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Western Air Temple
It starts out, as all obsessions do, in the most innocent and offhand of ways. Really, even with Sokka’s penchant for schedules and planning ahead, he could never have seen this one coming. He’s just a guy who, as the only non-bender in the group, has a healthy interest in learning as much as he possibly can about firebending. You know, for academic and defence purposes.
“What’s good, jerkbenders?” Sokka says, dropping down onto the rock Aang’s perched on, Momo draped across his shoulders. “How’s practice?”
Twenty feet away, Zuko pauses in the middle of the form he’s demonstrating, hands still outstretched as he snaps, “Better without any interruptions, thank you.”
“Oookay.” Sokka leans back, settling himself more comfortably. Momo takes this as an invitation to uncurl his tail from around Aang, depositing himself bodily onto Sokka’s head. “Ouch, gimme some space, Momo, sheesh.”
He grapples with Momo until the lemur’s nestled against his chest instead.
Now lemur-free, Aang leans in, eyes wide as he stage-whispers, “Sifu Hotman’s annoyed because his bending’s having some – uh, performance issues.”
“This – is – not – an – issue!” Zuko shouts across the courtyard, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hands as he goes through his routine. Each time, he produces a small lick of flame that flickers and sputters out.
Sokka snorts, unable to contain himself. “That all you got, Your Majesty? What, is your firebending constipated or something?”
Zuko stiffens, straightening as he turns and stalks towards them, all the while levelling a glare at Sokka that’s so clearly incandescent with rage he can’t help wondering whether Zuko’s picked up a thing or two from Combustion Man. He almost glances down to check whether his clothes are singeing.
He hears twin whooshes of air and turns to find both Avatar and lemur gone, having abandoned him to the cruel clutches of Fate. Cowards.
Sokka gulps and steels himself to face the ire of one very pissed off ex-crown prince of the Fire Nation.
“Look, this isn’t just my problem, okay?” Zuko snarls, stepping into Sokka’s personal space and poking him in the chest. “The Avatar needs a teacher, and if I can’t teach him, you’ll have to find someone else.”
Sokka opens his mouth, one million things racing through his head, but what comes out instead is an emphatic, “Ow.”
He and Zuko both glance down at the same time. There’s a hole singed into his tunic where Zuko poked him and Sokka watches, wide-eyed, as Zuko removes the offending digit. The tip of his finger is still smoking.
“I –” Zuko swallows, something wild behind his eyes as he almost trips over himself backing away, “I’m so sor–”
Zuko cuts himself off with a strangled sound, apology forgotten, because Sokka’s chosen precisely that moment to yank his tunic up over his head and off so he can inspect the damage.
Coughing, Zuko tries again. “I’m really sorry–”
“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Sokka says airily. He gestures to his own chest, where there’s a small circle of slightly red skin. (He doesn’t notice the way Zuko’s eyes track over the mark, and down, before finally settling on his face.) “See? No biggie. I think Mr. Tunic got the worst of it.”
Zuko holds out a hand. “Here, let me. I have a sewing kit. It’s the least I can do.”
Sokka gapes even as he hands the tunic over. “You know how to sew?”
Zuko smiles, just a tight quirk of the lips that’s there and gone in a flash, and Sokka finds himself wishing the prince would smile more. (He wishes he could make the prince smile more.) “I picked up a few things travelling through the Earth Kingdom.”
That night, Sokka sleeps better than he’s ever done since the day of the eclipse. And when he wakes up the next morning, it’s to find his tunic, patched up and freshly washed, folded over the end of his sleeping bag.
Something small and warm blooms in his chest, and well, if that warmth is reminiscent of how Sokka felt about Yue, about Suki, then Sokka chooses not to dwell on it.
-
It doesn’t help that Zuko and Aang return from their field trip apparently laden with all the secrets of firebending at their fingertips.
He sits around the campfire with the rest, his dinner lying forgotten in his lap, as Zuko and Aang show them the Dancing Dragon form.
Don’t get him wrong, he’s grateful Aang’s overcome his firebending block and now has a teacher again, but man, does he wish it doesn’t have to come with all these complicated somethings pooling, liquid hot, in his stomach whenever Zuko bends.
He watches, now, as the former prince shifts from one form to the next, his movements fluid and graceful, no longer spurred by anger, but driven by passion. There’s something to be said, too, about the new light that shines in his eyes as he moves through the routine, a new confidence to the way he holds himself.
Sokka shakes himself out of his reverie and claps along with the rest when the demonstration’s over. He catches Zuko’s eye as the other straightens and grins broadly, giving him a thumbs-up, and his heart soars when the prince returns the smile.
