Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sokka is an artist.

Sokka may not be classically trained, or traditionally talented, but that does not detract from the fact that he is still, in his heart, an artist. It’s a relief, in between the rush of battling enemies and saving the world, to find joy in the act of creation and creativity. It’s a relief to swirl ink or charcoal over paper, or whittle a shape out of wood. So what if his artwork would never find its way into a museum or win him any awards? Sokka has heard his friends snicker over his doodles, had seen Piandao’s reaction to his landscape painting. He knows his own limitations. But he’s an artist. And an artist follows some simple rules. If he can create something out of nothing, what a wonderful gift. And if he sees something beautiful, he wants to capture it.

It’s a slow day at the Western Air Temple camp. Aang was let off training early so he could run around the temples with Haru and Teo and The Duke like he’d been begging to do for days. Sokka had good luck finding food the day before, so his chores were finished, and he was lounging by the campfire, absentmindedly polishing his space sword. Katara, ever studious, was by the fountain practicing her bending. Toph sat across the fire from Sokka, chatting with the latest addition to Team Avatar.

It was strange how soft the fire prince seemed in the golden hour glow. It was strange just seeing him sit in one place for an extended period of time, to be honest. Sokka’s previous encounters with Zuko had mainly been in the rush of battle, blurred in movement and obscured by flame. Since Zuko had joined the group, though, Sokka had found his eyes drawn towards the dark haired boy more and more. Probably just because he had never gotten a good look at his face before. It was hard to believe that this awkward, quiet teenager sitting across from him was the same person who had attacked his village less than a year prior. Thank god that ponytail is gone, he mused. You almost could’ve convinced Sokka that the angry jerk he first met was an entirely separate person from his new… comrade?... if not for the telltale scar.

Across the campfire, Toph cracked a joke and Zuko bit back a laugh, a small smile curving across his face.

Sokka was hit with the overwhelming urge to draw.

Without letting himself think about it too much, Sokka fished around in his bag for a sheet of paper and a new piece of charcoal he had stocked up on last time they were in town. Right, then. Portraiture was by no means an easy task, but when the impulse was there an artist had to follow it. And Sokka was an artist. At least charcoal was less formidably permanent and messy than ink. It had the potential to blend and soften, to smudge the shadows. And as a bonus, it made it easier to be secretive about what he was doing and hunch over the paper without worrying about smearing his work.

Discreetly glancing across the firelight, he started with the outlines of Zuko’s head and shoulders, letting that take up most of the paper. Sharp jawlines contrasting with the soft fall of dark hair. The streamline of fire nation robes, borders on the collar. The long slant of a nose, full eyebrow (singular). Eyes were hard to draw, but at least the pressure was off to make them evenly sized since, y’know….

Sokka’s gaze flickered nervously to Zuko, as if the firebender might turn out to be a mind reader and find Sokka’s thoughts insensitive. Hey, stranger things had happened. He studied the firebender’s scar before tracing out the slope of the burn, smudging the charcoal in to indicate the ridges of discolored skin.

It was almost thrilling, getting this far without being caught, observing and drawing with the other boy having no idea. But he jinxed himself as he stared too long, waiting for that smile to return so he could get it just right. His eyes were fixed in such concentration on the lower half of Zuko’s face, Sokka’s own lip bitten and brow furrowed, that it took him a second too long to realize that Zuko had caught him staring.

Sokka’s eyes went wide. Impulsively, he waved.

“Sorry!” he said, his voice coming out too loud, “Just zoned out, I’m writing up some plans.”

He gestured at the paper in his lap, while nonchalantly shielding its contents from view at the same time. Luckily the other boy didn’t question it, just nodded at him and there, there was that smile Sokka had been waiting for, flashing just for a second before he turned back to Toph.

Something zinged through Sokka’s chest at the sight of that soft smile directed at him. He chalked it up to feeling victorious that he hadn’t gotten caught, and set about finishing up the sketch. A thin line just curving up slightly on the left. One dimple. Hm. Sokka studied his work. Shit, it wasn’t quite right. It was slightly off center. Sokka sighed in frustration. Too late to go back, smudging it would just ruin the rest of it. If only there was a material that you could use to cleanly remove the charcoal from the paper and fix mistakes, he mused. That was an idea to file away for later.

The drawing actually looked pretty darn good overall though, if he could say so himself. One of his better works to date. Charcoal was certainly more forgiving than ink. Just a few more details and it would be done, and nobody would have to know-

“Wow, Sokka! That looks just like Zuko!”

Sokka whirled around with a fierce cut-it-out gesture to Aang, who had managed to glide up silently behind his shoulder. But it was too late. Zuko had started at the mention of his name and was giving the boys a suspicious look. Shit.

“What’s happening?” Zuko asked warily.

Aang nervously tried to repair the mistake he now realized he had made, “Oh it’s nothing! Totally nothing! You thought we said Zuko? No, hahaha, I said, uh, ‘zoo...um…. bro’! Uh, like...Sokka was drawing the zoo, bro! Y’know, the zoo I made in Ba Sing Se!”

Zuko stood up and Aang gulped. Sokka reflexively hugged the drawing close to his chest, not helping him look any less guilty.

“I thought you were writing up plans.” Zuko was glaring at Sokka and the water tribe boy could feel his whole face go warm. “Were you... drawing me?”

“No!” Sokka shot back, defensive.

“Not drawing you at all, no way!” Aang echoed unconvincingly.

Zuko’s fists were tight by his sides and yeah, there was that angry expression Sokka was more used to seeing from the old days.

“I know you’re lying.”

“They are.” Toph remarked casually. Damn Sokka hated that ability of hers.

Zuko tensed even more at the confirmation. “What, were you making fun of me or something?”

Sokka’s heart sank. “No, it’s not like that-”

“Then show me the parchment.”

Sokka hesitated. What if Zuko saw the drawing and thought he was making fun of him anyway because Sokka’s drawing skills weren’t great? Or what if he thought the whole thing was creepy and avoided him from now on and things were awkward and-

A hurt expression flashed across Zuko’s face before he turned away sharply, muttering, “Forget it.” No, no, no. That wouldn’t do either.

“Wait! Okay.” Sokka held the paper out for Zuko to take, ducking his head. He half expected the firebender to incinerate it in his hands, or to chew Sokka out for being weird, but nothing happened. The water tribe boy looked up hesitantly to see Zuko’s reaction.

The anger and hurt on Zuko’s face had been replaced with a soft look that made Sokka’s stomach twist in a funny way.

“Oh,” Zuko said, “um, this is-”

“It’s not great, I know.” Sokka launched into an explanation, “I swear I wasn’t doing it to make fun of you, I’m just not very skilled but-”

“Can I keep it?”

