize. It’s gone in an instant, but it was there.

Sokka wheels Zuko in and puts him in front of her before sitting in the chair set next to him. Azula regards them in her calculating way.

“I thought you’d given up on me, Brother,” she says, voice as dead as her eyes.

“Never,” Zuko says with a smile. “Just had a…” he waves down at his chair, “complication.”

Azula’s gaze keeps darting between him and Sokka. “Did your little friends finally come to their senses and try to have you put down?”

“Not my friends, no. I’m sorry I wasn’t here the last few weeks.”

“I don’t care,” she says. “It was nice to have some peace and quiet.”

“You don’t strike me as the peace-and-quiet type,” Sokka notes.

She cuts him a glare.

Zuko sighs. “Azula, Sokka. Sokka, Azula.”

Azula laughs, and it’s a weak, petty thing. “I’ve met your peasant before, ZuZu.”

“Well, now you know his name, so you can start using it.”

Sokka tries for a cheeky grin. “You can call me SoSo if you want.”

She’s not amused. “Yes, yes. Very funny. I’ve always enjoyed your little quips.”

“I’m a regular comedic genius. Like how you’re a pathological liar.”

She blinks, looking him over again. Zuko shakes his head. “Hey, roll me over to her?”

Sokka scoffs. “What? No way.”

Zuko rolls his eyes. “It’s normal, Sokka. Usually she’s not even chained up.”

Sokka looks at her handcuffs. She waved, he remembers. Oh. She’s only chained up for his sake.

“Okay,” he eventually says, and he wheels Zuko over to where he asks before taking his seat again. He stays on the edge of it, though, not willing to relax while Zuko is so close and so defenseless.

“Your peasant actually seems to have survival instincts, ZuZu. Smart. Unlike you.”

Zuko just shrugs and pulls something from his robes. It takes Sokka a moment to register that it’s a comb.

He starts working through her hair from the bottom, his touch gentle and his face impassive but relaxed. He does this every time—Sokka can tell from the way Azula doesn’t resist or seem surprised in the slightest.

“Will you ever walk again, ZuZu?” Her tone remains its usual snide, twisted thing, but Sokka finds himself wondering, for the first time, if she actually cares to know. If she’s concerned, but can’t admit it.

“Yes. I’ve started therapy with the doctor, and he thinks I’ll be pretty much back to normal in a few weeks.”

“Pity. Father would find your chair amusing.”

Zuko just smiles. “I’m sure he would. Do you find it amusing?”

“Of course. Watching your peasant roll you around is like watching Ty Lee in the circus.”

“Sokka,” Zuko murmurs. “Please call him Sokka.”

Azula’s eyes dart to Sokka’s, narrow and conniving. But after a beat, they return to normal. She doesn’t reply.

Zuko finishes brushing her hair in silence, and then he works on pulling it and tying it back from her face. It’s a bit awkward from the angle he’s at in the chair, but he manages.

“Sokka,” Azula starts, and Sokka decides he really doesn’t like how his name sounds in her mouth. It makes Zuko turn a little smile, though, so he lets it pass. “Do you actually have a job in the palace or do you just fuck my brother?”

Zuko freezes, eyes massive as he stares at Azula’s hair, and Sokka sputters. “I have a job,” he says. “I’m an advisor. And Zuko and I aren’t together like that.”

Azula looks unimpressed. Deadpan, she says, “And I’m the Fire Lord.” Before Sokka can complain further, she adds, “On what do you advise? How to devise and ruin stupid invasion plans?”

“Hey,” Sokka says. “The plan was good, there were just… unexpected hiccups.”

“A good plan accounts for all possible ‘hiccups.’”

Sokka’s blink is slow and unkind. “I guess that’s why you couldn’t stop Zuko and I from escaping Boiling Rock.”

Zuko hisses and shoots Sokka a look, and Sokka sinks in his seat a little. Yeah, bringing up Mai and Ty Lee’s betrayal may have been a bit of a low blow. But it’s Azula, and her entire thing is low blows.

Zuko’s concern turns out to be unwarranted.

Azula smiles.

“ZuZu,” she says, and he hums. “Bring him next time, too, would you?”

Zuko leans back, finished with Azula’s hair. If it weren’t for her hollow cheeks and eyes, and the way some of the hair is choppier than it should be, she’d almost look like her old self again. “Okay,” Zuko says.

