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Every morning Ambassador Sokka kicks through Zuko’s door and loudly sing-shouts at him, “rise and shine majesty mine!”
And every morning Zuko is already awake, has already been awake for hours. Sokka’s intrusions on his early morning meditation sessions don’t bother him, but he still tries to fake a scowl and tell him “one of these days I will have my guards throw you out, Sokka.” It’s an empty threat, they both know it, but Sokka never calls him out on it and this morning is no different.
His face lights up as he throws himself on Zuko’s crimson sheets, letting out a deep sigh as he gets comfortable.
“I think I’ll move in here. Your sheets are so much softer than mine.”
“We have the same sheets, Sokka.”
Sokka shakes his head as he cocoons himself deeper into Zuko’s bedspread mumbling to himself.
“Every day we wake up at the crack of ass, I drag myself out of my cold hard bed in that lonely room, and here you are living the dream with sheets made out of actual sunshine and feathers-”
Zuko rolls his eyes as he stands up to walk over to his bed where Sokka is completely buried in red.
“-so I’m moving in here! You can’t get rid of me if I live in your bed.”
It only takes one try for Zuko to find Sokka’s ankle through the tangle of sheets, and he yanks him hard out of his bed, laughing at Sokka’s strangled yelp as he falls to the floor. Messing around like this is easier than unpacking Sokka’s jokes. The idea of Sokka actually moving into his room and staying close to Zuko has his face as red as his bedspread and sends his heart racing with want.
“I’m not going to get rid of you, idiot.” Zuko says as Sokka stands up and rubs his leg with a mock pout. “Now come on, I have five different meetings today and more paperwork than-”
Sokka shakes his head as he begins to sort through Zuko's sheets in a poor attempt of making his bed.
“Nope, nuh-uh. No Firelord duties today.” Zuko raises his eyebrows and is about to protest before Sokka rushes on.
“Today you’re just Zuko, an ordinary twenty three year old and you're going to spend the day with your dearest friend.”
For a moment Zuko allows himself to play along, crossing his arms in thought before saying, “But Mai is visiting Kyoshi island this week-“
Sokka smacks him with a pillow and Zuko yelps in surprise.
“Shut up, majesty. I meant me, obviously. Besides,” Zuko sighs inwardly, not looking forward to having to tell Sokka ‘no’. “-before you have another panic attack, I already talked it out with Suki and some of your advisors. They’re willing to grant you today off.”
“No they’re not,” Zuko grumbles.
“Nope! They aren’t!” Sokka agrees cheerfully, wrapping his arm around Zuko's shoulder and steering him out of the room. “But they’ll have to go through me first and I’m feeling a little restless today.”
Sokka's arms are warm and strong, and he can’t help the feeling of safety steadily making its way into his entire being. He can’t say no if he wants to, and Agni help him, he doesn’t want to.
He lets Sokka drag him through the halls of his own palace, still in his night clothes, and tells himself this is close enough. This is enough. Zuko has always been a master at lying to himself.
Sokka pulls him down a busy alley where carts selling a variety of meats and noodles line the streets. The day is nearing its end, and after having been stopped by any and every passerby in the palace Zuko and Sokka hadn’t had much time, just the two of them. They’re giggly from sake and Sokka has his warm arms around Zuko’s shoulders.
It’s a warm summer evening, all the stars are out and the last rays of the sun are finally starting to set. It’s well past dinner time and they’ve already ate at Zuko’s favorite noodle place, but Sokka’s eyes are huge and his stomach growls and Zuko buys him everything he wants from the street markets they’re aimlessly wandering.
“Thanks for the meat kebab Highness,” Sokka says with a mock bow. He’s walking on top of the stone railing that trails the path while Zuko stays on the ground. Even with his dark cloak hiding his scar, it would be undignified to find the Firelord strutting across royal property. He’s told Sokka this a dozen times already.
Zuko scowls and pushes him over. Sokka holds the kebab over his head as he falls, saving it from splattering across the dirt path.
“Hey man watch it!” Sokka yelps, but he’s laughing. “We can’t waste precious meat!”
Zuko rolls his eyes fondly as he pulls Sokka to his feet, his own hands lingering just a moment too long in Sokka’s.
“I would have bought you another one,” he says sincerely. Something in Sokka’s face shifts and he stops laughing, looking at Zuko with new interest.
“What?”
Sokka seems to snap out of it quickly and cocks his hip as he goes back to chewing on his kebab.
“Nothin’, thought you had some noodles on your face.” Zuko scrubs at his cheeks as Sokka laughs, and they continue down the street with no real destination, but it’s nice just to walk around the city with nobody looking over him.
