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Sokka tossed and turned upon the giant bed in the room he shared with Aang. Dim moonlight reflected off the ocean and into the window, but the house on Ember Island was too big, too long uninhabited, too solid to be comfortable. He could tell from the position Yue held in the sky that it was past midnight; Aang should have joined him in their quarters by now, but Sokka understood the boy was having a bit of an identity crisis in the days preceding the comet. The information Zuko has shared earlier that day was ruminating in his mind in the early hours of the morning. Sokka wondered absently if anyone else in the Gaang was awake with racing thoughts, or if they rested easily, trusting in his plans.
He rolled over once more, squeezing his eyes shut against the onslaught of predawn anxieties, when he heard a floorboard creak in the old hallway. He bolted up, unsheathing Space Sword above his head, eyes darting toward the door as his heart raced. The door opened on squeaky hinges and a slender figure stepped into the room.
“Hey.” Sokka’s body recognized the phantom’s movements before his brain registered the breathy voice of his friend and host. He exhaled in relief as his posture slouched and he returned his sword to its scabbard. Reclining back onto a pile of dusty pillows, he stared at the ceiling.
“Sure is some place you’ve got here.” He replied, turning to look at Zuko in the streaming moonlight.
“Thanks,” Zuko hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “I haven’t been sleeping well.” He admitted flatly. Zuko had chosen to use his old room far down the hall, while relegating two of the guest rooms to the younger boys and girls. Though he’d stayed in that room dozens of times before, it was a long time ago, when his family was happy, and the context was very, very different. Now, he was confident no one would look for them here, but with the comet racing closer, and knowledge of his father’s plan for further genocide, there was too much on his mind for it to permit him to sleep as he had when he was a child.
“Yeah, me neither. Aang still hasn’t returned from meditating.” Sokka scooted out of the middle of the bed, leaving some of the faded red pillows behind him. “I guess he’s sleeping on the balcony tonight.”
Zuko walked over and sat down, taking off his slippers. “He needs time to sort it out by himself.” Sometimes, Sokka thought he detected a bit of Uncle Iroh’s wisdom in Zuko. Both boys relaxed a little when the fire bender took Aang’s place under the covers. If they were going to be awake agonizing over what-ifs and impossible strategies, they might as well rest in each other’s company. It had been too long since Zuko had had easy company to enjoy, outside of his Uncle, and it was nice to finally have a real friend.
“I’m really glad you’re good now.” Sokka whispered. He was still facing the windows with his back to his friend, but hesitatingly, he creeped his fingers out behind him, searching for a hand to hold.
“Me too,” Zuko replied quietly, intertwining his fingers with Sokka’s. “It took me a while to figure it out, but I know now that my destiny is here,” he scooted closer and added, “with you.” Tentatively, he draped his arm around the other, as though he’d never spooned with someone before. In an instant, Sokka rolled over, burying his face in Zuko’s chest and clinging on to him with both arms. The awkward teen pulled back for a second, in surprise, but quickly returned the embrace with equal intensity.
Sokka began to tremble. Zuko hoped it was from laughter, but even his inexperience with emotions told him that was not likely. He pulled back again, slowly this time, not wanting to give the impression that he was withdrawing. He placed a finger under his friend’s chin and gently tilted his head up till teary eyes met his own. “It’s just, I’ve had to be the leader for so long and I’m not even a bender, I’m nobody! Just a lonely water tribe boy playing warrior. And the invasion failed and now the comet is almost here and we aren’t ready and Aang’s falling apart and I can’t help him! And I can’t protect them and I can’t protect us.” He sniffled, wiping his nose. In the darkness, he looked very much like a child. Zuko remembered how young he was, how young they all were, and that ancient anger burned in his chest. He steadied his breathing; anger was not useful to him here.
“That’s not true.” He stated firmly. “That may have been true when you were small, when your mom died, and when your dad went to war. But I’ve seen how much you’ve grown. How much you’ve all grown, even in the past year. You ARE a warrior now. A competent one. Aang’s going to figure out what to do with my father. You’re going to craft a brilliant plan. Tomorrow. For now, we need to rest.” And he pulled the calming boy closer to him, smelling the ocean in his hair.
Sokka rubbed Zuko’s back through his silk tunic, tracing little circles over the garment with his fingers. He was grateful for the opportunity to let his guard down for a moment, but he remembered that his companion had been wearing an even heavier facade for just as long.
“Are you scared?” He asked quietly, hoping against hope that he wasn’t overstepping.
“Shit, Sokka, I’m always scared.” Zuko remembered that the group didn’t know all of the atrocities his father had committed, at least not the one that affected him most personally. For a moment he considered confiding in Sokka, but ultimately decided against that. He wasn’t ready for them all to know, and it wouldn’t be fair to ask their leader to keep it a secret. He sighed and continued, “you just have to keep moving forward. Through your fear. Uncle says that’s what makes you brave.”
They snuggled in silence, listening to the waves lapping the beach, and the summer breeze on the windows.
“Are you scared right now?” Feeling shy for the first time in maybe forever, Sokka almost couldn’t hear himself speak.
“No,” Zuko replied, matching his volume, “not like that. Never with you.”
Sokka held his breath, still questioning somehow whether they were really on the same page. So much had changed in the last few weeks. Most of it, he could joke about openly with the others. But with Zuko’s switch to their side, a part of Sokka himself had changed, something more significant than any of his friends could guess.
He considered for a moment just how much of their pairing could be credited to simple statistics. The phrase “trauma bonds” crossed his mind. Then, the obvious obstacles to any sort of long term relationship began lining themselves up in his imagination, one after another.
Suddenly, the chatter in his brain fell silent as he noticed the soft pressure of Zuko’s lips on his forehead. He opened his eyes and looked up at the other’s, registering the unquestionable affection he found there. Physically, the touch brought him comfort; psychologically, it brought permission. Quickly, Sokka moved to close the space between Zuko’s waiting mouth, and his own. Their lips parted in unison and immediately, they were grasping for each other.
It was as much of a release of intensifying tension as it was a culmination of deepening desire. But at least they were able to sleep. And when Zuko rose with the sun, there was an understanding between them. Sokka squeezed his hand as his best friend left the bed, himself rising shortly thereafter to pack Appa. They left the room as it was. No sense in making the bed on the eve of the end of the world.
And maybe, if the world didn’t end, and Zuko became firelord and everything changed yet again, maybe someday he’d return to this place, after the servants had washed the sheets and all evidence of disarray was gone, and maybe once again, he’d be able to sleep through the night.