“Why?” Sokka asks. “Do I get any say in this?”

“No,” the siblings say at the same time. Zuko is almost grinning.

“You’re coming because I want you here,” Azula states, as if that actually explains anything.

Sokka throws his hands up, about to argue some more, but then he catches the way Zuko is looking at Azula.

He’s hopeful. And he’s radiating with it. If Azula noticed he’s looking at her like that, she’d probably breathe fire at him in an instant. She doesn’t notice, though, because she’s still watching Sokka.

He shrivels under her piercing eyes. “Fine,” he says. There’s no point in arguing when Zuko looks like that.

.

Six weeks later, Sokka helps Azula out of her cuffs and chains while Zuko, standing behind her, brushes her hair.

.

The next time the whole gang is back together is the two year anniversary of the end of the war. Even Iroh is here, swiftly highjacking Zuko for a stroll in the courtyard while Aang and Katara catch everyone up on their adventures. They look different. Suki looks different. Toph looks—well, mostly the same, to be honest. Sokka wonders how different he and Zuko must look, too.

It’s a while before Zuko and Iroh come back, and then they make their way to the informal dining room for dinner. It’s less stuffy in here. It’s where Zuko and Sokka usually eat, often surrounded by paperwork and scattered cups of tea. The large, open windows along one wall make it seem centuries apart from the palace they’d broken into during the invasion.

When Zuko sits beside Sokka, he bumps their shoulders together and doesn’t move away.

“Oh,” Suki says from the other side of the table. She takes a cup of tea from Iroh before saying, “Sokka, you really are taller than Zuko now.”

Sokka shoots her a warning glare while Zuko pouts.

Suki’s smile is devilish and concerning. The others look on with curiosity. “You know, back when we were dating, Sokka used to go on and on about how tall you were.”

“What?” Zuko says, and he frowns down at Sokka, who is slouching deeper and deeper into his chair. Iroh places their teacups in front of them, not bothering with trying to hand them off. “We were the same height,” Zuko continues. Then, catching himself, he peers back at Suki. “Wait, what do you mean ‘back when you were dating?’”

Sokka chokes on a sip of tea. Suki gasps. “Sokka, please tell me you didn’t forget to mention to Zuko that we broke up last year.”

“Last year?” Zuko gasps too.

Toph is snickering somewhere to Sokka’s left, and Iroh chuckles.

“It never really came up,” Sokka says, rubbing at his neck.

“Spirits, Sokka,” Zuko says, and he slouches too. “I could’ve… comforted you, or something.”

“Or something,” Suki says.

Katara snorts. “Oh, yeah, Zuko. You’re really good at the comforting.”

“That’s not fair,” Aang says. “Zuko’s comforted me plenty of times.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Toph laughs. “It’ll go right to his head.”

Sokka elbows Zuko. “Remember when I told you about the most tragic experience of my young little love life, and all you had to say was ‘that’s rough, buddy?’”

“Don’t tell them that,” Zuko whines, parroting Toph, but it’s too late—everyone is laughing.

“Or when you tried to cheer me up at Boiling Rock by rambling about clouds being sandwiches?”

Zuko faults through his own sudden laughter. “Knock it off!”

It’s nice, having everyone back. Nice is probably an understatement. Sokka feels safe and at home, and he only wishes he could work up the courage to take Zuko’s hand.

.

“You’re not actually telling me you put a braid. A Water Tribe braid. In Azula’s hair.”

“He is, Katara,” Zuko grins. “He is.”

.

The anniversary festival is rambunctious and extravagant and loud and beautiful. They go after dark, when the streets are lit by thousands and thousands of tiny flames that are supposed to represent lives lost across the nations. A hundred years. Hundreds of thousands dead. But here, now, finally behind them, everyone is paying their respects. With beaded necklaces and booze, of course.

Zuko somehow manages to knock an entire family over, a family of five, and they’re a tangle of bodies on the ground with Sokka pointing and laughing over them, and Zuko’s hood fell down in the debacle, and the family is also pointing and laughing with their Firelord.

A little later, a gaggle of children run up to him for hugs. People want to shake his hand, bow to him, thank him.

He looks a bit overwhelmed, but pleased nonetheless. The gang beams.

.

And then Suki blows it.