Sokka is going on and on about ice dodging with Bato, Katara and Aang. Even with Sokka’s ridiculous rendition, Zuko finds himself distracted. Sokka burns so brightly, so loudly, that he finds himself often wondering what he’s doing hanging around a morally flawed and broken person like Zuko. That Sokka would ever choose him when he has the entire world at his disposal is something he hardly dares to dream about. He’s vaguely aware of Sokka standing on top of a rock, attempting to reenact Katara as she waterbent the boat away from harm, his arms flapping wildly in a way Zuko has never seen Katara do. It's ridiculously endearing.
Zuko makes quiet “mhm’s” and “oh really’s” as Sokka continues to dramatically reenact his story, and tries to hide the way his heart swells with fondness. His smile sneaks without his permission though, and although the mortification of being seen by Sokka has fear pumping through his veins, he can’t will it off of his face.
Instead he chooses to ignore the way Sokka lights a flame in his chest, ignore the way his body reacts whenever he is near, and ignore the way his own face betrays him, all in the hopes that Sokka will continue on obliviously.
But Agni was hardly ever so kind.
Zuko had spent the better part of his life finding ways to deal with the constant humiliation that came with being himself, but when Sokka looks down and falters, Zuko loses his breath if only for a moment.
It must be written all over his face. Zuko was only ever good at lying to himself.
It’s much too dark, the stars are much too bright, and the moment is charged with a certain kind of tension that has his face heating faster than his fists ever could.
Sokka stays atop the stone wall, arms outstretched and face frozen for a moment too long as the inevitable awkward silence that comes with two people acknowledging that there might be something there takes over. Zuko clears his throat as Sokka jumps down and makes his way closer.
“Zuko...”
Sokka’s movements must not be his own, because he’s reaching for Zuko with outstretched arms. He’s looking directly at Zuko’s mouth with an oxymoronic mix of determination and uncertainty.
He’s not sure why he shuts it down, why he doesn’t let himself have what he’s wanted for years, but a soft clear of his throat and a well placed point of his finger is enough of a distraction to break Sokka out of whatever trance he’s been placed into. Probably lunacy, Zuko thinks hysterically to himself.
Sokka’s face falls for just a moment, before he runs his fingers through his loose wolf tail, chuckling softly and following Zuko’s pointed finger to a plastered poster across the street.
Hastily pasted to a wall in front of them is a poster advertising the Caldera City Theater version of Love Amongst the Dragons. He’s being weird, Zuko knows he is, but Sokka has mercilessly let whatever moment that transpired between them pass, fading into nothing but a bad memory. If bad memories could give you butterflies and heart palpitations, that is.
The poster reminds him of how his mother would laugh warmly when the Dragon Emperor came to the full realization that he was in love with a mortal. A love so pure it fooled even the Dragon Emperor, she would always say. Azula would roll her eyes, but Zuko secretly thought it was romantic. He ignores the small pang of longing for different days in his chest, choosing to instead focus on the rising blush to his cheeks and the small tilt of Sokka's head as he considers Zuko a little too warmly. He clears his throat and wills his voice to come out normally.
“You like theater, don’t you?”
“Sure,” Sokka says as he aggressively rips another chunk of meat off his kebab, chewing loudly and sloppily and so endearingly that Zuko has to hide his face even deeper in his cloak so that Sokka won’t see him blush. “What’s not to love, it’s basically poetry on a stage!”
Zuko thinks that’s debatable, but says nothing, instead choosing to grab Sokka by the hand and drag him down the street to the theater, excitement bubbling in his chest. Sokka sputters and almost chokes on his meat, but allows himself to be pulled into the large domed building.
They don’t talk about it as they enter the building. They don’t talk about it when they stand in line, or talk to the ticket man, or make their way to their seats. They don’t talk about it and Zuko thinks that it’s for the best, because Zuko has always been good at lying to himself.
Inside the building, crowds of Fire Nation citizens are enjoying a nice, cooler, evening out on the town, looking at pamphlets and buying fire flakes from the concessions. Zuko drags Sokka over to the ticket booth, and quietly asks for two tickets to the next showing.
“Sorry kid,” the man behind the desk says in a bored voice without even looking up, “Shows all sold out until tomorrow evening.” Zuko feels Sokka shrug next to him and turn to leave.
“Sorry, man. Maybe we can come back tomorrow?” But they both know they can’t, they have a meeting with the other ambassadors about the colony trade issue that Zuko had been dealing with for the better part of the past three months. He sighs and sets his face, determined to get into this silly play if it’s the last thing he does. He leans over the desk and pushes back his hood.
“What about now?” he asks, not unkindly, but the man still isn’t looking at him. Zuko can feel Sokka's surprised eyes on the back of his head, and he fights the urge to smirk back at him. He doesn’t usually play the Firelord card, but if it’s for Love Amongst the Dragons…
If it's for Sokka...