Sokka blinked. “What?”

“I, um,” The sun was setting but Sokka could swear he saw a flush on the firebender’s cheeks as he fidgeted in place. “It’s nice. Can I have it? The drawing, I mean.”

A giant grin broke across Sokka’s face. “Really?!?” he crowed, relief flooding over him. “Yeah dude, of course! Nobody’s ever wanted to keep something I’ve made! Aang, did you hear that?? I am an ARTIST!!!!”

He struck a victorious pose and heard Aang snicker behind him. Paying him no mind, he continued his proud rant. “This is the best moment of my life. I will sign it for you and everything. You can say you knew me before I became a world class artist with thousands of customers. You were the first. Hey... maybe I should charge you for it,” Sokka teased, but he quickly backed down at Zuko’s scowl. “Kidding, I’m kidding. Um, I was gonna add a few more details though, so, uh. I can give you the finished thing later tonight?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Zuko handed the parchment back to Sokka. The two boys just smiled awkwardly at each other before Katara called for them to help with dinner, and Sokka skipped over, grin still plastered on his face.

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“Can I come in?”

Zuko nodded and Sokka made his way into Zuko’s chambers. He had already said he liked the drawing earlier, so why was Sokka’s heart thudding nervously in his chest?

The sketch had been finished after dinner as the whole gang relaxed and laughed around the fire. Zuko, now that he was aware of being observed, kept catching Sokka’s eye and flushing red, staring down at the ground. Sokka wished he had colored charcoal so he could capture that blush too, but he didn’t. So instead, he just committed the sight to memory. Y’know, in case he had the opportunity to draw Zuko with more colors someday. That’s why.

And now he was sitting next to Zuko on his bed, sheepishly handing over the finished product and still compulsively making excuses for it.

“The mouth is off center, and I smudged it a little bit when I accidentally leaned my arm on it and-”

Zuko shushed him. “It’s good,” he said plainly. “I mean, it’s nowhere near professional quality or anything, but I wouldn’t expect that from someone like you.”

Sokka’s shoulders slumped. Zuko scrubbed at his face in frustration, “No, sorry, wait. Stupid.” he muttered to himself. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just- I’m trying to say…”

Sokka waited as Zuko took a deep breath, the silence making him fidget.

“My family and I used to sit for portraits every year. Y’know, royal family stuff,” Zuko waved his hand awkwardly. “I had to wear itchy robes and sit still for a while, but I liked it. The artists were really nice, most of the time. And uh,” He took a breath. “because we all had to be still, nobody could argue, or fight. It was peaceful. I’d look forward to it every year.” Zuko was quiet for a bit. “Um, but, I guess nobody’s really drawn me in years, since, uh…” he trailed off, hand drifting over the left side of his face.

“Oh,” Sokka breathed softly.

“Other than my wanted poster, I guess,” Zuko said hastily, forcing out a laugh.

“Well, your hair is much better now.”

Zuko’s laugh was a little more genuine that time. “Thanks. We can send this drawing to the Fire Nation so they can update it.” His face got serious. “Now that I’m a traitor, too.”

Silence again. Sokka carefully reached out to place his hand on Zuko’s shoulder.

“Hey. I’m glad you’re here,” Sokka blurted out, “You’re doing the right thing.”

Zuko ducked his head. “Yeah.”

“And I’ll draw you whenever you want! If you want. To make up for lost time.”

There was that sweet shy smile again. “Yeah. Um. Sure. If you want to.”

As golden eyes met blue ones, Sokka became extremely aware of his hand lingering too long on Zuko’s shoulder. He cleared his throat and patted Zuko’s back heartily, stretching as he stood back up.

“Well, man, I should let you get some rest. You’ve got a full day of jerk-bending tomorrow. And I might do some more art-bending, and an artist needs his beauty sleep. Y’know, so he can create beautiful things.”

Zuko huffed a laugh. “Sure, yeah.”

“Sleep tight, and flameo and all that,” Sokka called over his shoulder as he made his way to the door.

“Sokka?”

He turned around. Zuko looked like he was going to say something for a second, but then something passed over his face like he decided against it. “Never mind. Goodnight.”

Sokka smiled at him before heading back to his own chambers. As he got ready for bed, his pulse was still thrumming wildly, and images of Zuko blushing in the firelight were still flickering in his mind. The burdens of being an artist, I guess, Sokka shrugged to himself.

Yeah. That must be what it was.

Chapter Text

It was a week or so later, after their camp moved to Ember Island, that Sokka started to realize that the feelings he was having weren't just part of being an artist.

The art was still very much present in it. Sokka’s bag was filling up fast with parchment covered in candid sketches of Zuko. No one else knew about this habit (It’d be a betrayal to the artistic process to disrupt the very moment he was trying to capture by announcing that he was drawing, right? And Zuko had confirmed that he was ok with Sokka drawing him, right? So there was no need to make a big deal out of it.). He kept his secret stack of sketches to himself.

After all the life-changing field trips and time spent together, Sokka was harboring a growing... fondness... for his new friend. Trust came easily between the two of them, way easier than the water tribe boy had expected. It was like they shared a language. Sokka found himself gravitating towards the fire nation teen constantly, eager to make him laugh, make him blush. Zuko was endearingly awkward, and it was entertaining to watch the 16-year-old seemingly learning how to be a person for the first time in his life. But most of all, Sokka’s fondness stemmed from the way in which Zuko treated his friends and his sister.

When Katara had casually mentioned that her shoulder felt tight after training one night, Zuko had heated up some flat stones and slipped them to her to use as a muscle relaxer. Toph had sighed after Sokka and Aang declared it beach day, and Zuko quietly suggested another private beach nearby that he had been to before. When they arrived, they found, instead of sand, it was a beach made of pebbles, making it slightly easier for Toph to see. He’d been making a concerted effort to be an encouraging teacher to Aang, too. And although the words of praise were clunky on his tongue (Sokka had a feeling he wasn’t used to hearing them either) and sometimes he still lost his temper, Aang was blossoming under his instruction. Zuko had even shyly asked Suki one day to teach him some of the fighting tactics of the Kyoshi Warriors.

Sokka watched the two of them spar in the courtyard, entranced. He idly mourned that Suki didn’t have access to her traditional garb. I bet Zuko would look really nice in the Kyoshi makeup, his brain thought without permission. Before he knew it, there was Zuko’s face on his parchment yet again, this time with dramatically contoured eyes and dark lips. He was going to have to get to the bottom of this sooner or later.

He found some clarity the evening after they saw The Boy in The Iceberg.

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It was one of those nights where Sokka’s anxieties were getting the best of him. He crept out from his room to the window in the hallway, trying to get a better view of the night sky, but the angle was all wrong.

