Chapter Text
Years ago the back living room had been storage for the fledgling Jasmine Dragon. It still occasionally held shipments of new placemats or seasonal teas Uncle Iroh would rotate in and out of the store, but the overstuffed furniture and rickety television set ensured this room remained a living room and not an addition to the tea shop storage.
It took Zuko many years to appreciate the tea his uncle made, but far less to appreciate the smell though he wouldn’t readily admit to either. Gentle jasmine, soft oolong and bitter black were all scents he associated with his uncle, and each time he stepped into the house he considered to be his first home, he could feel a bit of the weight on his shoulders lift. It was part of the reason he always agreed to house sit for Uncle Iroh whenever he wanted to travel to visit old friends or find new teas -- which he had been doing with increasing regularity now that the teashop was well-established, and Zuko was comfortable running it.
“Popcorn is served,” Sokka emerged from the kitchen carrying the largest bowl in the house full to the brim with popcorn that appeared to have been saturated with butter, judging by the smell.
“I could have done that in three seconds,” Zuko teased, moving some baubles on the coffee table so Sokka could set the bowl down.
“What, and have to eat charred popcorn?” Sokka sat next to Zuko on the couch, popping a few pieces of buttery goodness into his mouth and grinning at the rather bemused firebender.
“I can cook.” Zuko scrolled through their list of ‘to-watch’ movies.
“Now you can, rich kid.”
“Uncle taught me-”
“Zuko, chill,” Sokka gently reminded Zuko he didn’t have to prove himself to him, though the discovery that at age sixteen Zuko had little idea of how to cook anything beyond a grilled cheese was still hilarious to Sokka.
Zuko rolled his eyes, and asked if Sokka wanted to watch anything in particular. After some back and forth on what constituted as a comedy, they decided on a title. The popcorn bowl started out on the table, but ended up on Sokka’s lap as the movie started. They were close enough on the small sofa - Uncle Iroh had yet to buy a piece of modern furniture - that Zuko had little trouble helping himself to popcorn.
He leaned back and focused on the movie. After many movie nights they had eventually come to the agreement they would watch something first to figure out what was going on, and then they’d tear it to shreds. However, if the media was truly stupid, shit-talking was fair game from the start. As most of what Sokka picked inevitably turned out to be something they could make fun of - it wasn’t long before Zuko was laughing at Sokka’s stream of commentary.
After one particularly terrible joke - “c’mon dude, she has like, the personality of a houseplant” - Zuko turned his head to hide his laughter. It was then he noticed that sometime during Sokka sitting down and the movie starting, he had rested his arm on the back of the couch. Bent at the elbow, hand hanging, it was almost as if Sokka had put his arm around Zuko.
Zuko felt heat rise in his cheeks. That was new. He tried to refocus on the movie, but he couldn’t help but glance over at Sokka.
“Okay, it’s not the actress’ fault, but at this point, why even include her? He’s so obviously into his best friend.” Sokka’s free hand gestured wildly at the tv.
“Careful,” Zuko reached over and steadied the popcorn bowl.
“I am careful,” Sokka grumbled, but he adjusted the way he was sitting so the bowl was nestled between his legs instead of setting on top.
Zuko hid a smile.
Sokka quieted down.
Normally he had no problem staying awake during movies, but he didn’t realize how much he relied on Sokka’s stream of commentary as he felt himself zoning out over the trivial plot. Zuko blamed the poor writing as he felt himself drifting. He’d just close his eyes for a minute.
Sokka hadn’t realized Zuko had fallen asleep until he felt Zuko’s head fall on his shoulder. He hummed a question, looking over as he felt the sudden weight. When he got no response he shifted a bit, leaning forward to get a look at Zuko’s face. His jaw dropped when he realized Zuko had, in fact, fallen asleep. Sokka stared.
He was tempted to wake Zuko, make a joke about how ‘rising with the sun’ meant falling asleep at Gran-Gran time, but something about the serene expression on Zuko’s face made the words die in his throat before they made it to his mouth.
Zuko’s lips parted slightly. Sokka felt his mouth go dry as he stared at his best friend’s mouth. His stomach twisted a bit; He tore his eyes away, and noticed dark strands of hair fell across Zuko’s pale eyelids, and Sokka was unable to resist the urge to sweep Zuko’s bangs back and tuck them behind an ear. His fingers ghosted across the rough skin that made up Zuko’s scar. Sokka held his breath, hoping Zuko wouldn’t wake - he hadn’t meant to touch him, and he took his treacherous hand back.
Zuko stirred - Sokka felt his heart in his throat - and let out a soft sigh, head turning more into Sokka’s shoulder. Seconds felt like minutes as Sokka watched him. He hesitantly wrapped his arm around Zuko’s shoulders. The other man was warm to the touch.
Sokka didn’t really finish the movie. Sure it continued to play in the background, but he only had eyes for a certain sleepy firebender.