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‘When are you going to do something about that?’
It takes a moment for Sokka to pull his gaze away from the door Zuko just walked through, but when he manages, Katara is looking at him with one eyebrow arched and her mouth twisted into a smirk.
‘About what?’ he asks in return, eyes narrowing to focus properly on his sister even if half his mind followed Zuko through the door into the kitchen where he’s getting more snacks.
Katara rolls her eyes and manages to make it look like a dare. ‘You think you’re so slick, huh?’
‘Piss off,’ Sokka mumbles, pointedly ignoring the heat he feels slowly flood his cheeks. He just hopes the room is dim enough for Katara not to notice, but it’s not likely.
It’s sleepover night, an ancient tradition you could argue they’ve all gradually got too old for, but why quit something wonderful and sacred? Aang and Toph are currently engaged in some intense arm wrestling, which Sokka notices when he’s looking away from his nosy, prying sister.
Toph’s won every round, which should come as a surprise to nobody.
‘You know—’ Katara’s voice pulls Sokka back to her, ‘you could just ask him out.’
Sokka feels his eyes widen into saucers, feels his mouth drop open. He shakes his head. Then he shakes it more intensely. ‘What,’ he croaks, ‘are you implying?’
She laughs at him.
The flush in Sokka’s cheeks only turns a deeper red.
‘I’m not implying anything.’ She picks up her glass again and slurps up orange soda through her straw. ‘I’m just saying.’
Sokka wants to say something snappy back, like ‘oh, why don’t you ask Aang out then?’ but it’s a lame comeback since their two-year anniversary is coming up fast. No other ideas come to mind, so he just sits there, tongue-tied and feeling quite stupid. At least Katara’s not talking loudly enough for Aang and Toph to really hear.
‘I thought your middle name was Fearless?’ Katara arches her brow again. ‘Whatever happened to the brave warrior I used to know, Sokka the Audacious Wolf?’
He was five when he made up that stupid name and refused to answer to anything else. He lurches forward to play wrestle Katara and tells her to, ‘shut up.’
Her laugh is loud and vibrant and infectious enough for Sokka to start chuckling too.
‘What’d I miss?’ Zuko asks from the doorway, refilled bowl of popcorn in his hands. Poking out of the pocket of his sweatpants is a package with those salami sticks Sokka loves, even if nobody else here appreciates them as the superior snack which they obviously are.
‘Oh, you know,’ Katara says, and Sokka tightens his grip on her because don’t you fucking dare— ‘Sokka being a fool,’ she finishes, which, fair. So maybe Sokka’s a fool in love, but we can’t all be so bloody lucky that our best friend since middle school actually likes us back, Katara. Okay?
Sokka’s just happy to get a close friendship. Yes, if it meant that friendship would morph into something romantic, and, y’know, sexual, he would become a vegetarian and give away his Xbox. He doesn’t make promises like that lightly. But the chances are about nil so Sokka’s set to wolf down those salami sticks soon.
‘Here,’ Zuko says, throwing the salami sticks at Sokka, ‘for you.’
And Sokka’s struck again by how completely fucking unfair everything is.
The story goes like this: at age 14 they were paired up for a stupid school project which Sokka was deeply unexcited to do, but which proved to be lifechanging. Because lo and behold, they’ve been pretty much inseparable ever since, and Sokka’s suffering increased exponentially as Zuko went from gangly, awkward teenager to intensely hot, but still pretty awkward, man.
That’s the speedrun anyway.
(Let’s gloss over the long-lasting effects of child abuse, Zuko’s shouty pre-therapy phase, all the panic attacks, Sokka’s own bisexual awakening which funnily enough coincided with Zuko’s aforementioned transformation from gangly weirdo into what he looks like now. Which is mainly unfairly handsome. When he lost the shitty haircut, Sokka lost his shit completely.)
Sokka’s so fucking stupid for him.
Sokka’s smart about some things and he’s really stupid about others, and Zuko lands squarely in the second category. But he’s smart enough to not screw anything up, not rock the boat, so to say, because he doesn’t want to lose his best friend.
(Even if it means occasionally having to cry a little late at night. What of it. He’s a grown man and secure enough in his masculinity to let himself feel what he needs to feel. Piss off anyway. It’s nobody’s business. Yes, Katara, you heard that right. Nobody’s business.)
‘You brought meat for me?’ is what he finally says, which obviously makes Katara cackle loudly.
‘Sokka,’ Toph’s voice cuts through the room, ‘when you’re done drooling over Zuko’s meat, come get your ass kicked by me at arm wrestling.’