They’re in a tavern, stuffed in a corner booth where people won’t notice or bother them. Zuko takes another shot of fire spirits while Sokka sips some fruity, yellow drink. It has a little umbrella in it. Zuko steals the umbrella. Sokka and Zuko lean heavily on each other, punch drunk and tingly, their bodies loosened by the alcohol in their bloodstreams.

“It’s good to see you’ve finally chilled out around Zuko, Sokka,” Suki says.

“Wha’do you mean?” he asks.

She cackles, leaning forward and hitting the table like it’s a drum. She’s also been taking spirit shots. “I mean, you don’t get all ‘wah, he’s so tall and sweaty and shirtless’ anymore.”

“Tall and sweaty and shirtless?” Aang repeats, looking a bit like an amused urchin-owl.

Katara is laughing. Zuko just says, “…Sweaty?”

Toph barks. “Yes! It was all fun and games until Snoozles started having heart attacks.”

“…Heart attacks?”

“Ignore them,” Sokka says, and he pats Zuko’s head. Zuko’s eyes sink shut like Momo’s do when he gets pets. “They’re talking about before I trusted you.”

Toph snorts. “No.”

Katara butts in. “You were so obvious! It was hilarious. Suki told me about the whole tent thing.”

“…Tent thing?”

“Ignore her,” Sokka says, his tone hardening a little.

The others don’t notice.

Aang asks, “What was obvious?”

Suki fills him in. “Sokka’s little crush.” She clasps her hands together and looks up dreamily, putting on an affected voice. “He’s just so tall! Have you seen him breathe fire?”

“Please stop,” Sokka tries, but everyone just laughs again, even Aang, now. Everyone, except Zuko, who has tensed up against Sokka’s side.

“Oh,” he says. And he turns to look at Sokka.

Sokka rushes to explain. “It’s—it was nothing, really. And I got over it pretty quick. I just—it was purely aesthetic. Like, visually, you look good. Or, uh, you used to, I mean. But I’m over it. You have, like, long hair now, and your shoulders are wider and stuff. And I’m totally over it.”

“Oh,” Zuko says again, facing forward again.

No one else notices in their drunken stupors, but he doesn’t speak for the rest of the night.

.

And Sokka is being ignored again.

.

He’s tired of it. He barges into Zuko’s room about a week later, days after the gang has left, and corners Zuko at his vanity.

“We need to talk,” he says.

“…Okay,” Zuko says, quiet as ever.

“I wish—I really wish the others hadn’t brought that up. It doesn’t have to—it shouldn’t mean anything. It was a long time ago. And if it counts for anything, I’m sorry about it now.”

Zuko turns back to his mirror, staring at himself. His fingers brush at the bottom of his scar. “Okay,” he repeats. “You don’t have to apologize.”

Sokka nods. “Okay,” he says too.

Zuko picks up a comb. “I’m about to go to bed,” he says.

“Alright. I’ll… I’ll just leave then.”

He says goodnight and tries not to think about how clearly he’d just been dismissed.

.

Zuko tells him the next day that he’d like to visit Azula alone. Another dismissal.

.

It feels just like the last time. But it’s not, because Sokka actually apologized this time. He doesn’t know what more to do. His instincts tell him to leave again, to take off somewhere, but his instincts have often been wrong. So he just lingers, in his room, in hallways, in the informal dining room Zuko doesn’t join him in anymore. It’s lonely. It’s awful. And he can’t deal with how directly he’d killed any chances of getting closer to Zuko.

He’s always known his attraction wouldn’t go anywhere. He’s long accepted it, even. His crush is a shard from something broken years ago, by telling Suki he would never.

They’re split up now, he doesn’t have to keep Zuko at arm’s length anymore, he doesn’t have to stutter and stumble every time he sees Zuko with his hair down, he doesn’t have to anything.

But the thought is still there. That it can never happen for this or that reason.

Of course, the obvious reason is that they’re friends. Zuko likes women. Zuko doesn’t want it to happen.

He’d just really thought that, since Zuko had overturned the Fire Nation’s marriage and discrimination acts, Zuko would be more cool with the whole thing than he obviously is.

.

A week passes, and the next time Zuko goes by himself to see Azula, Sokka goes to his chambers again. There aren’t guards there, since Zuko’s not there, but it’s locked, but Sokka has the key.

He’s not sure why he goes in. Maybe because it’s been so long, because it used to be such a staple in his life to lounge around with his friend here. All he knows is that he’s tracing his fingers along Zuko’s things, a light touch that feels like intrusion. Because now, it is intrusion.

