Chapter Text
Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe is dead.
There was a funeral procession and everything. His friends and family, aunts and uncles, people he’d met once on his journeys and never quite forgot him. Katara in all black, crying onto Aang’s shoulders. Toph erecting a beautiful, perfectly carved headstone for his final resting place. Hakoda lowering an empty casket into the ground, never to see his only son again.
Except Sokka is still alive, and he was at the procession -- except, instead of a corpse wrapped in burial cloths, he was standing at the edge of the crowd trying desperately not to scream of frustration in his itchy, too-small Kyoshi Warrior’s robes.
Being fake-dead is frustrating. It’s pretty heart-wrenching to watch the people closest to you suffer as a direct consequence of your actions -- although, Sokka had to admit, it was a tiny bit satisfying to see how deeply his friends cared for him. Even worse, he couldn’t tease them for it. He just had to stand and look all sad and pretend he didn’t want to wipe off Suki’s stupid white makeup and yell, “It’s alright, everyone! I’m still here! And still super hot and manly!”
(Although, Sokka’s coming to find he isn’t totally opposed to the makeup. It actually makes him feel kind of mysterious and powerful and just a little too sexy for his liking.)
But despite the enormous part of him that wants to screw international politics and assasination plots and go back to his V-necks, Tui and La, the rational side of Sokka knows that after what happened in New Ba Sing Se, he needs to lay low and pretend to be dead a little longer.
So Sokka finds himself spending the better parts of his days standing outside palace doors and escorting high ranking officials around the Fire Nation’s capital city instead of, you know, actually helping restore peace to a very recently war-torn planet.
Luckily, Suki’s there to help him. Although their romance fizzled out pretty much as soon as they were no longer running from genocidal tyrants and brainwashed Royal siblings, Sokka still considers Suki one of his closest friends, and he genuinely cannot imagine how horrible this experience would be if she wasn’t with him.
“Any eights?”
“Go fish.”
This is how they’re spending their time, now. Waiting outside an official Fire Nation summit, playing cards on the marble floor in their uniforms like a couple of bored convicts. A few months ago, Sokka would have been inside that meeting, helping solve the plethora of issues that still plagued the Four Nations. Now, he’s been relegated to security guard status. At this point, he’s almost convinced being actually dead is preferable to this.
He falls dramatically backward, spreading his arms and letting the cards fall from his hand. “Can’t you be bad at anything? Lke, for once? Do you have to beat me at literally every single game we’ve ever played?”
“Sokka, it’s go fish,” Suki says placatingly, gathering the cards back into a pile. “There’s absolutely no skill involved.” Despite her assurances, Sokka can tell she’s completely smug at having won again.
He groans. “You’re even better at being a gracious winner.” “That, I will admit.” She stands gracefully, far more acclimated to her uniform after years of practice maneuvering in it than Sokka, who still very frequently gets his sleeve caught in door frames or candle flames. (There’s a lot of them. It’s the Fire Nation Palace.)
She holds out a hand, which Sokka takes begrudgingly, and pulls him up with little effort. “They’re almost done. I can hear Zuko wrapping up.”
As always, a little chill runs down Sokka’s spine (in spite of the consistently uncomfortable heat) at the mention of the Fire Lord’s name.
In some ways, Zuko’s the best part of Sokka’s whole pretending-to-be-dead situation. He gets to see Zuko, at least. Gets to look out for him, to keep him safe. Sometimes, Sokka’s even a convincing enough Kyoshi Warrior that Zuko speaks to him -- little things, like a quiet ‘thank you’ for helping Zuko exit the paladin or a ‘please fetch General Shiu’ at half-past midnight during a crisis.
Mostly, though, seeing Zuko every day just...hurts. Sokka feels a little guilty about it, but if there was one person he wished he could tell the truth to, it’d be Zuko. Even over Hakoda. Even over Katara.
Because Sokka doesn’t want to flatter himself, but he’s noticed a definite change in the Fire Lord after his apparent death. After Zuko’s installation as ruler, he’d been stressed, but it was clear he was finally happy, maybe for the first time in his life. And Sokka, as acting Ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe, was there to see it. To watch Zuko’s face light up in pure joy the first time he visited the turtleduck pond since he’d left the palace. To see his eyes fill with tears when the rest of the gang finally got to visit. To hear his laughter, his genuine, ridiculously endearing laughter when Sokka had tried to paint him a Royal portrait and failed miserably.
