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Sokka immediately regrets not reading this patient’s chart before entering the exam room.
In hindsight, this is probably why Jin tried to flag him down before he walked in. Instead of hearing her out like a smart man, he brushed her off because he was running late and insisted he'd read the chart as he introduces himself, it'll be fine, don't worry!
No wonder she'd thrown up her hands and stormed off to the back.
Because sitting on the exam room table is a chicken.
It's a nice looking chicken, he supposes. Pretty feathers. Fluffy.
Then Sokka notices the chicken's owner, and oh, shit.
Chicken Owner is gorgeous.
Hot Chicken Owner is also distraught.
"Hi, uh, Dr. Amarok? Nice to meet you. I'm Zuko. Thank you so much for seeing us today, I know it's a little unusual but you guys take such good care of my cat Druk and I wasn't sure who would see chickens so I just panicked and came here, and Jin was so nice and said she'd get us in. Something is horribly wrong with Duckie, and I need her to be okay, she's my favorite, shehastobeokay --" The panicked rambling tapers off into soft shushing when Duckie the Chicken emits a couple thoughtful bawks.
Sokka's brain is still processing, cataloguing the dark, shaggy hair framing an angular face, red-rimmed eyes and a badass scar of mysterious origins, broad shoulders with toned arms, a soft, raspy voice--
Fuck, I'm too gay for this. Don't objectify the fucking clients, Sokka. Get it together. Be a professional. This man has a chicken. Your job is to take care of the chicken.
"Hi, Zuko. Nice to meet you. I'm Dr. Amarok, but please just call me Sokka. I'll do my best to help you and Duckie." Sokka's pretty sure he sounds like a confident, whole-ass-DVM and not someone having a bit of a meltdown over a pretty boy and his chicken.
Hot Chicken Owner-- Zuko-- visibly sags. The chicken in question continues to look, well, chicken-ish. Sokka tries to school his expression into something distant and professional, but still warm.
"Sorry for the word vomit. I just really love her, and I'm so worried. I need her to be okay." Zuko's voice cracks a bit on the last syllable. His face is open and pleading, burnt honey-colored eyes beseeching Sokka for answers he’s not sure he can give. But goddamn, he’s gonna try.
Sokka needs to compartmentalize immediately before he reverts to his natural disaster bisexual state. He desperately skims the chart, hoping Jin's looping script will provide clarity.
NAME: Duckie Sozin
OWNER: Zuko Sozin
SPECIES: Chicken
BREED: chicken? He said something specific but I mean...chicken
COLOR: black and gold with diamond-like markings
AGE: 18 months
SEX: F
ALTERED: can you spay a chicken? Either way, no
DIET: chicken food?
CONCERNS: rough feathers, feather loss, stopped laying eggs
WEIGHT: 2.47KG
VITALS: bright and alert; respiration seems normal; unsure how to check pulse on chicken; lungs sounded clear?
Sokka really needs to talk to Jin about the importance of charting without editorializing. Admittedly, this is new territory for the office.
Okay, okay, you know how to do this. Just pretend it’s a cat. Be cool, Sokka.
"I totally understand. Pets are family, and it's very scary when something isn't right. I’m going to do a quick physical exam on her. Can you tell me a bit more about what's worrying you?" Great job, Sokka congratulates himself. Get him talking so you have fewer chances to sound like an idiot.
Zuko hands over the chicken and takes an edifying breath.
"So, Duckie is a rescue. She and the rest of her flock were dumped on the side of the road in a big box about six months ago. A friend stopped to move the box, and realized there were 15 birds in it!” Zuko’s face crumples in anger. “Who does that? They were just left to die!”
Sokka wishes he’s shocked to hear that, but becoming a veterinarian has done nothing to improve his opinion of humanity at large.
“That’s awful,” he agrees. “I’m really glad you found her.”