Sokka really, really, really wishes the earth would open below him. Swallow me, he thinks, but thankfully doesn’t say, because Katara would have a field day with that.
He pointedly doesn’t look at Zuko as he huffs and scuttles off the couch to where Toph’s sitting. Aang gives his shoulder a squeeze as they pass each other—he flops down next to Katara and puts his head in her lap. She pets his bald head—and really, who can make a bald head look even remotely good? Zuko certainly couldn’t. He looked godawful with the bald-head-and-ponytail combo. Actually, there’s an idea. Maybe Sokka should suggest he cuts his hair like that again. Clearly, it’d force Sokka to get over his shit, right? Nobody could stay in love with a man with hair like that.
‘Heyo,’ Toph calls and snaps her fingers. ‘Earth to Sokka. I told you to stop drooling.’
‘I’m not drooling,’ Sokka says, and immediately realises it’s the wrong thing to say. Toph is blind anyway, so how would she know if he’s drooling or not. And he’s not, for the record. ‘I mean, shut up.’ He tears open the plastic package and takes a bite of the first salami stick.
The point is, Katara and Aang make it look so easy. But that’s probably just the difference between requited love and braindead, foolish pining.
Deep sigh.
‘All right,’ Sokka says, focusing all his energy on Toph. ‘I’m not the one who’ll be drooling when we’re done here. I am going to wipe the floor with you, Toph Beifong.’
She cocks an eyebrow. ‘Oh, you are on.’ She cracks her knuckles. ‘Brave Sokka the Audacious Wolf.’
‘I wish everyone would forget about that,’ he mutters as he presses his palm to Toph’s, curls his fingers. Elbow steady on the table, eyes locked on Toph’s face.
‘Nervous?’ she taunts, and then without warning puts all her weight into it.
Sokka’s caught off-guard, so she manages to press his arm all the way down after a few seconds.
‘You cheated!’ he calls. ‘We’re supposed to count down!’
‘What you call cheating, I call being the best.’ Toph rolls her shoulders. ‘But let’s go again. I love to win.’
Sokka rolls her eyes. ‘Just so you know, I’m rolling my eyes right now.’
‘Got it,’ Toph says with a grin. ‘Now give me your hand and let me beat you again.’
Sokka steals a glance over his shoulder and sees that Zuko’s watching them. He looks away quickly, like caught doing something bad, so Sokka looks back at Toph again. Sometimes it’s like that, and Sokka feels a shimmery thing coil in his stomach, a phantom of what it might feel like if Zuko looked at Sokka the same way.
But then reality smacks him down.
He cracks his knuckles. ‘Bring it on, Beifong.’
‘You bet.’
***
They’re going to IKEA. Zuko asked, and Zuko usually never asks for anything. Like, ever. Sokka asks for stupid shit all the time.
Zuko asked, so obviously Sokka said yes. Duh.
It’s not exactly prime romantic outing material, but Sokka spends fifteen minutes in front of his wardrobe anyway, then ten minutes doing his hair. Yes, yes, being stupid for Zuko, case in point number 3764837. Old story. Mind your own.
Zuko needs a new bookcase and he doesn’t have a car, so he asked Sokka. Zuko doesn’t have a car because he’s a fucking asshole and has a motorcycle instead.
It’s like he’s making Sokka’s life hard on purpose.
Not the only thing about Sokka he makes hard, ha-ha, obligatory dick joke, not funny. Let’s move on.
After spending that embarrassing amount of time getting ready, he grabs his keys and wallet and drives to pick up Zuko. He’s standing on the kerb when Sokka rolls up in his trusty Kia. It’s his baby, actually. Her name is Shiny Susan.
‘Hey,’ Zuko says when he’s settled in the passenger seat. ‘Thanks again for doing this.’
‘Anytime bro,’ Sokka says. Idiot. That’s what they are, though. Bros. Good friends. Two guys going to IKEA because one of them can’t stop buying books and is now fast running out of shelving space. Zuko once lent Sokka his copy of Persuasion with a sticky note bookmarking Captain Wentworth’s love letter to Anne Elliot.
So Zuko’s a closet romantic. No bloody surprises there.
(And maybe it made Sokka cry, just a little bit, to read that part. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. I have loved none but you. Okay, so maybe he wailed like a baby. Zuko must have too, or he wouldn’t have bookmarked it, would he? So maybe Sokka’s a closet romantic as well. Revelations all around.)