These days, Sokka’s lucky if he catches Zuko giving an official a polite, close-lipped smile. Mainly, Zuko confines himself to a few key areas: the War Room, which is now the Conference Room, on the days he has to meet with ambassadors; the gardens, where he mostly wanders, deep in thought, and insists his guard keep their distance; and, of course, his bedroom, where he spends literally all the rest of his time.
It’s depressing. Sokka pretty much lived for making Zuko happy back when he was an Ambassador. In the couple of years since the war ended, their delicate friendship had blossomed into...well, Sokka isn’t quite sure how he could describe it, but it was definitely more. They’d stopped being wary of each other and opted instead for becoming each others’ most trusted friend. Sokka can’t begin to count all the memories he’s made with Zuko as Ambassador: he vividly remembers diplomatic trips across the country in carriages way too small to fit them both, meetings with stuffy old dignitaries filled with silent laughter and suggestive looks across the table, and nights spent sneaking away from the palace to practice sparring or sit under the moonlight to reminisce on their journeys. All in all, Sokka isn’t sure when “barely standing to be in each other’s company” morphed into “I can’t imagine a life without you in it,” but he’s pretty positive his new situation is taking just as massive a toll on Zuko as it is on Sokka.
In any case, feeling all mopey about it doesn’t help Sokka stay in character, so he shakes himself out and stands as ladylike as he can just in time for the meeting doors to open. Taking his position across from Suki, he picks a spot on the wall and stares at it as the officials file out, grumbling under their breaths and making light conversation with each other.
Zuko, of course, is the last to exit. Sokka has to take a deep breath to steady himself, because even after several weeks undercover, he’s still not quite used to seeing his best friend and being unable to talk to him.
Zuko’s discussing something with one of the Earth Kingdom Ambassadors. She’s small, and old, and Zuko pretty much dwarves her in his intimidating Fire Lord robes. Still, he’s Zuko, so he looks thoroughly sheepish listening to whatever this ancient woman is berating him about.
“...so I told him not to dare come near my room again,” Sokka is able to catch as the pair moves closer. “Even if he was only trying to offer me tea. You know, I’ve heard that’s a euphemism these days. You really must keep him updated on the current slang.”
“Of course, Ambassador Ru,” Zuko says, coming to a stop just between Sokka and Suki. “I will be sure to discuss this with my uncle at length. Now, I believe you’re due across the courtyard for a meeting with my advisors?”
“I know where I’m due, young man,” the woman snaps, and then trots off in the opposite direction, muttering to herself the whole way.
Once she’s out of sight, Zuko visibly sinks. His posture falls, his diplomatic smile drops, and he reaches up to pull his topknot out. He’s still relatively put together -- even Sokka’s never seen Zuko come completely undone since his return to the Fire Nation, and he knows Zuko would try to save some semblance of face in front of his royal guard no matter the cost -- but Zuko trusts Suki, and so, by extension, trusts Song, Sokka’s Kyoshi-sona, with whom Suki seems unreasonably close.
“Rough day, my Lord?” Suki teases as she takes Zuko’s hairpiece from his outstretched hand.
He sighs, not even bothering to rebuke her for the ridiculous formality. “You have no idea.”
They set off in the direction of Zuko’s quarters while Zuko gives Suki the rundown on all the bullshit he’s had to deal with today. Sokka stays a few steps back to give the pair their space, but close enough to listen in.
“I don’t think they’ve thought any of this through,” Zuko’s saying as they round a corner. “Like, how would it be even remotely possible for the Fire Nation to rebuild the Air Temples? Aren’t there refugees living there now?”
Yes, and they’re quite inventive, is what Sokka would have said if he was Sokka.
“I see what you’re saying,” Suki responds instead, “but I think, if you got the right people on board, it could be an important step in rebuilding your relationships. Don’t you think people would be all over it if you got Aang involved? Something about peace and unity and culture and shit?”