-
Forest, Western Air Temple outskirts
It only gets worse from there. Well, worse for Sokka’s unhealthy little obsession with a certain firebender. Objectively, everything else goes swimmingly.
Because he is apparently a glutton for punishment, when Katara suggested not-so-subtly that someone oversee Aang’s firebending lessons (presumably in case Zuko Avatar-naps him), Sokka volunteers his services.
And really, it’s not as if he has anything else to do. At least this way, Katara’s less naggy and Sokka gets a front row seat to Zuko’s new passion-fuelled firebending. And if supervising said firebending means he finds himself confronted with a shirtless Zuko at least twice daily, well, Sokka thinks he can suffer through the ordeal for the sake of Katara’s peace of mind.
Currently, Sokka’s lounging in the shade of a tree, idly polishing his sword, whilst in the middle of the clearing, Zuko’s attempting to teach Aang a new firebending form.
“Uncle always told me to think of bending, all kinds of bending, as an art, and not just as a form of combat. The first thing you need to remember when facing your opponent is – Aang, are you even listening to me?” Zuko says, stopping mid-lecture and whirling around to face his pupil.
Aang blinks, and guiltily shuffles his feet to hide the doodle of Appa he’s earthbended into the soil. “Sorry, Sifu Hotman.”
“Ugh.” Zuko slaps a hand over his face, which appears to be getting redder by the second, and Sokka fancies he can almost see the steam whistling out of Zuko’s ears, like a merrily boiling kettle.
He stuffs a fist in his mouth to stifle the impending laugh. No, it would not do to piss off Mr. Fireypants even more.
A shadow falls over him, and Sokka glances up to find an unimpressed Zuko glaring down at him. He wonders whether Zuko’s telepathic as well, in addition to being criminally quiet on his feet.
“What’s up?” he says, sitting up and craning to look around the prince. “And where’s Aang?”
For a heart-stopping moment he thinks Katara’s worst fears have been realised, and that Zuko has just been earning their trust and luring them all into a false sense of security before kidnapping Aang, but then he spots the kid on the other side of the clearing, doing fire squats with an extremely put-out expression on his face.
“Firebending is as much about discipline of the mind as of the body. So I gave him ten reps,” Zuko says by way of explanation, shrugging one shoulder carelessly. “Do you want to spar?”
“Wha – with you?”
Zuko arches his good eyebrow and says, stony-faced, “No, with the angry komodo rhino that’s trampled all over your brain cells.”
Sokka’s jaw drops. He points an accusing finger at Zuko. “You – did you just crack a joke?” Because how is this possible. Zuko, who barely smiles at any of Sokka’s (decidedly, by popular opinion) funny jokes. Who treats every task with a determination as grim and pronounced as his old mission to capture the Avatar. Has a funny bone in his body. Huh. Who would’ve thought.
Zuko’s frown, if anything, grows more pronounced. “I guess. It’s been known to happen.” He reaches over to where he’s left his swords on a nearby rock and unsheathes them. “So?”
“Coming!” Sokka gets to his feet, grabbing his sword and following as Zuko turns and heads back out to the clearing. “But no cheating with bending.”
They bow to each other, and Zuko smirks. “I’ll try.”
Zuko, as it turns out, does not try very hard. By the time Aang’s done with his punishment squats, Sokka’s sore all over from deflecting or dodging ball after ball of flame. With every other swing of his dual dao swords that Sokka had blocked or swerved away from, Zuko had decided to bring his leg around in sweeping kicks that sent flames licking their way across the grass towards him. (And at absolutely no point in the course of their sparring did Sokka think about the lithe grace with which Zuko balanced both the swords and his bending, the blades and flames moving, as one, with his body.)
“Okay, what in the name of Tui and La was that?” Sokka says, out of breath and furious. “You could’ve killed me!”
“I wasn’t trying to,” Zuko says, and at least has the good grace to look chagrined. “I just thought it would be good practice. You know, I’m assuming you don’t often practice sparring with firebenders.”
Sokka pinches the bridge of his nose and reminds himself to breathe because dammit, but he knows the other boy has a point. “Okay, just. Next time give a guy some warning. That’s all I’m asking.”
Zuko plows on, unperturbed. “What’s the point in that? No Fire Nation soldier worth their salt would give you any warning before attacking.”
Sokka can feel a vein on the side of his head throbbing.
Aang flies over just then on a ball of air, Momo by his side. Sokka grabs Momo by the tail and screams into the lemur’s side.