“Can’t sleep?”

Sokka whirled around at the raspy voice to find Zuko in the hall behind him, rubbing at his good eye.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“Nah. Couldn’t sleep either.”

Sokka craned his head back to the window and sighed. “I think it’s supposed to be a full moon tonight,” he said softly. “But I can’t tell.”

It was silent for a moment.

“Come with me.” Zuko said, turning before Sokka could respond.

The water tribe boy followed him through the house and up the stairs. Zuko pulled at a tassel on the wall and a ladder swung slowly down from the ceiling, leading up to a small attic. Sokka’s jaw dropped as he climbed up and saw the skylight taking up most of the attic’s ceiling. It was a beautiful cloudless night, stars twinkling clearly. And in the center, there she was in all her glory, a full moon, achingly beautiful as ever.

Sokka felt a lump rising in his throat as he stared up. He almost didn’t notice Zuko come up next to him, pillows and blankets in hand that he had gathered up from the corner.

“Here,” Zuko said. “You can lay down and it’ll be easier to look up. Uh, they’re probably pretty dusty, but-”

He was cut off by Sokka abruptly flinging his arms around him, overwhelmed with emotion. Sokka’s brain caught up to what he had done seconds after he had done it and just as quickly he pulled back, scratching at the back of his head and staring at the ground.

“Uh, sorry,” he blurted out.

“It’s okay.” Zuko sounded breathless.

“Thank you, bud.” Their eyes met. “Really, uh, I needed this. Thanks.”

Zuko nodded and handed Sokka a pillow and blanket, which he spread out under the skylight. Zuko was still standing awkwardly by the ladder.

“I, uh,” the firebender muttered, “I can let you be alone if you want-”

“Can you stay?” Sokka asked. “Company would be nice.”

So Zuko fetched another blanket and laid out parallel to the other boy. The attic room wasn’t that wide, but there was still a good foot and a half of distance between them. Sokka tried not to think about why he wished Zuko were closer.

Silence drifted over the pair as they stared up at the sky. Sokka’s mind swam in its usual cycle- Yue, how he couldn’t protect her, how he couldn’t protect his father and his soldiers at the invasion, the upcoming battle with Ozai, what if he couldn’t protect his friends then, what if he couldn’t protect the world-

“Do you... want to talk about her?” Zuko’s voice pulled Sokka out of his spiral.

The water tribe boy blinked back tears, keeping his head facing up so Zuko couldn’t see. “What, you didn’t get the full story from the world-class play we saw last night?” he joked.

“You know I didn’t. I told you guys, that troupe is the worst." Zuko scoffed. "They have an enormous budget that they blow on the effects to create this illusion of greatness, but all the so-called creatives- the actors, the directors- they don’t have an artistic bone in their body. And don’t get me started on the writers they use! When they’re not butchering the greats, they’re coming up with sorry excuses for plots that are devoid of any real substance.”

“Oof. Wow. Everyone’s a critic. I mean, I’m sure you’re right. Though, not to defend them, but writing plays doesn’t seem to be the easiest task, so...”

“...I used to write plays when I was younger.”

“What?” Sokka rolled his head over to look at the prince, who looked embarrassed at the admission. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the artsy type. Actually, you know what, never mind. That makes total sense with how dramatic you are.”

“I am not dramatic.”

“ ‘He said, dramatically’ ”

“Shut up.” Zuko gave a side-eyed glare, but grinned.

“What would you write about?” Sokka curled on his side so he could face the other boy completely.

Zuko demurred, but at Sokka’s insistence he started to detail the plots of his childhood creations, tales of spirits and war, family and adventure (even some romance, to Sokka’s delight).

And slowly Sokka found himself talking about the tales of the constellations and his people’s mythology that the adults in the Southern Water Tribe used to tell the children around the fire, and how his favorite was about a woman who adopted a polar wolf-bear and raised him as if he was her own human son, and how he and Katara used to pretend to be the characters in that story.

And Zuko shared that he and his mother would act out plays together too, both the ones from the library at the palace and the ones that Zuko had written himself, and how he had even once gotten Azula to act out some scenes before she learned that her character would be defeated at the end of the play and demanded a re-write.

And somehow that led to Sokka talking about Yue, telling his version of the story for the first time (“you asked her out by asking if she wanted to do an activity together?” “hey, we can’t all be like characters in your romance plays.”), and the weight of responsibility he felt for his friends, his family, everyone. How even after training with Piandao, the nagging insecurity lingered.

“I’m sorry for dumping all this on you,” Sokka whispered, tracing patterns on the dusty attic floor. “I never feel like I can talk about this with any of the others, cause they’ve got enough on their plate already, y’know? And I know your life hasn’t been easy or anything either, so I don’t wanna burden you...”

“My uncle would say something like…. ‘The burden gets lighter when we carry it together.’ And to be honest, if he said that to me a couple months ago, I probably would’ve rolled my eyes. But he’d be right. He usually is. And, uh, I’m glad you told me. It’s nice, um. To not feel so alone in, like, my... feelings. I’m glad you...trust me with that.”

At some point earlier in their conversation, both boys had shifted closer, curled towards each other, their knees only a few inches apart. Sokka reached for Zuko’s hand between them.

“Will you promise me something?” Sokka whispered.

Zuko’s eyes were wide in the moonlight. “What?”

“When you write plays again, will you make sure the character based on me is played by a super handsome actor?”

Zuko laughed and jerked his hand away to swat at Sokka. “You’re an idiot.”

“Please? You can make him the most useless idiot, as long as he’s handsome and like, has a fun catchphrase.”

“Hey.” Zuko suddenly looked very serious. “You’re not really an idiot and you’re certainly not useless, Sokka.”

The affirmation lit a warm little glow in Sokka's chest, but he deflected and grinned mischievously at Zuko. “So you’re not arguing that I’m not handsome, hm?”

Sokka’s laugh echoed around the small space as Zuko turned bright red and spluttered. His laughter soon melted into a yawn. It was late. And even though the blanket provided minimal separation from the hard flooring beneath him, Sokka felt more relaxed and comfortable than he had in weeks.

He snuggled deeper into his pillow. “Alright, jerkbender, tell me a bedtime story.”

Zuko scoffed, and Sokka kicked lightly at his leg.

“C’mon, I’m serious. Tell me one of the ones you wrote, the one about the- the general and the lava monster.”

“It’s a volcano spirit.” Zuko corrected indignantly. “But…uh, alright. If you insist.”

The firebender started his story, staring down at his hands as he spoke. As Sokka’s eyelids got heavy, he felt entranced with the tiny motions of Zuko’s expressions- how the corner of his lip would quirk up when he felt self-conscious, how his eyes would narrow when he was trying to remember a detail.

