Work Text:
Zuko’s night was Hell on Earth. He had been working on his final economics paper for the last three hours, with little progress. He didn’t know why it was suddenly of the utmost importance for him to be well-versed on governmental budget deficits. It’s not like he cared.
Zuko would have much rather been with his friends. Aang, Katara, Sokka, Suki, and Toph were all hanging out at Mai and Ty Lee’s apartment, celebrating the end of their finals. They were only a few blocks away from where Zuko was now, lamenting his procrastination. But to get the GPA he wanted, Zuko needed an A in his Macro class. With a sigh, the boy resigned himself to staring at the blinking cursor on his screen yet again. It wasn’t hard for him to get into the groove of writing once he set his mind to it. Even though he hated econ with a passion, he was good at it.
He wasn’t sure how much time had past when he heard the front door to his apartment open, followed by a loud thud.
“Owwww,” he heard Sokka, his roommate and best friend, whine.
Zuko walked into the living room to see what the commotion was, only to find Sokka sitting on the floor, giggling to himself. When the other boy noticed Zuko, his face lit up. Zuko tried not to read into the dopey expression his friend was giving him. Sokka was just happy to see his friend, that was all.
“Zuko!” the boy on the floor gasped. “I just, I just,” he couldn’t get through the sentence without silently laughing. “I just fell because I took my shoes off. You’re always telling me to put my shoes on the side. But I didn’t. So I fell. Isn’t that hilarious?”
His rambling was met with a fond eyeroll. “Suki got you high,” Zuko surmised.
“First of all, sir, how dare you. Second of all, it was Toph, obviously. Third of all, um,” Sokka trailed off, his mind becoming occupied with something other than finishing the sentence he started. Zuko sighed. His paper would have to wait another day.
There was a time when he would’ve left his friend sitting on the floor. He would’ve stormed off to stay up another four hours finishing his paper, ignoring Sokka the next morning as a punishment for interrupting him. These last few years had changed Zuko, though. His friends taught him what healthier habits looked like. They helped him unlearn the years of conditioning done by his father. They made sure he knew his worth as a person. Now, Zuko was still ambitious and hard-working, but he also would drop anything to help the people that he loved.
“Alright, buddy, c’mon,” Zuko said, stretching out his hand to yank Sokka up. Sokka seemed to realize that he had spaced out, and put his hand in Zuko’s. The gesture was so tender and light that Zuko had to fight his blush (a futile attempt — he just hoped his roommate wouldn’t notice). He forgot how pliant Sokka got after he smoked, so when he pulled the boy up, he fell right into his arms. The pair stumbled backwards, until Zuko regained his footing. He knew that there was no point in hiding the color in his cheeks that time. He wrapped his hand around Sokka's wrist, leading him to his bedroom, all while the boy chattered away about ‘Katara said this’ and ‘Aang told me that Haru told him,’ interrupting himself whenever the next thought occurred.
“You always take care of me, Zuko. Even when you have your own shit to do.” Sokka yawned and added, almost as an afterthought, “you’re pretty great, you know.”
Zuko loved that Sokka’s room was so clearly his. The walls were blue, like the ocean near where he grew up. There were textbooks and sticky notes with new invention ideas on every surface imaginable. Doodles on lined paper were strewn about the floor. His favorite navy blue hoodie, well-loved and a little ragged, was on the bed. Where Zuko was taught to not be seen or heard, Sokka was unabashedly himself: confident, caring, and not nearly as funny as he thinks he is. Zuko loved it.
After Sokka climbed into bed, Zuko made a few steps toward the door. He heard his friend clear his throat. He turned around as saw huge, blue, puppy-dog eyes — a little red but beautiful nonetheless — staring at him. Sokka knew that Zuko would always give into those eyes. The darker haired boy got in the bed, slightly shaking his head as he went. They did this sometimes, sharing a bed. They never did anything more than sleep (and, okay, cuddle a little). It started when Sokka learned that Zuko had nightmares. He didn’t like to talk about them, but he was pretty sure that Sokka knew they were about his scar. It happened again when Sokka hadn’t slept in three days. He was overworked and anxious and his brain wouldn’t shut up until Zuko forcibly made him sleep by laying right next to him. It happened a few more times after that. They never talked about it.
Sokka sighed contentedly when he felt the bed next to him dip. He turned to look at Zuko with an intensity that made Zuko bless the darkness in the room, because he was sure his face was so red it matched his scar.
“Zuko,” Sokka whispered conspiratorially, “your hair…”
“What about my hair?”
“It’s so… nice.”
“I, um. Thanks.” After a beat, he said, “Yours is nice too.”
“Can I...” Zuko wasn’t sure what his friend was getting at, so he just gave a small nod. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t let Sokka do, to be honest.
Sokka reached his hand up and brushed the bangs out of Zuko’s eyes. Then, he moved his hand further back, almost caressing the other boy.
"So soft. Like a polar bear dog or something,” he murmured, continuing to pet his friend’s hair.
“Sokka,” Zuko whispered back with a slight smile, “what are you doing?”
“I just…”
The pair began to lean their heads together, almost on instinct. Zuko saw Sokka glance down at his lips. I’m dreaming, he thought. His eyes fell closed and he felt chapped lips pressed to his right cheek. Then, his left, Sokka being mindful of the scar. Both corners of his mouth. After what seems like ages, the two boys’ lips met — a chaste, light kiss that felt like it threw the world off its axis.
Zuko pulled away minutely, opening his eyes to the boy in front of him. Sokka’s eyes were still closed, but the dopey grin from earlier was plastered on his face.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Sokka murmured. He fell asleep as soon as the sentence was finished.
That was okay by Zuko, though. If he was younger, more tightly-wound, angrier, he would’ve shaken the other boy awake and demanded they talk about what happened. Or, he would’ve run out of the room all-together. But he was different now. The people in his life — especially Sokka — had changed him for the better. He knew that they would have the whole morning to talk (and, hopefully, kiss). Tonight, he just wrapped his arm around Sokka, and drifted off.