When he looks up, it’s to find Zuko turning away to guide Aang through the new form, but not before he sees the wide grin on Zuko’s face.
-
War balloon, en route to Boiling Rock
“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Sokka turns away from where he’s been watching the sun set over the horizon to look at his companion.
Zuko barely glances up from where he’s bending fire to fuel the balloon. “Yep.” As if I have a choice, he doesn’t say. It’s not as if he was about to let Sokka run off and get killed by himself.
Sokka’s mouth hangs open. “You think I’m gonna get myself killed?!”
Uh-oh. Apparently Zuko said what he was thinking out loud. He winces, holding a hand up in what he hopes is a placatory gesture. “Um, no?”
Sokka opens his mouth, looking like he’s about to argue, but abruptly deflates. Shoulders slumped, he leans against the side of the balloon’s basket and says to Zuko’s feet, “I’m sorry I brought you along. I shouldn’t have. I knew it might be a one-way trip and I still let you come with.”
Zuko’s left feeling incredibly wrong-footed. He’s never, in all the time since arriving at the Western Air Temple, seen Sokka this miserable. He’s always the one lifting the others’ spirits when their food supplies run low, always the one who’s quick to think on his feet and come up with solutions. He decides then and there that this new, dejected version of Sokka has no business being here, not if Zuko has anything to say about it. All he has to do is comfort the other boy, remind him that not all hope is lost and tell him –
“You’re glue,” is what tumbles out of Zuko’s mouth, and he wants to smack himself.
“I’m – I’m what?”
“Um.” Agni, but Zuko thinks he might actually die from embarrassment. He is, however, nothing if not the (disgraced/ex) crown prince of the Fire Nation, and having spent almost a quarter of his life single-mindedly chasing and tracking down the Avatar, he is nothing if not determined.
So he keeps going. “You know, glue. Like, you keep everyone else in the group going. You make us … stick together.”
Sokka’s still looking at Zuko as if he’s gone insane, but at least his shoulders are no longer slumped. That’s an improvement, right? In fact, his shoulders are shaking with what Zuko realises a second later is laughter. Sokka’s laughing at him.
Zuko huffs, crosses his arms over chest, and glares out at nothing in particular. “I just meant – that because you do so much for everyone else, and I know this is really important to you, just let me do this one thing for you, okay?”
“Thank you.”
And Sokka glances over at him, dark hair gleaming auburn by the light of Agni’s fading rays, his profile all hard lines tempered by sunlight into a soft halo, and Zuko’s breath catches.
Unbidden, his palm shoots far too much fire into the fuel tank, and their balloon shoots upwards at an alarming speed. Completely preoccupied with reining his fire back in, Zuko misses the almost hungry way Sokka’s watching him.
-
Boiling Rock
Leaning against the rails on the prison’s outpost, Sokka takes a deep, fortifying breath as he looks out over the steam rising from the lake’s shimmering surface.
He surreptitiously adjusts the helmet that’s slightly too big for him, and grimaces at the trickle of sweat making its way down the side of his face. He has no idea how the other guards aren’t melting into a puddle of sweat underneath their armour. The inside of his mouth feels sandpaper dry, and the last time he’s been this uncomfortably hot was when he was dehydrated and hallucinating off cactus juice in the middle of the desert.
If he’s being completely honest with himself, he’d rather have another go at the desert than attempt another prison break, especially with the warden on high alert after Chit Sang’s failed escape.
It doesn’t help that so much is riding on this – so many people, all counting on him. His dad, Suki, Zuko.
Zuko, who knew before they even left that chances of making it back out are slim. Zuko, who came along anyway. Who blew his cover trying to protect Sokka. Who’s now been locked in the fucking freezer (again) by Mai’s vindictive uncle.
Zuko, who rarely smiles but when he does, it lights up his face and Sokka’s world and he can’t just leave him in the freezer to become a firebender popsicle.
Sokka lets out the breath he’s been holding and pushes off from the railing, setting off back into the complex with a renewed purpose. A riot, all you need to do is start a riot, he repeats firmly in his head like a mantra.
In the end, starting a riot proves surprisingly easy, all things considered. All it takes is one guard’s fear of the warden and Chit Sang riling up the prisoners in the yard, and all hell breaks loose.
In the fray, Sokka slips through the battling crowd to his father’s side, shouting to make himself heard over the din. “Dad, just get to the gondola once the warden’s taken care of – I’ll meet you there.”
Hakoda frowns at him, squinting up at the warden’s tower. “But who’s handling the warden?”