On Zuko’s desk, peeking out from under a few scrolls and letters: a painting. He pulls it out carefully. The parchment has yellowed somewhat, but the colors are as vibrant as ever. Sokka hasn’t seen it since it was made.

Ty Lee, Suki, him, all in the full Kyoshi Warrior get ups. And Zuko not only kept it, but keeps it on his desk.

Sokka swallows back the well of… something that builds in his throat. It’s devastating, somehow, this pain of missing someone. He clutches at the edges of the paper and fights a tremor.

It’s not fair.

He doesn’t know what he did wrong, and he can’t bring himself to ask for fear of the worst.

So he just grips at the painting and crawls into Zuko’s bed, burying his face in a pillow and inhaling the scent there. Jasmine, fire lilies, smoke.

.

He wakes with a start. Someone had said his name.

“Huh?” he sits up.

Zuko is at the foot of the bed, his expression one of concern. “What are you doing here?”

“Here? Where?” Oh, right. “Crap. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I’ll go.”

“Sokka, wait.”

“It’s alright, really. I’ll just be on my way!” He scoots off the bed, knocking the painting to the floor in the process. “Oops, this is—yours apparently.” He places it back on the bed and gives it an awkward pat before making towards the door.

“No, I—” Zuko says, “I want to talk to you. Can we talk?”

Sokka squeezes his eyes shut and freezes. Then he spins on his heel and puts on what he hopes is a convincing smile. It’s not. “About what? What’s there even to talk about? We’re cool. Super cool.” Then go the finger guns. Spirits, he’s awful.

“Can you sit?” Zuko asks, and it sounds a lot like “are you capable of sitting right now, you absolute freak?”

Sokka bites his tongue and nods, and the two of them sit at the end of the bed.

“So what’s up?” Sokka asks, then winces again.

“I just wanted to apologize. For how I’ve been treating you.”

“Oh, that’s okay. It’s not a big deal.”

Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose. “No, it is. I’ve been… rude. It’s not good of me to shun you whenever I get uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortable. Sokka makes Zuko uncomfortable.

“Azula said—”

“Azula said?” Sokka cuts, no idea where this could be going.

Zuko blazes on, like taking advice from Azula isn’t completely deranged. “Azula said I’m being a coward. That I… that I can’t just throw you away.”

Sokka swallows. “Do you want to throw me away?”

“No,” Zuko says, then makes a frustrated noise. “I want things to be like they were before. And I’m—I’m so sorry I messed that up.”

Zuko’s eyes are glittering with wetness. His voice is thick with it, too.

Sokka hates it. He pulls Zuko into a hug, head resting on his shoulder. “You didn’t mess it up,” he says.

“I just want you to know,” Zuko says, and yeah, he’s definitely on the verge of tears, “that I don’t care that you used to have a crush on me. I don’t care that you’re over me now. I just want to be friends again.”

Sokka nods, his chin rutting against Zuko’s robes. “Me too,” he says. And that’s that.

.

Mai visits. Sokka stays away. Zuko knocks on his door in the middle of the night, and Sokka holds him while he cries on the floor.

“She broke up with you?” Sokka asks into his hair.

Zuko flinches. “We broke up two years ago.”

“So then why…?”

Zuko untangles himself from Sokka, gets up and paces for a minute. “She wanted to give things another shot. I said no, and she was…” He stops pacing, then, and stares at Sokka’s unmade bed.

“I’m gay,” he says.

“Oh,” Sokka says.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko says.

It hurts.

For all the hours they spend together that night, Sokka still feels like he doesn’t say enough.

.

Zuko avoids him again afterwards, but it’s only for two days. Then he invites him to visit Azula and all is back to normal.

“You’re both fools,” Azula says, and a blue flame dances up and down her knuckles like a coin trick. Sokka isn’t as scared of it as he used to be.

“And why’s that?” Sokka asks, watching as Zuko shoots Azula a hard look.

She smirks at him, then turns to Sokka. “For visiting me, when you could be doing… various other things.”

Zuko goes to respond, but Sokka beats him to it. “We’re not wasting our time, Azula.”

She stares at him, her face blank, and then abruptly looks away. Her hair hides her face. Sokka wonders what expression is hidden, as well. He puts his hand on hers, and she draws hers back.

“Please leave,” she says.

They do.

.