The man sighs, and continues to pick at his nails. “Look kid,” he says with the same bored and exasperated tone, “I already told you. We’re all sold out, what do you want me to do? Magically produce-” But his tongue seems to get stuck in his throat when he finally looks up to meet Zuko’s eyes. The man falls out of his chair and immediately throws himself into an awkward bow. “Firelord Zuko!” he chokes out, “Your majesty, forgive me. I did not recognize you.”
Zuko rolls his eyes at Sokka’s chuckle behind him, and the man glances back up.
“That’s alright,” Zuko says, and pretends not to be upset at how the man visibly relaxes as if he had been expecting the worst. As if he had been expecting Ozai. “I wanted to show Ambassador Sokka here one of the Fire Nations most beloved plays tonight, but if you’re sure there are no seats until tomorrow…”
The man scrambles out of his chair frantically and shakes his head. “Oh, no your majesty, I can personally make sure that we have the royal box seats open and available-”
“That won’t be necessary,” Zuko interrupts as the man begins to sweat from his thick red forehead, “any seats will do just fine.” The man, Jiryu, his nametag reads, goes redder. “A-any seats? But my lord, are you sure?”
“Quite,” Zuko says happily as Sokka finally slides up to stand completely next to him, awe and amusement painted across his beautiful features.
“Of...of course, my lord. Right this way.”
Zuko throws his hood back up and motions for Sokka to follow. They share an amused look and have to resist the urge to laugh as Jiryu shows them to their seats.
"Next time I'll plan ahead," Zuko says thoughtfully, imagining how excited Sokka would get if they were seated in the royal seats, and immediately realizes the connotation of a next time.
But Sokka beams and loops his arm around Zuko's neck again, smiling widely and saying, "I'll hold you to that, your Fireyness."
Zuko punches Sokka in the side, but feels the corners of his mouth turn up in spite of himself. Sokka wants a next time...
"But seriously," Sokka continues as they reach their seats, "it's probably for the best we play it low key tonight, if Suki finds out I snuck you out of the palace..." His voice trails off and they both share a full body shudder at the idea of an enraged and armed Suki.
They were decent seats, right in the middle. Sokka throws himself into his, wasting no time in getting comfortable, but Zuko thinks he might be able to pick up on the unresolved tension from earlier. He quietly sits down next to him, his heart pounding faster than a spiderfly’s wings for reasons he isn’t quite sure of.
Liar liar.
“Do you know this story?” Zuko asks, ignoring the prodding voice inside of his head, and his jaw drops when Sokka shakes his head no. He wastes no time in leaning across the armrest and whispering in excited, hushed tones, the entire plot of the play as Sokka watches him quietly, something akin to joy written all over his face.
“-and the Dragon Emperor gets chained to a mortal form by this crazy water spirit, and as a mortal named Noren he falls in love with this mortal girl, which you know, ends up breaking his curse! So then it turns out that the mortal girl is actually the Dragon-”
“Zuko,” Sokka interrupts quietly, a small smile creeping its way across his lips, “If you tell me the entire plot, what’s the point of coming here to the play?”
Zuko blushes and realizes that in his excitement to share this story with Sokka he had all but thrown himself in his friends lap. He pulls back out of Sokka’s space, instantly missing the warmth that came along with the closeness of the other boy's skin. Sokka frowns slightly as Zuko pulls away, but Zuko is too busy hiding in his hood to notice. He stares up on the stage, watching as the crew begins to assemble the show for the evening.
“Sorry,” Zuko says apologetically, but Sokka just shakes his head.
“Eh, spoilers from anybody else and maybe I would be annoyed,” Sokka says with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, “but I don’t mind it from you.” He says it with ease, but Zuko’s head immediately snaps back to Sokka, color rushing his cheeks. Sokka isn’t paying any attention though. He has his arms crossed behind his head and his good leg resting on his lap. Zuko clears his throat to speak, but before he can the firebenders on the crew dim the flames lighting the room, and the production begins.
The production is marvelous, and Zuko finds himself petulantly thinking, how did the Ember Island Players always manage to mess this up so spectacularly? several times throughout the play. Towards the end, he finds himself sneaking a glance at Sokka, who is sitting on the edge of his seat with rapt attention as Noren and his mortal love begin an argument that Zuko has memorized.
The mortal woman thinks that if Noren acts like royalty then he could trick the spirits into changing him back into the Dragon Emperor once again. She has him dressed in fancy clothes and a silly crown as he parades around the city, pretending to be a prince from a far off nation in hopes that it would awaken something inside of him. Noren has gone along with her charade despite knowing that it would never work.
“If you think that I can be a prince for a day, then you’ll be a fool for a night.”