Sokka almost laughs. He would have if he weren’t so sick with panic and worry, if his heart wasn’t lodged somewhere in the back of his throat.
He clears his throat and points. Sokka can see the moment his father’s jaw drops as they watch Suki tear across the yard, flipping over the heads of rioting prisoners before starting to scale the wall.
“I – I gotta go get Zuko,” Sokka says, and he’s fairly sure his voice cracks a bit on the last word, hitting an octave he hasn’t heard since before his voice started changing. “I’ll meet you guys at the gondola!”
He turns and tears through the mob, dodging swinging fists and the occasional burst of flame. He doesn’t stop when a higher ranking guard shouts at him that he can’t abandon his post, ducking under his arm and swiping the set of keys hooked onto his belt.
He sprints into the complex and down a corridor that’s never felt quite this long, until finally, finally, he’s standing in front of the freezer and unlocking it with shaking hands.
A gust of icy air hits him and Sokka shivers in spite of himself. “Zuko?”
The firebender raises his head from where he’s curled on the floor, arms hugging his knees to chest.
“Hey, buddy,” Zuko says, giving him a small, tired smile, and Sokka watches, mesmerized, at the smoke and flames gently curling out of his mouth on the exhale.
“You’re, uh,” Sokka says inelegantly, still staring as Zuko gets to his feet and slowly makes his way out of the freezer. In the end, he decides to point out the obvious. “You’re smoking. Like, smoke’s coming out of you.”
Zuko frowns, stumbling slightly on his feet, and allows Sokka to sling an arm around his waist to steady him. “I was meditating.”
Dude can breathe fire out of his mouth? Damn, but if that isn’t hot. Figuratively and literally. Sokka bites his lip, trying very hard not to think about how warm Zuko’s lips must feel, and forces his thoughts back to the present, where he’s got an armful of firebender leaning against him for support.
“Thank you for coming back for me,” Zuko says, glancing over at Sokka from underneath his fringe. Sokka absolutely refuses to dwell on why he finds that adorable.
“Of course, I’d never leave you behind,” Sokka says as they start making their way out of the complex.
And maybe it’s Sokka’s imagination, but he thinks the arm Zuko’s flung across his shoulders for balance gets warmer.
+1
Fire Nation Royal Palace
In celebration of the one-year anniversary of the war’s end and Fire Lord Zuko’s coronation, the palace is holding a gala, with representatives and councilmen from the four nations all present and accounted for. It’s supposed to be a night of fun and letting your hair down for a bit, at least in Sokka’s book, but one glance across the banquet hall at where Zuko’s sitting, back ramrod straight and expression stern as he listens to whatever his Minister of Finance is saying, and Sokka knows his friend hasn’t even managed to come close to relaxing this evening.
Sokka decides to make it his personal mission to get Zuko to loosen up a little. And well, if there’s another agenda on his mind tonight, that can’t be helped. So sue him, he’s a guy who likes to plan ahead for all eventualities. This just so happens to be one of them. Phase One of his master plan involves alcohol. He enlists Suki and Toph’s help (he has no idea where Aang and his sister have gone, although the knowing grin that graces Toph’s face when he asks means yuck, definitely not something he wants to know), and within five minutes he’s the proud new owner of no less than five bottles of wine.
Arms full, he looks at his friends over the tops of the bottles, amused. “Don’t you think this is a bit much?”
Suki shrugs, “Better safe than sorry,” just as Toph leans in, punches Sokka on the arm hard enough to bruise, and says, “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
Not willing to stick around for long enough to find out if Toph has another of her punches locked and loaded, Sokka escapes, depositing the bottles in a gazebo overlooking the palace grounds before moving on to Phase Two: Acquire Fire Lord. This next part of his plan (and Phase Three) is where it might get a little tricky.
He sidles over to the head of the banquet table, where Zuko’s picking morosely at his food, now deep in conversation with the Earth Kingdom representative, a portly middle-aged man who, as it appears, has developed a keen interest in the Fire Nation’s agricultural affairs.
“Excuse me,” Sokka cuts in as politely as he knows how. He flashes the representative a winsome smile, and bodily blocks Zuko from his view. “Do you mind if I borrow His Majesty? There’s an urgent matter that requires his attention.”
“Take a walk with me?” he says in an undertone to Zuko, who nods and follows him from the hall.
“Spirits, Sokka, thank you,” Zuko whispers, as the two of them make their way through the palace and into the gardens outside.
“Not a problem.” And Sokka means it, because by the light of the moon he can see just how tired Zuko is, the dark circles under his eyes bruising his pale skin, and Sokka really hates how Zuko’s advisors are letting him work himself to the bone, because they know full well Zuko doesn’t know when to take a break.