He imagined what it would be like to be a sculptor. To create a three dimensional version of Zuko’s face. To mold a portrait out of clay, to trace Zuko’s features on his skin so he could create a replica that was just right, to run his fingers tenderly over Zuko’s cheeks, to kiss his lips…

Wait.

Oh.

In Sokka’s tired state, the feeling of realization felt less like a shock and more like a relief, like sinking into a warm bath on a cold day. Oh. Everything - all the sketching, the constant desire to be near Zuko, the warm feeling in his chest. There was an explanation for it now, clear as the moonlight blanketing them both.

I *like* Zuko was the last thought Sokka remembered having before the other boy’s whispered storytelling lulled him to sleep.

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When Sokka woke up, the sun was already streaming fully through the skylight. He was alone, but there was a blanket draped over him that wasn’t there before he fell asleep. Next to him was a small book on the ground with a piece of parchment on top.

Sokka-

thanks fo You fell asleep before I got to the best part. Rude.

I found this play downstairs. It was my mom’s favorite. I’d like You should read it if you want.

-Zuko

PS: You snore almost as loud as my uncle

Sokka grinned dopily at the page. I like Zuko. Well, that could only mean one thing. The cogs in his head started turning as he flopped back down on the pillow.

It was time for a plan.

Chapter Text

Sokka steeled himself. Deep breaths. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he adopted what he hoped was an easy-going aura before rounding the corner to where Zuko was stretching. “Gather up your stuff, jerkbender- we’re going on a shopping trip!”

Zuko looked confused. “I... thought we’re all good on supplies?”

“Oh, we are. You’ve just been pushing yourself too hard, and you should take a break. So, we’ll go into town!”

“I don’t know, Sokka… You know I have to train the Avatar. He needs me-”

“Hey, I need you right now,” Sokka clasped Zuko’s shoulders in his hands. “I need a shopping buddy who knows his way around this island. That’s you. Katara and Toph will keep working with Aang, and you’ll be a better teacher after some retail therapy. It’ll be a short little trip. Come on, what do you say?”

Zuko agreed, but wanted to check in with Katara before, which was sweet of him, Sokka thought. Katara approved their excursion (“don’t you dare get yourselves in any trouble, though.” “we broke out of a max security prison, sis, I think we can handle some rowdy shop clerks.” “I don’t want you to handle anyone. Just keep low and come back before sundown.”). And they were off and on their way.

Shopping Excursion Date-That’s-Not-A-Date was Step Three in Sokka’s current master plan, after having gone through several revisions. Earlier versions of the plan involved using Aang as a skywriter (too public), swooping in and saving Zuko from sudden danger (too unpredictable), or professing his love by writing and producing his own romance play (too complicated, time-consuming, costly). But finally, after discarding many, many scribbled-out pieces of parchment, Sokka had written down a plan he could feel relatively confident about.

Step One had been to talk to Suki. The two of them had never made anything official, but still. Sokka cared about her so much, spirits he cared. And he would never, ever want to do anything to hurt her, but...

“It’s something I think I need to explore. And I totally understand if you’re super mad at me, I just ask that you please don’t beat me up. I won’t be any good in battle with a bunch of broken bones.”

Suki smiled softly, to Sokka’s relief. “I’m not going to beat you up, silly. I’m not mad, either. I’m actually really glad you told me instead of just sneaking around behind my back.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I know,” Suki cupped Sokka’s cheek in her palm. “I’m excited for you. This is exciting.”

“Spirits, you’re really the best person ever, huh?”

“And don’t you forget it.” Suki quipped. Her eyes glinted. “Have you kissed a boy before?”

Sokka’s face got hot. “No. Is it different? Should I be nervous? You’ve kissed girls and boys before, what do I-”

“Calm down. Kissing anybody new is different, but that’s alright. You’ll be fine.”

“...do I come highly reviewed by my previous customers?”

“Sokka.”

“I’m sorry-”

“But sure. Yes, you do.”

Sokka’s feeling of victory was short-lived as Suki started cracking up in laughter.

“What? What?” he prodded.

“Oh, nothing. I just realized that you totally have a type.”

“Do not.”

“Do too. Come on. You’re into people who are royalty or people who could kick your ass. Zuko checks both of those boxes.”

“I- that’s- I- I don’t-” Sokka spluttered, and Suki laughed.

“It’s true, don’t deny it. And honestly, for what it’s worth? From my perspective? I think he’s totally into you, too.”

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Sokka had to be sure, though, so Step Two involved Spending More Time With Zuko to see if Sokka could collect any evidence that the firebender maybe liked him back. This was easier than expected.

That night Sokka heard the creak of a door and footsteps in the hall. He poked his head out. Zuko stood near the stairs.

“Hey,” Sokka whispered, his smile spreading wide despite his efforts to stay cool.

“Hey,” Zuko whispered back. There was a twin smile on his face.

Sokka gestured to the attic and Zuko nodded, and so they both made their way up again. Sokka dared to spread his blanket out a little closer to Zuko’s this time. Conversation flowed easily once more, and when they had both tired out, Sokka insisted on telling the story that night.

Zuko fell asleep faster than Sokka expected him too. He was midway through a particularly dramatic moment in his storytelling when he rolled his head over to look at Zuko and his breath caught. Completely peaceful for once in his life, the young prince was almost haloed in moonlight, rhythmic breathing creating a hypnotic pattern. Spirits, Sokka even found Zuko drooling on the pillow to be sweet. He was a goner.

And if he slowly unwrinkled the parchment he had shoved into his waistband to make a quick sketch before he fell asleep too, well. That was just between him and Yue watching overhead.

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The routine repeated for several nights, the two boys meeting in the hall and journeying to the attic where they would chat and snicker and take turns telling stories until the other fell asleep. He was no expert, seeing as his previous romantic encounters had been largely born of luck and timing (with a healthy serving of natural charisma, he supposed), but he was growing more and more confident that there was something there between them. He couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but there was an energy in the easy way they spoke and shared and gravitated towards each other that was different than how Zuko interacted with the others. So maybe, just maybe, Zuko had feelings for him, too.

As for Sokka, his feelings only grew the more time they spent together. It was addicting, the rush he’d feel when Zuko chose to sit next to him at meals each day, when Zuko laughed openly at his shitty puns.

Step Three was born of the determination to spend time with Zuko truly away from the others, away from their norm. No dangerous mission, no threat of nosy earthbender feet to spy on them. Just the two of them and a change of scenery.

To be honest, there was no Step Four yet to Sokka’s plan. As nervous as that made him, he couldn’t yet come up with anything that felt just right. He’d figure it out as he went.