Somewhere back at the palace, Zuko has a tunic with that quote written on it. It’s the most famous line from the story, but when he hears it this time he feels heat rush back to his cheeks for reasons he can’t...or won’t explain. He knows what comes next. How the girl gets so fed up with him hiding his feelings that she would turn to leave him, and in a blind panic he would confess his undying love for her. How he would fight off the evil water spirit to save her, knowing that a mortal life without her was not a life he was interested in. They would kiss under the sunset and the big reveal, that she was the Dragon Empress all along, would drop amidst the applause of the audience as the curtain slowly fell to end the show. Zuko knows what would come next, but Sokka doesn’t.
He glances over at his friend again, only to see Sokka staring wide eyed and open mouthed at the stage. He is enraptured with the show, but must feel Zuko’s eyes on him. When he turns to face Zuko, the childlike awe is replaced with something soft and fond, his blue eyes warm and kind and open. He looks at Zuko as if Zuko has hand delivered him the moon.
He thinks to himself;
Fuck.
The walk back to the palace is nice and quiet. The streets are emptying fast, and Zuko is even able to pull his hood down.
When Sokka takes his hand, he doesn’t pull away.
The palace is quiet. Somehow they were able to sneak past Suki and Zuko’s other guards without notice. Drunk off of too many fireflakes and time spent with each other, Zuko finds himself giggling into Sokka’s side as they walk back to his room. He wants Sokka close to him, he always has, and yet when Sokka offered himself, Zuko pushed him away. Coward, he thinks to himself, but he doesn’t let himself linger on the thought for long.
Sokka is warm against him, and Zuko takes advantage of using his body for support as they slowly make their way through the halls. They’re arguing about the play, Sokka’s voice getting playfully heated and louder with each word.
“No, no, no, it would have been more romantic if they had stayed mortal. If he had to give up everything for her, if he was willing to that is, now that’s romance baby!”
Zuko shakes his head and fights off his own giggles, ignoring the swooping feeling in his stomach whenever Sokka says baby, but Sokka’s thoughts hit a little too close to home and he finds himself wanting to defend the emperor.
“But he’s the emperor, Sokka. That’s who he is he can’t just...not be.”
Sokka turns to face him with an odd expression. “I don’t think she was asking him to stop being the emperor,” he says quietly, and suddenly Zuko knows they’re not just talking about the play anymore. He looks away, too afraid of what he’ll see in Sokka’s eyes. “Just to take a break and breathe. Just to...I don’t know, experience humanity for a moment before he continues on saving the world.”
“Sokka,” he says, and his own voice is urgent with everything he’s left unspoken between them. Sokka stills as Zuko raises a trembling hand towards his face, trying and failing to get anything out, but Sokka continues on.
“I mean I know he’s the emperor and he’s so...big and important but he’s also just a person and he deserves love and time to be loved-”
“Sokka.”
Sokka reaches up, his hand lightly tracing the outline of Zuko’s scar, his breath gliding across the taut scar tissue. They’re close, closer than they have ever been, so close that Zuko can’t tell where his breath ends and Sokka’s begins. Sokka’s eyes flutter shut and he presses their foreheads together, and it's nothing like the moment from earlier that night. Zuko doesn’t think there is anything that can compare to Sokka’s embrace.
“Zuko,” he says, steady as the sea wild as fire, “I’m in love with you.”
He smells sweet, like cinnamon fireflakes. He doesn’t wait for Zuko to respond.
“Zuko,” Sokka starts again, pulling him back to reality, and Zuko can hear the heartache in his voice. The longing to bridge this gap between them, not nearly as vast as either of them might think. Sokka’s voice is full of emotion, overwhelming and deep to match his own.
“If you’re a prince,” he says in a breath, “does that make me the fool?”
Sokka noses at Zuko’s cheek, his question bouncing in the air around them waiting for an answer. It’s meant to be a light hearted joke, but Zuko hears what he’s really asking; is this a good idea? Is this okay with you?
Zuko huffs a little, and the smoke that follows heats up Sokka’s cheeks, but he doesn’t pull away.
“Technically,” Zuko whispers back, finally finding his words, “I’m not a prince anymore. I’m the Firelord.”
“That still leaves me as the fool,” Sokka whispers back, and with one sentence all of his uncertainties are laid out before them. Zuko finally cracks. He doesn’t want Sokka to ever doubt again. Zuko wants to close the distance between them. He wants to drop the pretense and do this right. He wants to feel Sokka’s soft lips on his own, hear whatever sweet noises he might make into his mouth, feel how his tongue might glide over his own. He wants to love him properly, the way he deserves; wholly and unapologetically.
“I think,” he whispers “I think that I’ve been the fool.” And he knows that Sokka hears what he’s really saying, but he says it aloud anyway, the truth he had buried deep in his heart finally finding its way out into the world, under the soft light of Yue which danced happily through the windows. “I love you, Sokka.”
Zuko wants to close the distance between them, so he does.