“Sokka,” Zuko says abruptly when they reach the gazebo, frowning at the bottles sitting in an innocuous row on the stone floor. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
Sokka grins. “That depends. Are you a lightweight?”
In the end, they hardly touch the bottles. Zuko makes a face after the first sip and Sokka gamely pretends he also hates the taste. He doesn’t think he needs the alcohol anyway; he drinks in the sight of Zuko, sitting across him with his back to a column, looking out over the palace gardens. He looks more at peace than Sokka’s seen him all night, his ceremonial robes pooling around him, his crown sitting slightly crooked in the top-knot that’s coming undone. (Sokka’s struck with a sudden urge to run his hands through Zuko’s hair. He wonders whether Zuko might let him braid it, one day.) They sit in companionable silence for a while, outstretched legs resting alongside each other’s, listening to the distant splish-splash coming from the direction of the turtleduck pond.
Zuko’s the one who breaks it first. “Why did you come back for me? At the Boiling Rock?”
Sokka turns to look at him so fast he thinks he might’ve gotten whiplash. “You’re kidding right?”
Zuko shrugs, staring down at his hands. “We weren’t as close then. Your father and Suki were out. You could’ve gone too.”
Sokka gapes in disbelief. He’s reminded of the sparring incident, over a year ago now. He’d wanted to throttle the firebender then, too, although for entirely different reasons. “Are you – you’re serious,” he finally says, faintly.
Zuko stays silent, although he does hunch in, almost imperceptibly, on himself. Sokka suspects if it weren’t for his past year as Fire Lord, with all the courtly decorum that came with his position so deeply ingrained, Zuko would have his arms folded tight across his chest right now. The thought is a strangely endearing one.
“Look, Zuko,” Sokka says, shifting closer until their knees bump. He clears his throat, because man, this is so not what he planned. “You’re my best friend and one of the bravest people I know. I might not have trusted you at the start, but you’ve done more than enough to earn it since. Dude, you literally followed me on a suicide mission to make sure I didn’t die. I mean, what more could a guy ask for?”
“Sokka, I –” Zuko starts, cuts himself off. He sounds stricken. His eyes, when he looks up from his hands to meet Sokka’s, are burning a molten gold, and Sokka almost forgets to breathe. His voice, when he speaks, is steady. “You’re my best friend, too. But I want –”
Exactly what Zuko wants, Sokka never gets a chance to find out. Because at that moment, fireworks erupt overhead, a glittering display of multi-colour brilliance splashed across the Caldera City skyline. Sokka watches as an Avatar-shaped silhouette swoops overhead on his glider, doing several loop-de-loops and trailing more firecrackers. Ah. Sokka’s ingenious Phase Three, which he’s forgotten was already set in motion. He inwardly groans, because the timing for this is just perfect.
“Did you do this?” Zuko turns to him, lips quirked in amusement, as above their heads, Aang painstakingly bends the fireworks into first a glittering flame reminiscent of the one nestled in Zuko’s top-knot, and then into a heart.
“Uh – maybe,” Sokka says, flailing. His mind is unhelpfully blank but his mouth keeps moving, words tumbling from his lips in no particular order. “I just thought, you know. You looked like you could really use a break. From all your Fire Lordly duties and all. Then I thought hey, wouldn’t it be a good idea if I could also tell you how I feel about y–”
“Sokka?”
Sokka blinks. Zuko’s suddenly sitting a lot closer. “Y-yes?”
“Shut up,” Zuko says, and there’s no bite behind his words because he’s laughing, hands coming up to frame Sokka’s face as they both lean forwards, their noses bump and they meet in the middle, and Sokka feels the warmth from Zuko’s lips seeping all through his body, enveloping him and – whoa.
Sokka reluctantly tears his lips from Zuko’s and stares. The heat isn’t imaginary; they’re encircled by a wall of gently flickering flame, dancing just out of reach and surrounding the two of them in an almost protective way, and when Zuko opens his eyes he can see the fire reflected back at him.
“Wow,” Sokka says.
“Sorry.” Zuko ducks his head, face flushing the colour of his scar. He flicks his wrists and the flames go out, leaving embers scattered on the ground around them.
That is, of course, the very moment Toph surfs in on a gliding rock. “Took you dummies long enough.”
Overhead, Aang swoops down low and shouts something Zuko knows will become blackmail material for years to come: “Sifu, hot damn!”
Nonetheless, when Sokka reaches over and laces their fingers together, he finds it very hard to bring himself to care.