“You look good in the makeup,” Zuko says one night, looking over the Kyoshi painting at his desk. “And in the Water Tribe war paint, too. I remember that.”

.

At breakfast, Sokka brushes a loose lock of hair behind Zuko’s ear. “It’s so long now,” he notes uselessly. Zuko smiles and hides his face behind his hand.

.

Zuko’s feeding the turtle-ducks. Sokka loves it here, and Zuko thinks it’s for the same reason Zuko loves it, but honestly Sokka couldn’t care less about the turtle-ducks. He just loves watching how calm Zuko becomes, how he stops frowning and worrying, how after he runs out of bread he’ll sometimes lay back on his elbows and soak up the sun.

Sokka leans against the tree trunk and watches. Zuko’s scar looks fainter, here, in the pinks of the sunset reflecting off the pond and off his skin. But it’s still very much there, and still very much a burn.

Zuko catches Sokka staring and blushes. “What is it?”

You’re beautiful, he wants to say. But he gulps that down and says instead, voice firm and ready, “Zuko, how’d you get that scar?”

Every inch of Zuko’s face and body closes off for a moment. But it is only a moment. Then he’s sighing, tilting his head and watching the turtle-ducks, pulling his hair from its top knot. Sokka watches him comb his fingers through it.

Zuko speaks, and Sokka listens. When he’s done, Sokka nods, and Zuko keeps watching the turtle-ducks. It’s peaceful. They retire to their rooms shortly after.

.

And Sokka hates. He lies awake in his bed and hates. He wishes Aang had overcome his stupid pacifism and just killed Ozai all those years ago. Preferably brutally and violently. He doesn’t deserve to live, even miserable and rotting in a prison cell.

Sokka remembers he was once repulsed by Zuko’s scar.

He hates himself for it.

.

Zuko takes Sokka to see a production of Love Amongst the Dragons. Sokka gasps when he recognizes the Blue Spirit, grinning and pointing excitedly. Zuko smiles and puts an arm around Sokka’s shoulders.

.

It’s year three since the end of the war. The gang can’t make it this time, so Sokka and Zuko take Azula instead. Zuko buys her a pair of earrings that she’d paused to look at. He buys Sokka a Blue Spirit replica mask.

“I wonder where he went,” Sokka says, pulling the mask up onto his head so he can see better.

“You are a fool,” Azula says, and she picks a piece of fuzz from Sokka’s shirt.

“You always say that,” Sokka says, watching Zuko thumb through a pile of play scripts. “But you’re the one in a cell, deemed clinically insane.”

She smiles. It’s unkind, but Sokka has come to realize that doesn’t mean she really means it to be. “If ZuZu dies, I’m Firelord. You should be smarter and watch your tongue.”

“If ZuZu—eugh—if Zuko dies, I’ll know who did it. Between the two of us, I’m more likely to be Firelord than you are.”

Zuko glares at them both. “Neither of you will ever be the Firelord. Now stop planning for my death, please. We’re celebrating.”

“No,” Sokka says. “We’re waiting for you to stop being boring about theatre.”

“You like theatre,” Zuko counters.

“But I’m not boring about it.”

“You’re both boring,” Azula sighs.

Sokka snaps out a smile. “Then why do you put up with us, hmm?”

He considers it a victory when she declines to respond.

.

Later that evening, when Azula has returned to her facility and Sokka is lying in bed, half asleep beside Zuko, he thinks he hears Zuko whisper something.

“What?” Sokka mumbles.

There’s a pause. “You’re awake?”

“No.” Another pause. “What’d you say?”

“What’d I say when?”

“Before.”

“Before when?”

Sokka groans and rolls away.

.

Sokka visits Katara and Aang in the South Pole. The Southern Water Tribe has already changed so much. He can barely recognize it. And he can barely recognize all the little children he’d so desperately tried to turn into warriors. He’s happy for all of them, though. And he’s glad when he gets to hug his dad again, and tell him about all the changes they’ve made in the Fire Nation. And he’s glad when Aang asks about how to make a betrothal necklace. And he’s glad when Katara separately asks him if he knows anything about Air Nomad proposals (“Why would I know that?”).

They’re young, so young, still, but he thinks that maybe that’s okay. They can be young, and in love, and have whole happy lives ahead of them, happy lives that they’ll spend together. And if they want to get married already, Sokka isn’t going to be the one who tells them no.

