Chapter Text
Sokka avoids going to Aang's apartment at all costs. It's not because he doesn't like Aang or anything-- he loves Aang, he can't wait until he gets the balls to finally propose to his sister. They've been dating since freshman year of college, and now that they're two years graduated, Katara's heart rate speeds up every time Aang bends down to tie his shoe. He goes on every family vacation, celebrates every birthday, even takes the fifteen-hour flight from JFK to Nunavut without complaint. And ever since Aang's guardian Gyatso died a few years ago, he's become even more like a part of the family. Hakoda lovingly calls him 'son', and Sokka really, truly considers him to be a brother. Hell, he even has his own room at their house.
So, needless to say, Aang is not the reason that Sokka hates going to Aang's apartment. It's his selfish, stuck-up, greedy, antisocial, overall-absolute-misery-to-be-around roommate.
Zuko Sozin is the worst person that Sokka knows, by a landslide. Sokka would literally rather listen to nails on a chalkboard than have to hold a conversation with the guy. He almost never comes out of his room, and when he does, he makes sure to insult every single person present before returning. One time, he told Sokka that he'd have a 'sparsely attended funeral.' On another occasion, he called him a 'cumberworld.' Once Sokka had gone home and googled the definition, he'd been very offended.
To this day, Sokka doesn't know why Aang moved in with such an asshole. They were roommates in college, sure, but it would've made more sense for Aang to move in with him and Suki. Sokka thinks it's a money thing-- Gyatso's inheritance left him enough cash to live in an absolutely enormous, gorgeously furnished apartment, while Sokka's stuck in a tiny studio using cardboard boxes as furniture. Still, Aang has enough to live in a moderately-priced building by himself, so Sokka has no idea why he chose to live with such a shitty human being.
Drawing in a heavy breath to steel himself for the ensuing interaction, Sokka knocks on Aang's door. He really wishes that he didn't have to be here, but here's the thing: he's kind of a fucking idiot. Aang had offered to have Sokka over for some drinks, and Sokka really isn't one to say no to free alcohol, so he went. He made it through the subway, all the way home, and up the stairs to his apartment before he realized that he didn't have his key. After banging on the door for twenty minutes, he checked his phone and saw Suki's text from hours ago informing him that she was spending the night at her girlfriend's. He called her no less than eleven times, to no avail; it was nearly 3 AM, and she was probably asleep. So Sokka drug his ass back through New York to Aang's apartment, ill-prepared to deal with Zuko (who, in his most recent bout of drama, and said to Sokka in a completely serious, dull voice: "Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit, for I am sick when I do look on thee," then left the room). Zuko will probably be asleep, though, so Sokka (hopefully) won't have to deal with him. He'll just slip in, grab his keys, then slip out.
Except Zuko isn't sleeping. He's answering the door, face bright red and cheeks wet with tears.
"What do you want?" He spits, voice still seething venom despite his disheveled appearance.
"Zuko?" Aang calls from inside the apartment. "Who is it?"
"Nobody," Zuko declares firmly, looking Sokka right in the eyes. It stings more than it should.
Zuko moves to close the door, but Sokka sticks his foot in the opening. "It's Sokka," He calls to Aang. "I think I left my keys here."
Aang appears behind Zuko, reaching around him and wrenching the door open. Zuko gives up and stalks back into the apartment. "Oh, really? Haven't seen them. You're welcome to look around, though!"
He steps aside, allowing Sokka to enter the apartment. Zuko is posed at one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, very angstily looking out at the skyline. Briefly, Sokka wonders why he's crying. Then, he remembers that Zuko is a grade-A asshole who probably deserves it, and keeps moving.
Sokka begins with the couch. This was where the night progressed from beer into shots, so it's probably likely that his keys slipped out of his pocket here. As he's digging his hand into every crevice of Aang's thousand-dollar cushions, he hears Zuko sigh.
"Aang, I need you to do this one thing for me, please," His voice is shaking, like he's about to start crying again.
"I'm sorry, Zuko, but I--" Aang pauses suddenly. Startled, Sokka looks up from the sofa. Aang is starting right at him, an indiscernible look on his face, but he quickly jerks his head away. Sokka goes back to his search. "You know that I can't."
"Don't make me beg."
It's Aang's turn to sigh. "I won't, because it won't help. I'm really sorry, Zuko, but I can't."
"Fine," Zuko says sharply. "You, Alaska boy."
Alaska boy?