Sokka runs his hands over the bird, feeling her soft feathers. There’s a few areas on her back where it looks like she’s lost feathers, but there’s no sign of a wound or marred skin. It looks like new feathers are growing back. Peering into her eyes, they look bright, attentive, and very judgmental. He goes to prod at her beak and is rewarded with a peck and an indignant chicken noise. Zuko huffs out a laugh, so Sokka doesn’t mind too much.
“Me, too. Ty Lee--the friend who found them--took the box home and tried to keep them in her backyard. Most of the birds were horribly scared and feral, but Duckie here….she’s so friendly. She comes up to the door and waits for you to come outside, and she sits on your lap on the porch. She really likes to ride around on my shoulder like a parrot.”
The warmth in Zuko’s expression could heat a small Alaskan village through the winter. Sokka wants to bask in it.
“I fell in love with her when she ran up to greet me, and then spent my entire visit either on my lap or my shoulder. Ty Lee said she was always friendly, but never like she was with me. She picked me.” Something about the wonder in Zuko’s voice when he says that makes Sokka’s heart hurt. It’s the tone of someone who’s not used to being picked first--or at all.
“So, that’s how I wound up with a chicken. Did you know chickens can actually make good house pets?” Sokka did not. He does not know anything about chickens, a fact which he is becoming increasingly aware of as he tries to figure out how the fuck to perform a physical exam on a chicken. “I named her Duckie, because it just suits her, and when she’s really happy she makes these soft little noises that sound like quacking.”
“Do you make happy little quacks, hmmm?” Sokka asks the chicken, hoping that maybe she’ll reveal her secrets if she can’t smell his fear.
Or is that horses? Whatever.
The bird keeps her secrets, but the smile that illuminates Zuko’s face while he watches Sokka talk to Duckie is worth it.
“She’s very lucky to have you,” Sokka says. “So, what made you bring her in today?”
The way that Zuko’s face falls again makes Sokka wish he’d kept his mouth shut, even if it is essential information. Zuko’s face should never look sad. “Well, I’ve had her for about five months, and during that time she would lay an egg every other day, on the dot. And her feathers were always immaculate! I would find one on the floor every so often, but it was rare. But about a week ago, she stopped laying. I searched all over the house and backyard to see if she’d found a new spot, but nothing! I was worried, but she seemed okay, still eating and drinking and snuggling with Druk and I on the couch.”
That mental image is almost too cute for Sokka to bear. Get it together, man; just help this chicken and have a crisis about client/vet relationships later.
“Then this morning, I woke up and it looked like a chicken had exploded in her crate! I picked her up and more feathers were falling off everywhere, and she has these bald patches, and something is horribly wrong! I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong, maybe it’s her diet, I don’t know, but I brought her straight here in the hopes that you guys could help. I need her to be okay, I can’t lose her yet--” Zuko’s working himself into hysterics, hands wringing on the table and a dangerous brightness forming in his eyes. Sokka needs to stop this immediately before it escalates to hugging the pretty, crying client in an attempt to comfort him. He puts on his best I’m a professional and I’m here to help voice.
“Okay, it’s okay. We’re gonna find the answer for you and Duckie, alright?”
A nod. Figuring that’s as good as he’s gonna get, Sokka continues.
“So, she looks good on her clinical exam. She’s bright and alert, her breathing sounds good, and she doesn’t seem to be painful anywhere.” Sokka’s grateful that she tolerated his fumbling poke-and-prod approximation of a physical exam; he’s not going to tell Zuko that he imagined what a whole roast chicken looks like to get a better sense of bird anatomy. Improvisation is key, okay? “Other than the bald spots, I don’t see anything major. Which is great news!”
Enthusiasm is also key. Enthusiasm makes it seem like Sokka knows what he is doing.
“So, next steps: I’m going to take her in the back and perform a more thorough physical, and consult some literature,” which is code for frantically Google, consult some manuals, and call some colleagues, “to see if there’s any tests we need to run. I don’t think it will take more than 20 minutes. You’re welcome to stay in here, or you can go sit in the waiting room. Which would you prefer?”
