Chapter Text
Part One: Renegade
You’re supposed to wave. It’s a thing. An unspoken bond, a brotherhood between Jeeps. You see another Wrangler, and you wave – two fingers up, thumb out – and you nod knowingly. It’s a loose gesture, but a sacred tradition.
And Zuko was all about sacred traditions.
So when the boy in the old Ford Bronco lifted two fingers and a thumb, and nodded with a stupid, open-mouthed smirk at him, Zuko was furious. So furious, that before he knew what he was doing, he pulled the wheel hard to the left, tearing over the median in a reckless U-turn to chase after the boy in the Bronco.
The hideous, bright yellow Bronco. A Bronco of all things – the car that copied and stole from Jeep’s designs – and whose driver had the audacity to steal their wave, too. It was a rivalry he felt deep in his bones. He pulled up his lip a little in disgust. Who would ever pick that, and in that color.
It was nothing like Dual Dragon. Zuko’s Wrangler was a rich burgundy with tasteful gold accents – a pinstripe running down the side of the chassis, gold rims, and elegantly bold letters spelling Dual Dragon in script, curling around an intricate dragon along the hood. The whole look was topped off with deep gold hooded headlight caps that made the Jeep look downright mean.
Almost as mean as he tried to be while weaving through traffic. He narrowed his eyes – both in determination, and squinting because of that Spirits-awful yellow monstrosity he was trying to catch up to. He cut off a sedan and barely registered the blare of the horn as he closed in on the Bronco.
Zuko wasn’t sure what he’d planned to do when he caught up. Maybe flick him off, or yell an obscenity out the window. Toss a little fire beneath his wheels.
What he wasn’t planning on was for the Bronco to slam on the brakes at a yellow light just as Zuko was closing in. His eyes widened, and his heart felt like it stopped. The prickly heat of panic flared between his shoulders and down his arms. He slammed on the brakes and pleaded with the Spirits to stop in time.
What he really wasn’t planning on, was smacking right into the back of the Bronco.
Zuko groaned after the jolt of the impact. He peeled his fingers away from where they were tightly gripping the steering wheel, and realized the slight burning he smelled were singe-marks his hands left in the leather. Great. Zuko slid slowly out of Dual Dragon and looked up blinking.
“What the heck, man?!” The other boy was shouting. But he wasn’t looking at Zuko. He had his hands up to grip the sides of his head in exasperation, staring at the zero-millimeter gap between their two cars like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “You hit Boomie!”
“I – what?”
“You smashed right into his fender! It’s all bent now.” The boy threw his arms awkwardly around the back corner of his car in an odd sort of hug, cooing. “We’ll get you all fixed up, don’t worry.” Then, he turned suddenly on his heel and pointed right at Zuko. “You.” He stepped toward Zuko.
Zuko jerked his head up and leaned back slightly, daring a quick glance over his shoulder. It was stupid. He knew the boy was talking about him.
“Yes, you.” The boy stepped forward again and jammed his finger hard into Zuko’s chest. Zuko stared down at his hand, dumbfounded. “What were you doing?!”
“I, uh.” Zuko glanced up to meet the boy’s eyes. Deep, beautiful blue eyes. He trailed off, lost for a second. The finger in his chest pressed harder. Ow. He shook his head, snapping back to reality. The fire poured back into him as he remembered. “This was your fault,” he snapped, swatting the boy’s hand away. “You were asking for it.”
The boy threw out his hands. “For stopping? At a yellow light?”
“No, you idiot! For the wave.” Zuko almost hissed the last word, narrowing his eyes and stepping toward him menacingly.
Or, what he though was menacingly. But it must not have been because the boy doubled over in laughter. “The—wave—oh spirits,” he wheezed out between bouts of laughter. “I wasn’t waving at your car, man. I was waving at you.”
Zuko paused, his anger fizzling. “At me?”
“Yeah, dumbass. I thought you were cute,” he shrugged.
Zuko’s face immediately flushed bright red. His cheeks felt like they were on fire, and he had a half-formed thought that maybe they might be, though firebending didn’t quite work that way. He opened his mouth to say something but the boy spun on his heel and walked back to his car. He leaned into the front seat, reaching for the glove box. Zuko watched, mouth parted half-in confusion, half because Agni was this boy attractive and—
The boy turned around with a pen and a somewhat crumpled sticky note in his hand. He pulled the pen cap off with his teeth and held out the rest. “Here,” he said, muffled by the cap.
“For…?” Zuko tilted his head a little, reaching out for the pen.
He spat out the pen cap. “I need your number.” Zuko just stared, speechless. “So I can call my insurance.”
“Oh. Right,” Zuko looked again at the damage. It really wasn’t that bad. A fender bender, really. Dragon would be fine. So would the Bronco, though he found little solace in that. He reached absently for the pen while still looking at the cars and only jolted back to attention when his fingers brushed the boy’s hand, and he swore he felt a shock like the first twinge of lightning. “Sorry,” he mumbled, embarrassed. Zuko scratched out his name and number and handed it back.
“Zuko,” the boy said, reading the note. Zuko felt heat crawl up his neck at hearing his name come out of the boy’s mouth. A stupid, betraying heat. He was supposed to be mad at this guy, not swooning. He blamed the crash (the very super serious fender bender) for his reaction. He was just in shock. Yeah. That was it. He watched as the boy climbed back into the Bronco’s front seat. “Sokka,” he said, lifting his chin in a slight nod.
Then, Sokka’s mouth pulled into that stupid, deviously cute open-mouthed smirk. He winked, threw up his hand in that wave and peeled out, leaving Zuko standing alone in the street, fuming next to his dented Jeep.