Sokka raises his head slowly from the couch, coming up off his knees. He can feel himself seething already. He's going to ruin this man's life, crying or not. He's going to chuck him right through his dumb little windows. He's going to shatter his stupid fucking Rolex. "My name is Sokka, we've known each other for six years, and I'm Canadian."
"Whatever," Zuko narrows his eyes, his tone dismissive. The crying boy that was pleading with Aang is dead and gone. "Will you pretend to be my boyfriend at my cousin's wedding?"
The question hits Sokka like a ton of bricks. His first intuition is to laugh, hysterically. He has to be joking, right? The two of them, always at each other's throats, pretending to be a couple? His family thinking he has a boyfriend is that serious? "No," He manages to speak through his laughter. "Are you fucking kidding? Of course not."
Zuko, however, remains deadly serious. "I'll pay you one thousand dollars for every day you're there."
Sokka stops laughing. So he really isn't kidding.
"Wait!" Aang whines. He hops down from off the counter he's perched himself on. "You didn't offer me any money!"
Zuko rolls his eyes. "My family would've never believed I'm dating a 5'5" bald kid, anyway."
Sokka's jaw drops. Most of Zuko's ire is usually directed at Sokka, it's almost never shot at Aang. In response, Aang delivers a singular, disappointed look that makes Zuko groan.
"I'm sorry."
Sokka's never ever heard Zuko apologize, not once.
"Forgiven," Aang sings, before hopping back onto the counter.
Sokka thinks he may have whiplash. Zuko asking him to be his fake boyfriend, offering him a thousand bucks a day just to do it, then apologizing? What the fuck is going on? Is he drunker than he thought? Is this a hallucination?
"It's in Japan, in a couple weeks. Fourteen days. I'll cover all expenses, take you shopping, whatever entertains your dim-witted brain."
The 'dim-witted' part sails over Sokka's head because fourteen thousand dollars. He could really, really use fourteen grand. He could get actual furniture, maybe even a TV, and a new bike with a nicer lock that won't get broken as easily. And he could splurge and buy that pair of sneakers he's had his eyes on for weeks. Plus, a free vacation to Japan doesn't sound bad, either. Toph's been interning there for almost a year now, maybe he could pay her a visit.
"You're going to pay me fourteen thousand dollars to fake being your boyfriend for two weeks?" Sokka asks incredulously. He is quite literally struggling to believe it.
Zuko looks to the ceiling, as if he's doing the math in his head. Like he hadn't even calculated it before making the offer. "Yeah, sure. Fourteen thousand dollars."
Okay, so Zuko is a) filthy fucking rich and b) desperate. Which means Sokka has a few bargaining chips. "Okay, I'll do it," Relief floods Zuko's face. "If you stop insulting me and apologize for being a dick."
Zuko steps over into Sokka's personal space, face set like stone. "I apologize. For calling you dim-witted, sickening, a cumberworld, a snoutband, smooth-brained, narcissistic, a blubbering fool, a princox, a coxcomb, choler excessive, and a loon."
Sokka frowns. "You never called me a loon."
"Oh really?" Zuko cocks an eyebrow, voice devoid of any hint of surprise. "I should have."
Already, Zuko's broken the agreement. Sokka tries to mimic the magic look Aang delivered a few minutes ago that made him apologize. It doesn't work, and Zuko just rolls his eyes.
Sokka points a finger at him. "No more eye rolling."
Zuko huffs angrily in response.
"Or angry huffs," He adds. Zuko purses his lips, unsure of another way to voice his annoyance. "Look, if we're going to do this, you're gonna have to make it more than five seconds without looking like you want to murder me."
Zuko huffs. Before Sokka can open his mouth to call him out on breaking his conditions, Zuko's interrupts him. "I wasn't huffing at you, I was huffing at the situation. Don't be so arrogant."
"Insult!" Aang perks up in the background. Momentarily, Sokka had forgotten he was even there. "Apology."
Sokka can see Zuko's eyes roll halfway before he catches himself. He hadn't realized how close they were standing until just now, with Zuko's designer cologne starting to drift into his nose. He can see where the tears dried on Zuko's cheeks. "I'm sorry," He drawls, ridiculously insincere. It's the way Sokka used to apologize to Katara when they were children and Hakoda forced him to. Sokka lets it slide.
"Forgiven."