Back to the point. They’re going to IKEA because Zuko needs a bookcase. Sokka’s just along for the ride. Actually, Sokka is the ride. Damn, he’s really on a roll today.
He grins to himself. Well, he wishes he was the ride.
‘What’s so funny?’ Zuko asks, looking curious. It’s bloody annoying how cute he looks sometimes. It makes Sokka’s heart do this thing, like it’s being squeezed by giant hands. He almost misses his next turn because it’s hard to tear his eyes away from Zuko’s pretty, golden eyes.
‘Just thinking about a bad joke,’ he says. ‘How’s your uncle doing?’
‘He’s well,’ Zuko says with this fond smile that always plays at his lips when he talks about his uncle. ‘Shop’s busy. He made this special tea blend with rose flower and lavender and some other stuff. He calls it, uh, The Power of Love. I know—’ his cheeks are suddenly flushed a sweet pink and he fidgets with his hair, ‘it sounds kind of—well, anyway. It’s because it’s, uh, Valentine’s Day soon, so it’s for that. I’m rambling.’
‘You are,’ Sokka agrees with a smile. He switches on the blinkers to turn right. ‘Keep going. I love your voice.’
YIKES! Didn’t mean to say that last part.
The sound Zuko makes sounds startled and half-choked. ‘Do you have plans?’ he asks. ‘You know, for, uh—’
And there he is. Pinnacle of eloquence, the man of Sokka’s dreams.
Not that Sokka’s faring any better. ‘You mean for, uh, Valentine’s Day?’
‘Yeah,’ Zuko says. When Sokka chances a glance at him, he’s looking out the window.
‘When is it again?’ Time to play it cool and pretend he isn’t painfully aware that it’s next Friday. He could pretend he only knows because Aang has asked for his advice about what to do for Katara, but he wouldn’t pass a Polygraph. Closet romantic and all that. Obviously, he’s mentally planned the Perfect Date in the ongoing daydream where he gets to hold Zuko’s hand and kiss him stupid and suck his dick whenever he wants to.
So yes. He knows it’s next Friday, but Zuko doesn’t need to know that.
‘Next Friday,’ Zuko says. His voice cracks a little. Sokka’s mind is in the gutter because he was just thinking about blowjobs and now he’s thinking about blowjobs and making Zuko’s voice croaky like that.
He grips the steering wheel tighter.
Anyways.
‘Right,’ he says. ‘No. No plans. I’m not exactly in high demand. You?’ he asks with his heart in his throat, not breathing at all. What if Zuko does have plans? With some other guy who isn’t Sokka?
Well, obviously Sokka would behave like a grown-up and not be weird about it. He wants Zuko to be happy. That means he wants Zuko to be loved in all possible ways, even if by someone that isn’t Sokka.
But he would absolutely also cry for hours.
‘No,’ Zuko says, and Sokka immediately thanks every deity imaginable. ‘Not exactly in high demand either.’
If only he knew…
This would be hysterical if it were happening to someone else.
But alas, it is happening to Sokka.
‘Got your eyes on anyone?’ Sokka asks, because why not torture himself some more. Self-inflicted agony is, after all, his speciality.
Zuko looks at him. His eyebrows are furrowed just slightly and there’s a set to his jaw. He looks kind of sad, kind of—Sokka’s not sure what to call that. Hopeless, almost.
He manages to look away long enough to park the car without causing an accident.
‘Yeah,’ Zuko breathes into the silence of the parked car. He closes his eyes. ‘But, uh, it’s not going to happen.’
‘Sorry, man,’ Sokka says. He puts his hand on Zuko’s bicep and gives it a squeeze. It’s electrifying to touch him, so he quickly lets go again, scared Zuko will realise what’s going on in Sokka’s head. ‘I know the feeling. It’s shit.’
‘Yeah,’ Zuko says. ‘Are you still into Suki?’
This startles a small laugh out of Sokka.
Oh, Suki. What a woman. There’s a whole story there, but to summarise: they dated for a while in their late teens, back when Sokka was already falling for Zuko but knew nothing would come from it, so he thought he may as well date other people.
And his time with Suki was great even if it was never destined to last.
Suki broke it off eventually. Sokka still remembers her words—‘You know I love you, and I know you love me, but we also both know that I’m not the right person for you.’ She was kind enough to not outright say who would be the right person, even though that was something they also both knew.
But they’re still great friends, because Suki is great! And she has a girlfriend now anyway. No hard feelings! Love all around!
Sokka is absolutely not hung up on Suki.
He wonders who Zuko’s into.