“Aang is busy rebuilding the North Pole,” Zuko shoots back. “Besides, I’ve asked enough of him and Katara already. They don’t need more public appearances on their plates.”
“Zuko, he’s the Avatar. His whole life is public appearances.”
He pauses. “Still,” Zuko says, his voice gone quiet, “they’re grieving.”
And if that doesn’t just make Sokka want to break down and cry right there.
They walk the rest of the way in silence, Sokka wishing more than ever that he could tear off his disguise and reveal his still-breathing condition just to see Zuko smile again.
They reach the Fire Lord’s quarters and Sokka dutifully holds open the door for Zuko. Zuko bids farewell to Suki with an exhausted kiss to the cheek and then turns to Sokka. “Thank you for escorting me, Song. You’re relieved for the night.”
Sokka would much rather stay stationed outside Zuko’s door for the rest of the evening than go back to the Warrior’s housing, but he bows respectfully instead. “Thank you, Fire Lord Zuko,” he says in what he hopes to be a convincing falsetto.
Zuko bows back -- ever the gentleman -- then heads inside and shuts the door behind him. Sokka lets out a breath and slumps over, back to his usual, cantankerous self.
“Oh, don’t be such a grumpy pants,” Suki says, physically straightening him and looping her arm through his.
“I’m not,” Sokka retorts. “I’m wearing a dress. ”
Suki laughs as she leads them through the palace, weaving her way through back hallways and winding staircases expertly. She gives Sokka a little kick in the shin. “And you look good in it. I don’t know why you keep complaining.”
The Royal Guards’ barracks are on the opposite side of the palace than Zuko’s quarters, which Sokka has always found kind of stupid. If he had built the palace, the first thing he would have done was put his room right next to Zuko’s. Because of security purposes. Definitely not because being close to Zuko made him feel all fuzzy and helped him sleep better.
Whatever. The important thing is that it takes Suki and Sokka eons to walk all the way home, and though Suki is excellent company, Sokka’s spent the entire day with her and he’s exhausted and a little sad and just wants to crawl into bed. So the second they reach the barracks, Sokka heads straight for his bunk.
Of course, he forgot he shares the room with Suki, so that’s a bit of an issue.
Suki follows close behind him, and behind her , Ty Lee tumbles along with way too much energy to be natural. Sokka’s still not sure how to feel about the girl. Of course, she doesn’t know who he really is, but Sokka definitely remembers running away from her and Mai and their little ‘dance’ in the Earth Kingdom Palace. So yeah, despite the fact that she’s been nothing but kind since he’s become a Warrior, he’s still a little wary of her.
“Hi, Song!” Ty Lee greets enthusiastically as they cross into Sokka and Suki’s quarters. Ty Lee launches herself onto Suki’s bed, crossing her legs under her to face Sokka as he falls on his own. “Rough day?”
“You have no idea,” Sokka echoes ironically as he throws an arm over his face.
“Ty Lee,” Suki says mediately, “why don’t you go check on the mealplanning downstairs? I heard the chefs are contemplating roast komodo chicken for the Earth King’s visit.”
Ty Lee gasps and rolls herself off the bed as swiftly as she threw herself onto it. “No way! I told them we’re going vegetarian for that meal!” And with that, she’s gone.
Sokka doesn’t remove his arm. “You have no idea what they’re cooking, do you?”
Suki sighs. “No, but you seem like you need a break. It was the only thing I could think of.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Suki.”
She hums in agreement and closes the door before sitting on the edge of Sokka’s bed. With a wet cloth, she begins the somewhat harrowing process of removing Sokka’s face paint for him as he leans on his side and into her touch. How he ended up with someone like Suki on his side, he isn’t sure, but he’s damn grateful he did something right to have her with him like this.
“I love you,” he says, because he doesn’t do it enough.
“I know.”
After a few moments, she finishes washing his face and stands up, leaning over briefly to give him a sweet kiss on his cheek. “Get some rest,” she says, putting out the candles on their bedside table. “Early morning tomorrow.”
Sokka wants to whine at that, but Suki’s put up with enough of his grumbling for one day — or, actually, a lifetime. So he just yawns and pulls up his quilt as Suki leaves silently.