"Good," Zuko steps out of Sokka's atmosphere, and it feels like a trance has been broken. He feels like he's been splashed with a bucket of ice cold water. Zuko retreats to his bedroom, loafers clacking on the tile. "Your keys are on the kitchen counter."
Sokka looks to Aang, dazed. There's a look on Aang's face that he can't decipher.
"Good luck," Aang chuckles. He picks Sokka's keys off the counter and toss them in his direction. They hit him square in the chest, then clatter to the floor.
"Oh," Sokka jolts, bending down to pick up his keys. Why does he feel so flustered, all of the sudden? "Right. Thanks."
-
When Sokka arrives home, he crashes on the first bed in sight. It's Suki's, but she won't mind. Sharing a studio apartment with your ex means making a lot of concessions, especially in personal space. The only thing separating their beds is a flimsy divider they nicked from Goodwill, and they only have one dresser that they share. Both of them have completely given up trying to change in private, on the basis that they saw each other naked plenty of times when they were dating. There's no feelings-- romantic or sexual-- remaining, they're both sure of that. Suki's been dating this girl from her gym, Miya, for a few months now, while Sokka's been... experimenting. It's New York City and he's twenty-four, so he's trying to have the time of his life.
He notices two things when he wakes up in the morning: 1) Suki is still not back from Miya's and 2) he's going to smell like her for the rest of the day. He cooks himself his signature hangover breakfast, comprised mostly of bread to soak up the leftover alcohol in his stomach. Normally, Suki is home when he eats breakfast, so her absence leaves Sokka feeling lonely. To make up for it, he facetimes Katara.
"I hate Canada," She says as soon as the call connects. Sokka props her up against the counter so he has both hands free to eat his toast. She must be walking somewhere, as she's bundled up in a coat and scarf while snowflakes land in her hair. Faintly, he can hear her boots crunching the snow. "Why did you let me move back here while you and Aang stayed in New York?"
Sokka snorts. "We begged you to stay in the city, Katara. You wanted to do EMT training at home."
"I lied," Katara deadpans. "You should've stopped me."
The coffeepot dings. Sokka grabs a mug from the cabinet (Toph got it for him a few Christmases ago. It features a possum with the quote 'Eat trash, hail Satan.' It is both the worst and best thing he owns.) and pours himself a cup. "It snows in New York, too, you know."
"It's May, Sokka."
Sokka shrugs. They pass a few moments in comfortable silence before Katara speaks up again.
"So, what where you up to last night?"
"Oh my god!" Sokka shrieks, excitedly setting his coffee mug down. "I can't believe I forgot to tell you!"
"What, tell me what?" Katara sounds cautious, which makes sense considering prior events. The last thing Sokka 'couldn't believe he forgot to tell her' was his stick-and-poke he got in college that said, simply, 'fuck.'
Sokka spends a few seconds trying to work out how to explain the events of last night in a way that makes sense, then completely aborts that mission and decides to just hit her with it. "Zuko offered to pay me $14,000 to pretend to be his boyfriend at his cousin's wedding in Japan."
Katara stops walking. "What?"
"I said yes," Sokka clarifies. "So, that's happening."
Katara resumes walking, much slower now. "I-- Wh-- please break this down for me."
As Sokka opens mouth to elaborate, a text comes in from an unknown number: Meet for coffee in an hour? Then, the address to what Sokka knows to be a very, very expensive cafe that he has actually never set foot in. He doesn't need to ask who is it to know that it's Zuko, who probably got his number from Aang. Maybe it's a power thing, but he asks, anyway.
"Um, hello?" Katara calls from the speaker. "Did you just put your only sibling on pause?"
"Sorry," Sokka taps the top of the screen to bring her face back. "So I went to their place last night for drinks, and then promptly had to turn around and come back because I forgot my keys, and Zuko was..." Sokka remembers the glisten of tears on Zuko's face and chooses to omit that detail. "He was angry about something, trying to convince Aang to fake being his boyfriend, then he offered to pay me $14,000 to do it and I thought 'hey, free money is nice,' so I said yes."
"It's not 'free money,' Sokka," Katara chides. "You hate Zuko, now you have to fake being in love with him? Is that even possible?"
The number-- Zuko-- texts him back.
It's Zuko, dumbass.
Then, seconds later:
Sorry. No more insults. See you in an hour?
Sokka types out 'forgiven,' then a confirmation. He returns to the call to see Katara's discontented face staring him right in the eyes. For an unknown reason, he finds himself blushing. He feels caught, somehow.
"How hard could it be?"