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Sokka was awake.
Sokka was often awake these days. Whatever had made Toph dub him “Snoozles” was long gone, replaced with an ache he felt to his core— one that kept him from his coveted snoozing.
Sokka stared into the fire, resisting the impulse to scan the sky--something he had gotten used to doing every night this past month.
Katara, Aang, and Toph had all passed out hours ago, leaving Sokka to tend the fire. The flames were nearly out by now, emitting a weak trail of smoke.
It wouldn’t be enough.
Except he was not going to signal—he wasn’t . He couldn’t .
He had been met with clear skies too many times.
But as Sokka stared into the last of the dying embers, a rush of desperation overcame him—he couldn’t let it die. He prodded the ashes, hurridly added more wood, and the fire was back in no time.
Leaving Sokka to make his decision.
He wouldn't respond. He had told Sokka as much. And that was if he was even close enough to see it in the first place.
But why not try? Because it hurt? It hurt anyways—it just reinforced what he already knew.
Sokka held him close to his chest. He was warm—he always was—and it was cold out tonight.
He was so small. Sokka had never noticed before; his presence was too large—but he was. His arms and legs were muscled but thin, and he was at least three inches shorter than Sokka.
Sokka pulled him in tighter. He hummed, snuggling into his hold, and Sokka was so full of affection he couldn’t take it anymore.
”Come with us.”
”What?” The other boy shifted in Sokka’s arms to face him. Golden eyes met blue, furrowed and confused.
Sokka should stop. He shouldn’t talk about this-- not with him.
”Come with us.”
The smaller boy’s brow furrowed further. “Sokka-“ He began to pull away. Sokka held him tighter.
”No, Zuko, just listen.” Sokka’s eyes were a little wet, and he willed them to dry. It didn’t work. “ Come with us . You don’t need your father’s approval, or your sister’s, or anyone’s, just- please, Zuko.” His eyes were definitely wet now. “I- I really-“ Deep breath. “I love you, Zuko, and- and you can’t keep doing this.”
Zuko was silent, eyeing Sokka carefully. There was something behind his eyes—something Sokka couldn’t name or understand. He reached up slowly, brushing off a tear Sokka didn’t realize had fallen.
”Sokka.” His voice was even rougher than usual. “You know- you know I can’t, Sokka.”
”I- I know. But—if you change your mind- if- if something changes , Zuko- Send me a signal. I’ll find you.”
Zuko looked up at him with sad eyes, looking so regretful already. “I won’t, Sokka. You know that.”
Apparently Sokka didn’t know that, because here he was, for the millionth time, fanning campfire flames and manipulating the smoke with a tent covering to send out the smoke signal he’d shown Zuko. And just like the past 999,999 times, there was no response to be seen.
Maybe Zuko was dead. He hadn’t seen him in almost a month—in Avatar-hunting settings or otherwise.
Sokka couldn’t even entertain the possibility. Zuko was Zuko— he possessed resilience and stubborn determination Sokka had never seen matched. He couldn’t be dead. Sokka would not let him.
A bright flash snapped Sokka out of his thoughts. He looked to the tree-line to see another shot of fire peaking up, and his heart skipped a beat, then pounded double-time to make up for it.
It had worked. Zuko was here.
Sokka had never run so fast in his life. He sprinted through the forest, pausing only to allow the next signal to confirm his navigation.
The flares led him to a clearing. The grass was soft under his feet, and Sokka realized he’d just run through the forest without shoes. Other sections of grass were charred, along with some trees. Sokka arrived in time to see Zuko’s last signal—to see him tilt back his head and blow fire into the sky.
Sokka stood frozen at the edge of the clearing. Zuko lowered his head, and his eyes found Sokka. Zuko’s hair was different now—no longer that strange ponytail, now hanging loosely around his face. It stuck up at odd angles—he’d been running his hands through it—but it suited him. Anything would.
For a moment, they just stared at each other.
Then Sokka started running. Zuko took a few steps to meet him. He pulled the smaller boy into a kiss, full of love but quick—he had a lot he needed to say: where have you been, why are you here, where’s your crew and your uncle... et cetera.
”’Told you so,” Sokka breathed instead, inches away from Zuko’s face. There were tear tracks down his cheeks, and he had dark circles under his eyes, but he was here .
Spirits, he was here.
He wanted to ask what had happened—where he’d gone, what made him come—but he took one look at Zuko’s shaking form and decided they could wait.
He held Zuko tight, probably too tight, but Zuko didn’t complain, holding back with just as much desperation.
”I’m sorry,” Zuko choked out, “Agni, Sokka, I’m so sorry . I-” But Sokka shushed him. Apologies and explanations could come later. Or not at all—Sokka was just glad Zuko was here.
After a few moments, Zuko pulled away to look at Sokka. “I- I can’t go now,” he said. “Can we stay here until morning?”
Instead of an answer, Sokka pulled Zuko back to him, then pulled them both to the ground. They had no tent, but neither boys were strangers to sleeping on the grass.
As he was drifting off, he heard Zuko speak faintly.
“I love you, Sokka.”
Smiling softly into Zuko’s hair, Sokka answered.
“Love you, too.”