“Um, I think--I think I would prefer to stay here, if that’s okay.”
“Absolutely no problem! Just hang tight, and I’ll be back shortly, alright?” Sokka picks up Duckie gently, and since she doesn’t complain beyond vague chicken noises, he figures she’s not overly offended by his technique.
“Thank you, Dr. A--Sokka. Thank you so much.” The sincere gratitude in Zuko’s voice and expression cause Sokka physical pain. Fuck.
He flees, chicken in hand.
--
Sokka needs a plan. Step one: get Jin. Thankfully, Jin is easy to find; she’s in the back playing with Momo, the clinic cat.
"Jin! I need you to look something up."
"Shoot, boss."
"Chicken illnesses."
"What." Jin’s giving him a look. Momo issues a plaintive meow. It’s probably because Jin stopped playing with him, but Sokka thinks it sounds chastising.
"Look, I don't know shit about chickens, okay, but Google probably does. Just get me a list with symptoms that include feather loss and cessation of egg laying, and I can work from there.”
"How did it end up that you are my boss?"
“I’m older and you haven’t graduated vet school yet. Let me know what you find, I’m going to go make some calls.”
“Are….are you going to carry the chicken with you?”
Sokka looks down at Duckie. Duckie looks up at him, a vague threat in her eyes.
“Yes.”
--
Step two: call Katara. She knows things.
“Kat, my most wonderful baby sister!”
“Sokka, what did you do? Why are you calling me in the middle of the day? Is something wrong? You know if there’s an emergency you need to call 911, not me, I’m not an ER doctor! Where is Suki?” Katara’s well on her way to A Lecture. This was probably a bad step two, but he’s in it now.
“Everyone is fine! Don’t worry, this isn’t an emergency! I just have a question.”
Silence.
“What do you know about chickens?”
“WHAT?”
“Look, okay, someone brought in a chicken, and--” Katara cuts him off before he can explain.
“For fuck’s sake, Sokka, I am a doctor, not a vet. You are the vet. I don’t know anything about chickens! Why are you calling me and not other vets? Why are you even seeing a chicken?”
“Frankly, I can’t answer your last question. I probably need to talk to Suki, but right now I would do anything to help this beautiful man and his chicken, okay?”
Sokka recognizes his fatal mistake right as he hears Katara’s intake of breath on the other line. He is so going to pay for this.
“Sokka. Amarok. Are you lusting after a client?”
“No?”
He hangs up.
“Hey Jin! Ignore any calls from Katara, okay?”
Glancing down at the chicken chilling in his arms, he muses, “Were your sisters like that? Is that why you chose the company of humans over chickenkind?”
His musings are ignored.
--
Step three: find Suki, his best friend, ex-girlfriend, fellow veterinarian, and business partner. She also knows things, possibly including why the fuck they accepted an appointment for a chicken.
She’s in her office doing paperwork, completely unperturbed by Sokka’s current crisis.
“Suuuuuuuuuuki,” he whines in the way she hates. “Why are we seeing a chicken? What do you know about chickens? I don’t know anything about chickens.”
Suki turns away from her computer, squinting over her reading glasses. “Wait, Jin wasn’t joking about a chicken coming in?”
Hoisting Duckie into the air, Sokka hopes his expression says what do you think?
“Huh. I don’t know shit about chickens.”
“Me neither! But there is a gorgeous and very concerned client who cares very deeply about this particular chicken in one of our exam rooms, and I am going to help him.”
Several things happen at once. Suki grimaces. Sokka groans. Duckie makes a dinosaur noise and flaps her wings angrily. It’s a near thing, but he manages not to drop her; instead, he finds himself with a chicken on his shoulder. She pecks at the silver stud in his ear.
“Hey hey hey! Not the jewelry, bird!”
Suki’s tinkling laugh interrupts Sokka’s battle with Duckie. “I only know of one person who might be able to help with chickens.”