Above all, though, he’s glad when he gets to go back home. To the palace, and to Zuko.

.

Zuko is dead asleep when Sokka gets back and sneaks into his room.

He tries to be subtle as he pulls back the covers, but Zuko rolls over to look at him through squinty, sleepy eyes.

“Sokka?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s me. Go back to sleep.”

He hums, then. “You’re even prettier than I remember.”

Sokka pauses, one leg under the covers and one still on the floor, but Zuko is already breathing deep in that sleep-weary way again. Huh, Sokka thinks, and he looks Zuko over.

He’s kind of prettier than Sokka remembered, too.

Sokka climbs the rest of the way into bed, and smiles when Zuko rolls to lay against him. He puts a hand on Zuko’s chest and feels his heartbeat there. Steady, calm, safe.

.

“Sokka, you are an idiot. ZuZu, you are an idiot. Get it over with already.”

“Get what over with?”

“You are fools.”

.

Azula is released and allowed to move back into the palace under the watch of guards and nurses. When Zuko and Sokka take her to her old room, she asks, “Can I have a different one?” And Sokka’s never heard her sound so, so vulnerable.

She ends up spending a lot of time in Zuko’s room, just like Sokka. Hair untethered and eyes always watching. But there’s something softer in those eyes, now, especially when she watches Zuko.

She catches Sokka staring at her. “What, peasant?”

It doesn’t sound cruel anymore. Sokka and Zuko crack up laughing, and, after a moment, Azula dares a small laugh, too.

.

“You’ve done well with her,” Sokka murmurs, his arms looped around Zuko’s waist.

“So have you,” Zuko whispers, and Sokka can feel his breath against his neck. Zuko’s hands trail up Sokka’s chest and stop at the crook between his shoulders and neck.

They’re just outside Zuko’s chambers. Azula is inside—Sokka is going back to his own room for the night. Guards stand stoically nearby.

Sokka breathes out a laugh. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were tall.”

Zuko scowls and drops his head. “It’s not like I’m short. It’s just… comparative. I don’t know how you grew so fast. It’s freakish.”

“Mhm,” Sokka says, his lips close to Zuko’s scarred ear. He knows he can still hear with it, though. Not as well, but he’s not deaf. The canal is still in tact; it’s just the skin around it that’s melted over. “You keep telling yourself that.”

“Goodnight, peasant,” Zuko says lightly, lifting his head again to briefly press his cheek to Sokka’s.

“You’re not allowed to start calling me that again. Or I’ll be forced to bring back boomerang.”

“Goodnight, boomerang boy,” Zuko says instead, pulling out of Sokka’s grip.

“Azula’s a bad influence on you. Goodnight, Scorchmark.”

.

“No, he’s the Blue Spirit, dumdum.”

“Wha…?”

“Don’t forget what I told you, Sokka. Azula always lies.”

.

Suki visits with Ty Lee. When she thinks Sokka isn’t looking, Ty Lee waves back and forth between him and Zuko, looking aghast at Suki. Suki just shakes her head with a disappointed sigh.

“How?” Ty Lee gasps.

“They’re fools,” Azula fills in.

.

“Sokka?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you dated anyone since Suki?”

“Nah.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t really get out much. Spend too much time with you.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Pssh. It’s fine.”

“…Okay.”

“…Yeah.”

.

At the Jasmine Dragon, Iroh pulls Sokka out to go for a walk.

“You know, Sokka,” he says, “they say the cucumber-apple-grape only gets sweeter on its vine. But even it can overripen and become sour.”

“That’s… cool.”

Iroh smiles at him, pausing their walk and taking him by the shoulder. “My nephew was never much one for proverbs and metaphors, either, despite his interest in theatre. I’m just saying: if there’s something you’ve been wishing to do for a long time, it comes to the point where sooner is better than never.”

Sokka frowns.”So I need to… find a cucumber-apple-grape?”

Iroh chuckles and pats his arm. “Dear boy, you’ve already found one.”

He goes back into the tea shop much more confused than when he left.

.

Iroh is trying to teach Azula how to make tea. She stays quiet the whole time, following his directions.

Katara is glaring. Even Aang still looks distinctly uncomfortable, despite Zuko and Sokka’s reassurances.

Toph thinks it’s hilarious. Suki isn’t here.

When Azula breaks a teacup, she begins to cry. Iroh holds her to his chest, and she lets him.