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Zuko scowled the whole walk over to the Ember Island shops. Both boys agreed they should disguise themselves a bit, but while Zuko had wanted to just put his hood up to shield his face, Sokka had insisted the firebender wear a giant floppy sun hat.

“This was my mother’s.” Zuko grumbled.

“And it suits you so well!” Sokka teased, adjusting the brim so that it flopped over and shielded Zuko’s scar just right. “Here, I’ll wear one too, and we’ll match.”

“That makes it so much better,” Zuko intoned sarcastically, but he kept the hat on. Sokka had a feeling the dramatics were just on principle. Zuko kept tweaking the edge of Sokka’s hat on their walk over, smile breaking through as Sokka would protest and shove back at him, and then he’d screw his face back into a fixed pout after they had grinned at each other for too long.

The look did suit Zuko well. The sun hat and the scowl. It was adorable.

Once they reached the shopping district, the prince dropped the disgruntled act. It was hard to look glum amongst the bustle and color of the stalls and storefronts. Sokka relished in the fact that the crowds of summer shoppers meant they had to stick close together, electricity zinging through his body every time their arms would accidentally brush.

“So, uh. Are you looking for anything in particular?” Zuko asked.

Sokka huffed out a laugh. “Dude, this is like the shopping center for the rich, isn’t it? I barely have any money on me. Do you?”

“Uh,” Zuko grimaced. “Yeah, not really. I didn’t think to take much with me when I left the Fire Nation.”

“Hey, it’s all good! That’s what I figured. Just looking is still a fulfilling experience all on it’s own!” Sokka gazed around at the cross section of shops extending as far as his eye could see. “I don’t even know where to start, though.”

Zuko tweaked Sokka’s sunhat again. “I know some good spots. Follow me.”

They started off at the section geared towards tourists, with some more affordable wares. They snickered at a display of The Boy In The Iceberg merchandise, and glowered as they passed a shop window featuring ceramic busts of Ozai. A glittering candy shop offered free samples of taffy that managed to be both sweet and spicy.

The vast majority of shops beyond that were opulent beyond anything Sokka had ever seen. Jewelry crafted from the most precious of gems, kimonos of the finest silks, spices and teas of the rarest variety. They took a turn about a gallery filled with painted silk screens (Zuko muffled his snickers into his sleeve as Sokka pretended to be an expert art critic in front of each piece) and lingered longer in a shop full of rare scrolls (Sokka pretended not to notice Zuko’s eyes welling up with tears at the sight of a first edition ‘Love Amongst The Dragons’ scroll, for Zuko’s sake).

Both boys reluctantly left that store empty handed. But their sadness at leaving the scrolls behind vanished when Zuko nudged Sokka and pointed to the building on the corner. The sign over the door declared it the Tosa Academy for the Arts. Through the window on the left, Sokka could see into a room with a half dozen students painting a landscape while the teacher hovered over their shoulders. And in the window on the right was a display of supplies for sale.

Sokka practically ran inside. It was an artists’ dream. Endless ink wells, brushes of all sizes, a rainbow of paints, stretched silk canvases, the highest quality parchment. Sokka’s eye was immediately drawn to the pile of silver tins in the corner.

Each tin was bursting with an impossible array of colored charcoal. More colors than Sokka would’ve thought possible. In awe, he lightly ran a finger over the section of blues, fading from the lightest seafoam to the darkest midnight shade. He could draw anything in the world with this set, he mused. His finger drifted to a piece pigmented in gold.

“Can I help you?” A tight voice interrupted Sokka’s artistic reverie. “You boys seem… lost.”

They turned to find the shop owner peering down at them over her nose. She was an older woman, hair pristinely styled and wearing some of the fanciest robes Sokka had ever seen. Her arms were crossed. The smile on her lips did not remotely reach her eyes.

“We were just looking,” Zuko shot back defensively. The older lady’s smile thinned, condescension practically radiating off of her as she eyed their outfits.

“This establishment provides only the finest in artistic supplies and education to only the finest of our Fire Nation artists. We are not a place for young commoners like yourselves to peruse.”

Sokka felt Zuko tense beside him and squeezed his forearm. It's ok. Sokka could handle this.

He stood up straight, adjusted his floppy hat, and adopted his most official tone of voice. “You have us mistaken, Ma’am. We are no commoners. You see, my father is a highly respected artist and a highly respected general. From the colonies. His name is Wang Fire.”

“I can’t say that I’ve heard of him,” the lady sneered.

“Well, that is your loss, I must say. He sent me here because I am also going to be a world class artist one day, and he is having me scout out different academies such as yours to see if they are worthy of teaching a great Fire prodigy.”

“Oh really?” the woman drawled, unconvinced. “Which other academies could you possibly be considering?”

“Uh,” Sokka looked to Zuko for reinforcement, but Zuko didn’t seem to have any ideas of Fire Nation art schools either. “That’s for me to know, and you to find out! But from the way we’ve been treated here today, I’m not sure you’ll be getting our patronage.”

“I highly doubt someone from the colonies could afford our prestigious education. We tend to only admit the most talented of nobility, which brings honor to the art form.”

Sokka felt anger flare up inside him. “But art is for the people. Not just snooty nobles with their fancy rules. It’s for everyone.”

The owner huffed, looming closer. “And what is your name, boy? Since you seem so determined that you’ll be a master artist one day.”

Piandao’s advice flashed through Sokka’s mind. “My name is Lee! Lee Fire. And this is my... cousin.”

“Who’s name is...?” The shop lady leered at Zuko.

“Um.” Zuko looked a bit panicked, tugging his hat down further over the scar. “I’m, uh. My name is... Lee... also.”

“Runs in the family!” Sokka gritted through his teeth, forcing himself to keep smiling as he shot Zuko an exasperated look.

“Well, Lee One and Lee Two, I am going to have to ask you to leave. I have students to attend to and I can’t have you scaring away my customers.” She smiled sickly sweet once more. “I’d simply hate to have to get the guards involved.”

“We will not be leaving!” Sokka declared confidently.

“Sok- Lee, let’s go.” Zuko hissed.

“Ok, we will be leaving!” Sokka amended. “But rest assured, my father will be hearing about this!!”

Zuko practically dragged him out by his collar.

When they had put enough distance between them and the art academy, Sokka whirled to face Zuko.

“Really? You couldn’t have come up with any other name other than the one I used??”

“Hey, I’ve been using Lee as an alias for months.” Zuko flung his hands up in the air, exasperated. “You’re the one who decided Fire was a good choice for a Fire Nation surname!”