“ No.”
Suki shrugs. “Then you’re the one who has to tell the gorgeous client ,” her raised eyebrow says what her words do not, “that we can’t help him.”
“Fuck.”
--
Sokka's exhausted all other options. The only choice remaining to him is abhorrent, but he'll do it for Duckie (he'll do it for Zuko).
Step four: He has to call Jet.
Fucker picks up on the third ring.
"Boomerang boy!"
"Mouthwheat."
"To what do I owe the incredible pleasure of your call?" Jet's drawl has not changed a bit since they graduated from vet school.
"What do you know about chickens?"
Dead silence lingers for a moment too long before Jet bursts into laughter.
"You mother- ha- fucker! Hahaha! I do equine medicine! Horses, you dipshit! Sometimes a cow! Why the fuck are you calling me about a chicken?!"
Sokka should probably call his dentist. His mouth hurts when he grits his teeth this hard.
"Do you or do you not know anything about chickens."
Jet's chuckles give way to a pause, then, "Maybe."
So this is how it's gonna be.
"What do you want in exchange for chicken intel?"
"Next three happy hours are on you."
"I'll do next two."
"Next four."
"Oh, fuck you. Three, then."
"Excellent. What fowl knowledge can I bequeath upon you, young Padawan?"
Sokka tells him. Jet, unfortunately and as always, is exceptionally helpful.
--
Sokka secretly hoped Zuko would be less stunningly attractive after a few minutes apart, but he was wrong. If anything, the way he looks up when the door opens, equal parts eager and terrified, only softens Sokka’s heart further.
“Well? Is she okay? What do I need to do?” He’s standing up now, bouncing on his toes and hands hidden behind his back.
Sokka is so relieved that he has good news to share. Going over the list of possibilities with Jin after his conversation with Jet had been enlightening and horrifying; chickens are complicated, simultaneously fragile and incredibly resilient. Thankfully, all signs point to something totally normal.
“Well, after conferring with my colleagues and checking her over more closely, I have great news to share! There’s absolutely nothing wrong with Duckie here.” Sokka beams.
“What? But what about the feathers? Are you sure? What if you’re wrong?”
Sokka gives Zuko his best reassuring smile. “I’m positive. She’s going through something called a molt. Chickens do it every year around the fall, when the days get shorter. They stop laying, shed their feathers, and use the time for their bodies to rest. They look kinda funny for awhile, but it’s totally normal and healthy. You can add some extra protein to her diet for a month or two to help her with feather growth, but she’s going to be okay, I promise.”
Both men watch intently as Duckie prances around on the exam table, enjoying her freedom from Sokka’s shoulder. Zuko’s face keeps shifting in a series of unreadable expressions, before settling on something soft and hopeful as he meets Sokka’s eyes.
“Really?” Sokka’s heart breaks at the fragility in Zuko’s voice.
“Really,” he smiles back.
Suddenly, Sokka has an armful of overjoyed client, bundled up into a bone-cracking hug.
“Thank you so much, I was so scared, oh my god,” Zuko mumbles into his coat. Sokka is frozen, trying to process hot client is hugging me hot client is hugging me oh god-- before settling on briefly patting Zuko’s back. Zuko stiffens and pulls back, leaving Sokka to mourn the loss of contact.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what--oh my god, that was so unprofessional, um, thank you so much, I’m sorry,” he’s rambling again, staring wide-eyed at Sokka before grabbing Duckie’s carrier and gently shoving her inside. “I really appreciate everything, I’m so grateful, you have no idea, I’m so sorry for grabbing you like that, I was just so relieved, fuck!”
Still reeling, Sokka’s aware enough to recognize the voice in his head chanting fix this, fix this, say something you moron, fix this. He chokes out words he hopes are reasonable and not please do that again.
“No, seriously, it’s okay! I understand! It’s a big relief, especially when you’re so worried about your pets. It didn’t bother me at all.”