.

“It all started here,” Sokka says dramatically. “Once upon a time—”

“It started at the South Pole, idiot,” Zuko interrupts.

Sokka shakes his head and shoves a piece of rat-vulture jerky into his mouth. “Not what I meant,” he garbles as he chews.

They’re on a gondola, sweeping down over the lake of Boiling Rock. It’s a surprise visit—they don’t want the new Warden to know they’re coming and have time to prepare. They want to see for themselves if conditions have improved.

“Then what,” Zuko says, “my ability to deal with your endless stupidity?”

“So mean today!” Sokka grins. “Did Azula steal your hairbrush again?” 


Zuko grumbles incoherently and leans against the railing to watch the prison slowly crawl closer. Sokka just stares at him like he so often does, wondering how someone’s cheekbones can possibly look like that.

“Western Air Temple,” Zuko says eventually.

“What about it?”

“That’s where it started.”

“Eh, yeah. Probably.”

“Or the war balloon.”

“What happened on the war balloon?”

Zuko looks over. His eyes, unreadable, trip down Sokka’s form for a second before landing back on his face. His lips are set in a firm line. “Nothing,” he says, but he waited too long.

“Nuh-uh. Tell me.”

“Well, what happened here?” Zuko deflects.

Sokka rolls his eyes. “I finally came to trust you completely. Duh.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I was thinking of something else.”

Sokka frowns and thinks back. “Something else on the war balloon?”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna tell me what it was?”

Zuko smiles, effortless and beautiful. “Nope,” he says, and when Sokka huffs a complaint, his smile only grows wider.

The conditions in the prison have certainly improved, but there are areas they could still be better. Zuko writes out a report with demands and delivers it to the Warden on their way out.

“Should we climb on top, for old times’ sake?” Sokka asks as they get back in the gondola.

“Fall in the lake,” Zuko suggests by way of reply.

When they reach the other side, Zuko says, “Hey. We should go.” He’s staring out at the sea with a faraway look in his eyes, but there’s determination there, too.

“Isn’t that… what we’re trying to do? Right now? Get off the volcano?”

“No, I mean—we should go to the Western Air Temple. I wouldn’t mind seeing it again.”

And how could Sokka resist those molten-gold eyes, trained so fervently right at him?

“I’d like that,” he says.

.

The temple is as haunting as ever, as ethereal as ever. And seeing Zuko there again, standing on one of the cliff edges and staring out at the view, is just as haunting, just as ethereal. He remembers Zuko—smaller then, reedier, but Sokka had been too—after he’d come back from his Sun Warrior adventure, looking newly alive, and all Sokka’s tiny undeveloped brain could squeak out about it was Tall!

But Sokka has grown since then, mentally and emotionally besides just physically. So, so much, with the help of Suki, and Katara, and Aang and Toph and, spirits be damned, Azula—

And Zuko.

Regal as ever, gentler than ever, haunting, ethereal.

Tall.

Zuko turns and sees Sokka watching. He walks over, takes Sokka’s hands into his own, and they look at each other.

“The war balloon,” Zuko whispers. “That’s where I first, um—felt—”

Sokka nods and steps closer. They rest their cheeks together, as they often do, feeling their skin against skin and hearing each other’s breath at their ears.

“I lied about being over it,” Sokka supplies.

Zuko chuffs. “That really hurt, you know.”

Sokka tilts his head. His lips graze the corner of Zuko’s mouth. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

“This is, um,” Zuko starts, tilting a little too. Sokka can feel every movement on his mouth as Zuko speaks, and it’s electrifying. “You want this?”

Sokka shudders a breath. “Yes. You want this?”

“Yes.”

And they’re finally kissing, and it’s uncoordinated and neither of them can seem to find the other’s rhythm, because they might know each other better than anyone else, but they don’t know this. Sokka knocks his teeth against Zuko’s, and they both laugh and pull away a little. Sokka’s palm is on the back of Zuko’s neck, tugging at the hair hanging there. And they just search each other’s eyes and faces for complaints or regrets and find none, and Zuko smiles again and puts his forehead to Sokka’s. Sokka’s stomach swoops in his abdomen, and they’re kissing again, and it’s still uncoordinated, but neither of them give a damn.

.