They glared at each other for a beat before dissolving in laughter. Sokka clutched at Zuko’s arm as he tried to catch his breath. “Come on,” he managed to get out. “Let’s see if we can get something to eat.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They had just enough money to get some snacks from one of the cheaper stalls. As soon as they found a spot to sit, Sokka dove into the food in front of him, almost missing Zuko sliding a thin parcel across the table towards him.

Sokka’s jaw dropped. “You didn’t.”

The tin of colored charcoal gleamed in the early evening sun. Zuko looked smug. “Swiped it when she wasn’t looking.”

There was a fireworks show of elation going off in Sokka’s mind, but he somehow managed to push it all down and feign disappointment as he tutted at Zuko. “I thought you were a good guy now, Zuko. I thought you changed.”

Zuko’s smirk vanished instantly. “Wait, no, I have, I just- she was so mean and- and- I wanted you to have it and-”

“Chill out, hotman, I’m only joking.” Sokka let the dopey grin he’d been suppressing take over his face as he eagerly untied the ribbon to admire all the colors.

Zuko looked relieved for an instant, but leveled a scowl at Sokka. “Some way to say thank you.”

“Oh, thank you, Your Fireyness, how will I ever repay you?” Sokka mocked, but then turned more genuine. “No, seriously, though. Thank you. This is amazing, Zuko. No one’s ever done something so thoughtful and so illegal just for me.”

Zuko scoffed but his cheeks were dusted with red. “You deserve it.” he mumbled, and immediately got very busy picking at his food. Sokka desperately wished he could kiss him, but just turned back to his snacks as well, pulse racing.

“Hey, um.” Zuko was still staring down at his meal as he spoke. “If you really wanted to, uh, repay me for my extreme generosity,” He grinned as Sokka snorted. “Uh. You could use your new supplies to do another portrait of me?”

“Oh, yeah! Of course.”

“I mean, remember you told me weeks ago you would draw me again? And, uh, you haven’t yet, so….”

Sokka thought about the pile of sketches of Zuko currently sitting next to him in his bag and gulped. “Totally, totally, totally, you’re right. Me, I haven’t, uh, drawn you at all since then. So, um, let’s do it. A royal portrait session, in the most royal colors.”

Zuko grinned. “Tonight?”

“Tonight.” Sokka echoed.

The cogs in Sokka’s plan-brain whirred to life once more. Tonight. Using all his new colors, Sokka would create the most beautiful drawing he had ever made. He would present it to Zuko and Zuko would be able to see just how much Sokka cared by the detail and the craftsmanship, and Sokka would have to only use a minimal amount of words to express his feelings for Zuko because the firebender would be able to see it all on the page. And once Zuko was swept off his feet by Sokka’s artistic prowess, he would lean in and then they could finally-

“Sokka,” Zuko hissed, snapping the water tribe boy back to reality. “Don’t look now, but there’s a guard about twenty yards behind you and he’s looking at us kinda suspiciously.”

“Think we’ve been recognized?” Sokka whispered.

“That, or Madam Artiste has noticed a precious tin is missing,” Zuko stiffened. “Shit, he’s coming this way.”

“Should we make a run for it? Or play cool and walk away till we lose him in the crowd?”

“You’re the plan guy. You decide.”

Sokka grinned. “There’s an alley behind you and to the left. Let’s run.”

And they were off, tin tucked safely in Sokka’s bag, food abandoned at their table. The guard yelled at them to stop, but Sokka barely heard it, too focused on the sound of Zuko’s laughter ringing in his ears, the feel of Zuko’s hand tightly in his, and the rush of adrenaline through his veins that wasn’t just from running.

Chapter Text

The hours after they returned from the shopping district dragged on impossibly slow. Sokka willed himself to be patient and tried to distract himself. He had a sparring session with Suki. He took a long walk by the water. He helped make dinner even though it wasn’t his turn.

But mostly he was replaying the possible outcomes of tonight’s portrait session on loop in his head, his anxiety only spiking. Tonight was the culmination of a week of planning, and after the portrait was done then everything was up in the air. It all depended on Zuko’s response. Sokka wanted to have confidence in his interpretation of all the time they had spent together, figured the nights in the attic and the lingering glances and the way Zuko blushed easily when Sokka teased him had to mean something. But there was also the very real possibility that Sokka was entirely wrong. And if Sokka was wrong then he’d look like a fool, and what if Zuko hated him for it and the dynamics of the group were thrown off and there was fighting amongst his friends and they couldn’t all work together as well as they usually did and then they lost the whole war because of Sokka’s stupid crush??

He tried to be rational. This was not as high-stakes as his other plans had been. He was only trying to kiss a cute boy. It wasn’t the end of the world. Well, it might be. But logically it wasn’t. Probably. Hopefully.

Spirits, Sokka just needed a win.

Dinner was usually Sokka’s favorite time of day, both because of the meal and because it was time the whole group spent together, relaxing and laughing and swapping stories. But tonight he barely got halfway through his food, and he was mostly silent, observing.

“You ok, Sokka?” Aang leaned over to whisper to his friend, concern etched in his brow. “You’ve only made one joke this past hour.”

“Stomach ache.” Sokka lied, and Aang nodded in somber understanding.

Suki was regaling them with the tale of when Avatar Kyoshi faced off against a group of pirates who called themself the Fifth Nation. Aang would occasionally chime in with his Avatar knowledge, and during a particularly dramatic moment, Katara and Toph had worked together to provide background effects with their bending- Katara making miniature versions of tidal waves in her soup, and Toph rattling the ground below them. Zuko looked enthralled. Not that Sokka was watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“A group of pirates almost killed me once,” Zuko remarked casually, “They were hired to assassinate me and they blew up my ship.”

The whole gang turned to gape at him.

“What?” Sokka managed.

“Yeah, uh.” Zuko shrunk in on himself a bit as everyone stared. “Zhao? He hired pirates- you guys met them! The ones that I, uh, was working with… uh, to capture you… uh, but then I was fighting with them... Those guys.”

“Well, it’s lucky you weren’t on board when it exploded,” Suki said.

“Oh, I was,” corrected Zuko. “I was by myself but I noticed something was up. It was too late to run, so I used the force of the explosion to propel myself into the water. Luckily Uncle wasn’t far away, ‘cause, uh, apparently I hit my head on some debris and passed out.”

“Spirits, Zuko,” Katara said.

“It’s fine!” Zuko seemed to just be realizing that this wasn’t the fun, lighthearted campfire story he had apparently thought it was. “I was fine! You guys saw me not long after, at the Northern Water Tribe.”

“Your face was all cut and bruised.” Aang looked like he was going to be sick.