Zuko seems unconvinced, but mollified enough that he no longer looks ready to climb out the window.
“Thank you again, Dr. Amarok.”
Please call me Sokka. “Anytime. That’s what we’re here for.” His last words feel a bit like broken glass in his throat. “Jin will help you check out up front.”
Zuko nods and shuffles past with an awkward smile. He hesitates in the door, but shakes his head minutely and walks out to the front.
“What the fuck,” Sokka mutters to himself.
--
It’s been two weeks, and Sokka hasn’t stopped thinking about Zuko. He keeps the pining to himself, not wanting to hear the jokes at his expense or the concerned “you know how unprofessional that is, Sokka” from his sister.
It’s not like it’s affecting his day to day life. It just may have highlighted his chronic singleness and inability to put himself out there.
It’s fine, really.
He’ll get over the liquid gold eyes and painfully earnest face and bright smile and mysterious scar and overwhelmingly endearing mannerisms eventually.
These are the lies he tells himself in his car, along with I’m so glad I got into veterinary medicine and I don’t regret not running away to write questionable poetry. It’s fine.
Such are his thoughts when he meanders over to the local bar for Happy Hour. The biweekly get-together started while Jet, Sokka, and Suki were in vet school, and became a long-standing tradition for catching up and occasionally getting wasted. Other folks come and go; Aang and Katara are regulars, Toph comes when she’s not busy terrorizing students in the lab, Haru has been coming consistently since he and Jet figured out their feelings are mutual, Smellerbee, Longshot, and Jin swing by when they feel like putting up with their respective bosses outside work hours.
The ever-rotating cast of characters is why Sokka doesn’t think much of it when Jet tells him he’ll be bringing someone tonight, or when he sees Jet waiting outside the bar with another person. It’s probably just Haru or something; Sokka’s too caught in his own head to look closely.
Then Jet waves, shit-eating grin plastered across his face, and Jet’s friend looks over at Sokka, and fuck.
It’s Zuko.
Zuko, who looks stunning in a plain black v-neck with a leather jacket over the top, sinfully tight skinny jeans and a shoe situation that Sokka doesn’t even notice because he’s too busy raking his eyes back up to take in the shy smile and artfully mussed hair. What the fuck? Sokka’s not sure whether to kill Jet or praise him; supposes it will depend on why, exactly, Jet brought the beautiful mostly-stranger.
“Well hello there, Sokka! How are you on this lovely evening?” Jet crows.
“Jet.” Sokka eyes him warily, like a dog the owner insists won’t bite but is giving all indications it’s a biter anyway. “Zuko,” he smiles at the other man.
Jet rolls his eyes and mutters something unintelligible that makes Zuko blush.
“Fine! Fine. I try to do one nice thing for you and this is how you thank me.”
“ What are you talking about?” Sokka’s really quite confused, and also distracted because blushing Zuko, and goddamn it, Sokka did not prepare for this.
“Well, my dear colleague, I’ve known Zuko here for several years. We met back in undergrad.”
Sokka makes a go on gesture, cocking an eyebrow at Zuko, who only blushes harder.
“We kept in touch, blablabla, you know the drill. Good buds, and all that. Which is why, when Zuko called me to ramble about this beautiful vet who took such amazing care of Duckie and was so sweet and smelled so --” Jet cuts off when Zuko kicks him hard in the shin, swearing in a language that might have been Mandarin.
Jet’s smile is devilish. Sokka either wants to fly or sink into the ground. Zuko thinks I’m beautiful?
“Aaaaaaanyway, since I’m such a good friend, like, the best friend, and I knew who he was talking about, I invited Zuko here to happy hour. Just to, you know, be a bro. You’re very welcome. You can give me credit at the wedding.”
Haru walks up just in time to witness Zuko and Sokka engage in some synchronized choking on air.
“Jet, babe, what’s going on?”