Uncoordinated doesn’t even begin to cover the rest. They want, near desperately, to get into bed when they get back, but Azula is in Zuko’s room, watching them intensely, and when they announce they’re going to stay in Sokka’s, she likewise announces that she will follow. Eventually, they admit defeat and separate for the night.

And then Azula is everywhere.

They can’t even find someplace to kiss again without her barging in, let alone someplace to do more. “Can we send her back to the facility?” Sokka groans after the third time.

It isn’t until four days later that her reasoning becomes clear. She’s been waiting until she can slip from her guards.

Sokka wakes in the middle of the night to his door slamming shut and to complete darkness. He blinks, trying to get his eyes to adjust, to little avail.

“Hello?” he croaks.

“Sokka,” Azula says from the foot of his bed. He scrambles into a sitting position and pulls his blankets up under his arms.

“Azula—what are you doing here?” He tries to sound chipper, upbeat, even daring half of a chuckle, but he’s sure she can hear the fear seeping into his voice. Azula’s never snuck into his room before. He prays she’s not having one of her episodes. And, spirits, where in the world are her guards?

A flame forms in her hand with a burst, casting an eerie blue light across one side of her face. Sokka shields his eyes from the sudden brightness but decides he needs to be able to see her in case she springs on him. She’s not smiling. Her hair is down and a little ragged.

“Have you ever heard of the box-jelly-viper, Sokka?”

He swallows. “Uh, no?”

She nods slowly, considering. “They’re very, very rare. Apparently they live in Chameleon Bay.”

“Okay?”

She smiles. “They’re the most venomous creatures in the world. It’s said that one bite, or one sting, could kill fifty men.”

“Sounds… dangerous.”

“They are. It’s a good thing they’re so far away, don’t you think?”

“Yes?”

Her smile goes sour and poisonous. “I'm a bit closer to home, aren’t I?”

“Azula?” Sokka grips at his bedding, eyes turning to his bed table for something he could defend himself with if need be. Right now, he thinks his best bet might be a pillow.

The blue fire dances and flickers taller. “How many people do you think the rare box-jelly-viper has killed in the past, oh, I don’t know… five years?”

“Not sure,” Sokka says, and he snatches a pillow and holds it over his chest like a shield.

“A surprisingly small amount, considering how lethal they are. I’ve killed probably three times as many.”

Sokka swallows. “Are you going to kill me?”

Azula snatches her hand shut and the fire goes out, plunging the room back into darkness.

When Azula replies, she’s already halfway to the door. “Only if you hurt my brother,” she says. Her voice holds no more poison—Sokka thinks, as the door opens and he watches her slip out, that she’d sounded rather like a small, frightened child. And as he lets go of the pillow and takes a deep breath, he smiles for her.

.

“I mean it, it was the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced, and the maids are very lucky I didn’t wet the bed, but hey, if that’s what it took to get her to leave us alone? Then it’s alright with me.”

Zuko kisses Sokka’s cheek, multiple times as he makes his way to his mouth. “Thank you,” he says when he gets there.

“For what?”

“For giving her a chance.”

Sokka grips the fabric at Zuko’s hips. “Well, giving you one turned out pretty well, hm?”

After another peck, Zuko says, “Please don’t kiss my sister,” and they’re laughing as they stumble to Zuko’s bed, mouths connected all the while.

.

No, uncoordinated doesn’t cover it at all. But after some confusion and a few mishaps involving teeth, they both end the night more than satisfied, giddy and smiling and sweat-chilled where their naked skin is exposed to the crisp air brought in by a breeze.

Sokka says, “You sucked at that.”

Zuko frowns. “What? Hey. I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

Sokka pokes him in the ribs, earning a squawk. “You ‘sucked’ at that,” he stresses. “Get it? ‘Sucked?’”

Zuko pushes him off the bed.

.

On the fourth anniversary of the end of the war, Zuko and Sokka announce their relationship to the gathered gang. Zuko is relieved, but Sokka is very, very bitter, when no one responds with anything but “Finally” and “About time.”

Well, almost. Toph asks, “Does this mean you’re going to be Firelord too?”

And Azula threatens her with a boiling blue fireball. “Neither me nor Sokka will ever be Firelord.”

Zuko had told them that exactly a year ago at this very same festival. Sokka puts an arm around both of their shoulders and squeezes. Zuko leans into it. Azula knocks them both to the ground. The gang points and laughs, and so does she.

Sokka and Zuko look at each other, and there is not a single thing that seems out of place.