Sokka felt a sudden surge of guilt. He had wanted to leave Zuko in the frozen tundra that day. Of course so much was different then, he hadn’t known, couldn’t have known where they’d all be now, but still. He wrapped his hand tightly around Zuko’s arm, not knowing what to say. It was ridiculous, it was long ago and he didn’t even care about the firebender back then, but Zuko had almost died and he was overwhelmed with the feeling that he couldn’t lose anyone else he cared so much about.

Zuko flushed at the touch. “Hey,” he said to Sokka softly, running his thumb lightly over the back of Sokka’s hand. “I’m okay. I’m, uh, safe with you guys now.” He nervously looked around the group. “Um, I think.”

“Of course you are,” Aang said, and the rest of the gang echoed the sentiment. Sokka could only nod and stare fiercely at the ground between him and Zuko. All he wanted was to fling his arms around the firebender and hold him tightly forever, but not here, not in front of everyone. Katara was already giving him a slightly odd look. Sokka dropped Zuko’s arm after one last squeeze, clearing his throat and trying to think of something funny to say. Nothing came.

Suki, Aang, and Zuko resumed chatting about Kyoshi. Across the fire, Katara and Toph were having a hushed and seemingly serious conversation with each other. Sokka turned back to pick at his bowl.

When dinner ended, Sokka leapt up. Finally, he could get on with his plan instead of just agonizing over it. But Katara asked Zuko to help with the dishes, and Zuko agreed because he was kind and wonderful. Sokka was left with his thoughts, kicking at pebbles on the ground and feeling like he was minutes from exploding with impatience. He sat himself down in the opposite corner and tried unsuccessfully not to stare.

Katara leaned over to say something to Zuko and Sokka watched the firebender blush and stutter. What are they talking about? Sokka wondered, suspicious. The ridiculous notion that they were flirting popped into his head for a split second before he pushed it down. He knew his sister better than that. Still, Zuko seemed flustered, and Sokka was endlessly curious.

Toph sidled up next to him, arms crossed. “What are your intentions with my brother?”

Sokka blinked. “What?”

“Zuko. I’ve decided I’m adopting him as my brother. I haven’t told him yet, but I will,” she said, very matter-of-fact. “Anyway, I need to make sure that you have good intentions because Sparky’s been through a lot, and if you hurt him, I’ll send a rockalanche after you.”

“I-wha-you-” Sokka spluttered. “But you’ve known me longer than you’ve known him!”

“...And your point is?”

“Spirits. No, of course I’m not going to hurt him. Nothing’s happening between us.”

“Suuuure.” Toph said. “You seem to forget I can feel your heart race any time that he’s around.”

“Wait.” Sokka’s eyes widened. “Does his do the same thing? Does he-”

“Nuh-uh, no cheating, Snoozles,” Toph held up her hands as she walked away. “That’s not my info to share.”

“To-oph!” Sokka groaned, but she was gone. Great. That hadn’t eased his nerves in the slightest.

Finally, finally, finally, Zuko was ready to go. The smile he gave Sokka as he motioned his head towards the house, like he was sharing a secret just with him, made Sokka’s stomach do somersaults.

“What were you and my sister talking about?” Sokka asked when Zuko was closer, trying to sound nonchalant.

Zuko went red. “Nothing!” he said, too quickly. “Nothing important at all. Just, you know... stuff. What were you and Toph talking about?”

“Nothing,” Sokka replied immediately. “You know. The usual.”

There was an awkward silence as the two boys made their way into the beach house. Sokka’s brain raced as he fidgeted with his fingers. What if this was all a disaster? Maybe he couldn’t do this. Maybe he should just fake a stomach ache again and hide out in his room.

“So, uh. Did you still want to do a portrait session?” Zuko asked, and he looked so quietly eager that there was just no way Sokka could do anything but nod and smile at him.

“I’ve gotta get my supplies from my room,” Sokka gave a conspiratorial grin, “My fancy-schmancy charcoal to be used exclusively by the finest artists.”

“Only the highest quality pigments to bring honor to the rainbow,” Zuko drawled in a pitch-perfect imitation of the owner of the art shop.

Sokka snickered. “Hey, you’re pretty good at impressions! Do you take requests? Can you do Aang next? Ooh, no, do that buff guy that played Toph’s character in the play! Or maybe Combustion Man! Wait no, he didn’t talk. What about-”

He was still rambling off possibilities of people for Zuko to impersonate by the time they made it to his room. Sokka felt slightly sheepish at the state of it. Even with all of his anxious spiralling that evening, he somehow hadn’t thought to straighten up.

“Sorry it’s a mess,” Sokka mumbled, stepping over a pile of clothes to get to his desk.

Zuko laughed, to Sokka’s surprise. “It’s actually… nice to see.” He continued at Sokka’s confused look. “This used to be Azula’s room, and it was always pristine. She’d be pissed. It’s great.”

“This was Azula’s room?” Sokka shuddered, wringing his hands a bit as if he could deflect any lingering air of her royal lightningness from the room. “Thank goodness we’ve been sleeping in the attic. We’ll do the portrait in your room.”

“Or maybe in my dad’s old room?” Zuko said. “He’d really hate that.”

“Perfect. Then let’s do it.”

Sokka rummaged around in his desk drawer for the piece of wax he had rolled up from an old candle. He had discovered it was actually a pretty efficient tool to remove mistakes from his drawings. Hopefully it would work just as well with his new colors. “Can you grab some parchment?” he called over his shoulder. “There’s some blank ones in my bag on the bed.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Sokka remembered what else was in his bag. Panic shot through his body.

“Fuck, actually, wait, no, I’ll get it-”

It was too late. In Zuko’s hands were the pile of Sokka’s sketches. Pages and pages from the past few weeks.

Zuko in his prison uniform at Boiling Rock. Zuko at the beach. Zuko training in the courtyard. Zuko sleeping under the skylight. Zuko in his sun hat. Zuko. Zuko. Zuko.

Sokka felt like crumbling into the ground, feeling entirely exposed as Zuko sifted through the drawings slowly, silently. This was not part of the plan. This was absolutely not part of the plan. He needed a new plan, stat, but Sokka felt himself flounder, lost in the unknown of it all.

Zuko said something first. “You-” He swallowed thickly, keeping his eyes on the papers. “Uh, you’ve...gotten better at this.”

I’ve gotten a lot of practice because of you, Sokka thought, but he wasn’t functioning enough to say it out loud.

“This is... um. There’s so many.” Zuko looked at him finally, looking like a lost animal, almost frightened. Like he was willing Sokka to answer a question he was too afraid to ask out loud.

Sokka felt like his brain was out of oxygen. “What can I say, you’ve got a pretty face.”

“Stop it, Sokka.” Zuko said quietly, like he thought Sokka was just teasing him again.