“Oh, nothing. Just joking around. Let’s go inside, honey. You two play nice, now.” Jet snuggles up under Haru’s outstretched arm, tosses a jaunty wave towards the two still-reeling men, and the pair disappears inside. Fucker.
Then there were two.
Sokka’s studying the wall over Zuko’s right shoulder, debating the merits of running away. Zuko’s intensely studying a piece of gum on the sidewalk.
Fuck it, he concludes. What’s the worst that can happen? I can always move across the country and start a new practice. Maybe hide in the woods and write shitty haikus.
“So,” Sokka starts at the same time that Zuko looks up and says “Can I….”
They both break off with shy smiles, Sokka chuckling to himself. Softly, he prods, “What were you going to say?”
“Can I…...can I kiss you?” Zuko’s blushing again, face lit up like a firework show, but he meets Sokka’s eyes and the intensity in his gaze belies his apparent hesitance. Sokka’s skin feels too tight, like he might tear apart at any moment, drawn towards this veritable stranger in front of him.
He doesn’t care. They don’t have to be strangers for long.
Sokka’s silent long enough for Zuko to question himself, if the uncertain frown and growing tension in his shoulders are any indication. I can’t have that.
Sokka smiles softly and steps slowly into Zuko’s space, reaching for the slightly shorter man’s hand. “Are you sure?”
Zuko swallows hard and nods, gaze flicking between Sokka’s eyes and lips. “ I’m so sure. Wanted to--since--since the appointment, when you were so sweet, and kind, and you didn’t make fun of me for worrying, and Duckie liked you, and you took care of us, and you’re beautiful, and I just. Want. I want.”
It’s seeing the way Zuko’s bottom lip nervously rolls between his teeth that finally does Sokka in. He needs to know how those lips feel.
“I want, too.” Sokka murmurs as he leans in.
--
Jet buys them a round when they eventually make it inside, setting up at a booth far away from their friends to chat and get to know each other.
The conversation wanders wildly, touching on everything from past traumas to favorite cartoons. Zuko’s a writer, and he’s funny, with a dry wit that leaves Sokka cackling into his drink. He’s deeply passionate about his work, his loved ones--family is apparently a loaded issue, but Sokka knows they have time--and animals. He’s vehement about theatre, insisting that one of their future dates will be a show so Sokka can experience a quality production.
(Zuko freezes when he realizes what he just said, backtracking quickly.
“I mean, um, if you want. To do this again, I mean. I understand if not. That was...that was presumptive of me.”
Sokka grabs Zuko’s hand and squeezes, tilting his head to meet Zuko’s eyes.
“I’d love to do this again. And so much more.”
Zuko practically melts into Sokka’s side.)
He’s warm, and surprisingly tactile, leaning into Sokka’s brief touches until they’re eventually plastered together shoulder to shoulder in the booth.
Sokka’s a little bit in love.
They lose hours in each other, too absorbed in their little world to notice when their friends leave. It’s not until June kicks them out so she can close that they realize it’s close to midnight.
It’s the best impromptu date of Sokka’s life.
Even when Jet texts him u owe me bigtime bruh later that night, he can’t bring himself to mind.
--
Sokka’s reunion with Duckie goes better than he expected.
He’s reluctant to admit that he’s nervous about meeting his boyfriend’s pet chicken again, but, well….he is. This bird means a lot.
Zuko instructs him to ply her with mealworms, which seems to do the trick quite well, and she spends most of the night alternating between Zuko’s shoulder and frisking Sokka for hidden treats.
He’s a little salty when she interrupts a makeout session by flapping onto Zuko’s head and squawking for no discernible reason, but he forgives her when Zuko buries his helpless laughter into Sokka’s collarbone.
Taking the hint, they snuggle up to finish watching the movie and give Duckie the attention she deserves. Druk sleeps behind them, tail draped over Zuko’s shoulder.
Duckie sits between them, feathers fluffed in satisfaction. She makes a purring noise…..and then emits a small, soft, quack.