“No, really. Your face. It’s pretty.” Sokka was past the point of excuses, let the truth flood out of him like a wave. “And when you smile it’s like the sunshine and when I’m near you I feel warm all over and I just want to capture that feeling on paper but I’ll never get it perfect the way you are in real life so I have to just keep trying I guess and-”

Zuko crossed the room in quick strides, and for an exhilarating second Sokka wasn’t sure if he was about to punch him or kiss him. The firebender stopped just inches from his face, pausing abruptly as though his thoughts had just caught up with his actions. His expression was unreadable.

“I’ll remind you,” Sokka spoke up cautiously, “that even though you’re on good terms with my sister now, she will still kick your ass if you punch me.”

“What?” Zuko’s face twisted in confusion. “I don’t want to punch you.”

That narrows it down then, Sokka thought, nerves in the pit of his stomach pushing and pulling with anticipation. Here goes nothing.

“Oh. Well. In that case. When I see people with pretty faces. Uh. I don’t just want to draw them.” Sokka screwed his eyes shut, willing himself to be brave. “Um. I want to kiss them too. I want to kiss you. Please?”

He peeked tentatively out of one eye. Zuko wore a war of emotions on his face, something like hope and adoration that made Sokka’s heart flutter all mixed up with persistent disbelief.

“Really?” Zuko asked, just barely audible.

“Yes really, Zuko. No jokes this time. Swear on the moon so you know I’m for real. I mean, only if you want-”

“I want to.” He rushed out. “I worried- You- I didn’t… Yes. Want to.” The corner of his mouth quirked up in the shyest smile.

Sokka felt dizzy. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Zuko breathed, and then they were both leaning in. It was a stumble of a kiss at first- the angle was wrong and their noses bumped, but Sokka readjusted, tilted his head and there, that was more like it. The warm press of Zuko’s lips on his had tension melting from his shoulders that Sokka hadn’t even realized he was holding. Sokka’s hands came up to frame Zuko’s face, gentle and steady, while Zuko’s hands flittered a bit over Sokka’s back before finding purchase in his shirt.

There were colors swirling behind Sokka’s eyelids, firecracker red melting into sky blue to create the most beautiful violet, and wasn’t that poetry, holy shit, Sokka was going to write Zuko poems, Sokka could write a thousand haikus about the boy he was currently kissing and he was going to, would read them all aloud to Zuko when this was all over and the war was something long behind them.

And Sokka realized that he hadn’t ever really thought about life beyond the war or what he wanted after Ozai was defeated, but right here and now he knew he wanted more of this, a simple want of a moment to kiss Zuko again when they were all free from danger, and the thought was so overwhelming that a lump crept up in his throat and he let out a choked little sound against Zuko’s mouth.

Zuko pulled back, concerned. “Did I do something wr-”

“No, not at all,” Sokka said. “I was just... thinking…”

All of Sokka’s thoughts about the future suddenly felt foolish and terrifying and small. There was no way to say them out loud.

Zuko slowly reached up to where Sokka’s hands were still cradling his face, peeling one away to press his own palm against it, waiting until Sokka curled his fingers around his hand before he copied the gesture.

“There’s a pond by the palace.” Zuko said. “They have turtleducks there. I want to take you there someday.”

Sokka let out a shaky exhale, trying not to cry. “Yes. I’d love that. And you can come visit the Southern Water Tribe! You can see the stars so clear there, and Gran Gran can make us steamed sea prunes.”

“And we can find a theater troupe that’s actually good so you can see a proper production of Love Amongst the Dragons.”

“And maybe someday we’ll have enough money that we can buy the things from the fancy shops! I’ll buy you that first edition scroll.”

“And I’ll buy you all the art supplies you’ll ever need. Except not from that terrible lady, we don’t want to give her any more money. We’ll find other, better art supplies, I’ll- I’ll commission people to invent new colors just for you! I’ll have more than enough money if I inherit my father’s-”

Both of their expressions faltered. Zuko’s father. The war. There was still so much unknown, a daunting behemoth of a mountain to climb before any of those things they had just said could be possible. And while people in all the nations were still suffering and fighting and dying, Sokka suddenly felt very silly for wanting anything at all.

Zuko squeezed his hand.

“But that’s what you want? You want to do all that?” he asked quietly.

Sokka nodded, staring stubbornly at his shoes.

“Then we’ll do it.” Zuko said simply, and when Sokka looked up to meet his eyes he saw such determination there that he had no choice but to believe him.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The portrait that night took forever to finish. Sokka set up an elaborate backdrop, draping fabric over a table and finding the most ornate vases and trinkets from around the house to decorate the room. Candles were lit. In the middle of all these objects, Zuko had been maneuvered into a specific, regal-looking pose in his chair, his shoulders adorned with an ancient-looking curtain they found in a closet. Sokka feigned professionalism at his desk, wrenching his brow into exaggerated concentration, holding out his thumb, and muttering nonsense to himself about shadows and colors. The whole thing was ridiculous and every few minutes one of them would break into a grin, which made the other grin, and then they would both laugh and Zuko would blush and Zuko would cover his face with his hands. And then Sokka would make his way over to where Zuko was sitting and peel back his hands so he could kiss him sweetly and then return to his parchment to sketch for a few moments before it all happened again.

(“It’s a masterpiece,” Sokka murmured, Zuko’s chin tucked into his shoulder to admire the finished product.

“I agree.”)

And for just a bit they could forget that there was a war, forget that the house was haunted with memories, forget all the weight on their young shoulders. They could just be two teenage boys, laughing and kissing and creating beautiful things.

Because they’re artists, at their cores.

And that’s what artists do.

Chapter Text

After Ozai’s defeat, the portraits of the old firelords are removed from their place of honor in the palace halls. No longer leering over those who they manipulated and terrorized, they are placed in the archives and brought out only as teachable artifacts, in accordance with the new educational curriculum. Instead, the hallway is now full of art commissioned by Firelord Zuko from local artists all across the Fire Nation and beyond, representing the diversity and community of everyday citizens, imagining a future of beauty, peace, and justice.

In the center of the hall, there are two portraits. One, professionally done and impressive in scale, of Firelord Zuko surrounded by his friends from across the world- Mai and Ty Lee of the Fire Nation, Toph and Suki of the Earth Kingdom, Katara and Sokka of the Water Tribes, and Aang of the Air Nomads. Unlike the traditional wartime portraits, this one features all eight young friends smiling.

There is another, much smaller portrait hanging directly below it in a place of honor. A simple charcoal drawing of Zuko on an average piece of parchment. It’s signed “Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe” in messy scrawl below it, next to a scribbled heart.