He can’t think of anyone, so it’s probably someone he doesn’t know. A dude from one of his classes? Probably someone who’d read Persuasion without Zuko having to force the book into his hands and tell him to read it.
God, now he’s going to obsess about this all day.
Maybe he could ask Iroh. Would that be unethical? Hey, my beloved brother in comedy, your nephew let it slip that he has a crush on someone, so would you do me the favour of telling me on whom?
‘Let’s go get you a new bookcase, buddy,’ Sokka says. ‘And the meatballs. Can’t believe I almost forgot about the meatballs! I’m so excited about the meatballs now!’
Zuko chuckles next to him and props open the car door.
IKEA is, as always, the tenth circle of Hell which Dante didn’t mention only because it wasn’t invented back when Dante was alive. Sokka feels very intellectual knowing about Dante’s Divine Comedy and being able to list all nine circles of Hell, but it’s really all thanks to Zuko and his literature degree.
(The second circle, for anyone who cares, is lust, but let’s not dwell.)
But they get through it. If prone to dramatics, you could say they got through it because they were together, and as long as they’re together they can get through anything. Sokka wants to smack himself for even thinking something so deeply embarrassing.
Zuko insists on paying for the meatballs.
‘It’s the least I can do after making you drive me here and go through the whole store with me.’
‘You didn’t make me do anything,’ Sokka returns. ‘I did it because I wanted to. I always want to do anything for you.’
Way too much fucking honesty. Way to go, you fucking idiot. While you’re at it, why not get out a megaphone and tell everyone in this wretched furniture retailer that you’re in love with your best friend?
‘Please,’ Zuko says in return, which is what ultimately makes Sokka cave. Of course it does. ‘I want to do this. Let me pay.’
‘Fine,’ Sokka says. ‘But just so you know, I’m planning on eating a lot. We’re talking full cave man here. At least twenty.’
Zuko gives him one of those smiles that used to be extremely rare but aren’t so rare any more: it’s slow, but then blinds Sokka completely. It even dimples his right cheek. If the choice was between fighting a lion in hand-to-hand combat and never seeing that smile again, Sokka would jump into the lion cage so fast.
So, there they are across from each other in the IKEA restaurant. Sokka’s got five servings of meatballs and an ungodly amount of French fries. Zuko just got a diet Coke but is helping himself to Sokka’s fries.
Sokka’s not complaining. Kind of romantic if you think about it. Sharing food. Going to IKEA.
Couples do that sort of thing.
And they are a couple! A couple of friends. Ha-ha, hurray for using humour as a coping mechanism.
‘Thanks for financing this beautiful meal,’ Sokka says and grabs another French fry. ‘It’s wonderful. You gotta love IKEA.’
‘You hate IKEA,’ Zuko deadpans.
‘Sure do, buddy.’ God, stop it already with the buddy thing. It’s weird.
He suddenly hears Toph’s voice very clearly telling him call him what you really want to call him or call him nothing at all, you coward. He tells Toph-in-his-mind to shove it.
‘But I love IKEA’s meatballs,’ he says. ‘You think we can build that bookcase without killing each other later?’
‘I’m pretty hard to kill,’ Zuko says with this expression that’s almost a smirk and Sokka loves it. ‘If my father couldn’t manage, I don’t think you’ll have more luck.’
Oh shit, here’s to using humour as a coping mechanism!
Sokka smiles back at him even as his heart twists and an ever-present rage snaps inside him. In general, Sokka’s not a violent man, but boy would he love to have a little chat with Zuko’s dad. And by chat he means a gun down his throat. Boom, baby.
But Zuko’s smiling, so Sokka’s smiling back. Sometimes, any mention of his father will plunge Zuko into the Bad Place where he’ll spiral and spiral and shout and not sleep for days. Other times, like right now apparently, he can make a joke about it.
It’s not like the pain isn’t there, it’s just a different way of dealing with it.
‘I don’t know,’ Sokka says. ‘I’m a pretty determined guy. And pretty strong too.’
‘Toph beats you at arm wrestling every single time,’ Zuko counters.
‘Come on!’ He throws out his arms. ‘That’s Toph. She’s unbeatable.’
‘Fair,’ Zuko says. ‘She’s pretty good.’
‘Besides—’ Sokka grabs Zuko’s diet Coke as an excuse to not look at the man in front of him. He pushes the straw between his lips and takes a long sip, then says, ‘besides, we’ll build the bookcase without having a fight about it.’
‘Because you’re so good at building furniture?’
‘That’s right, baby!’ Sokka grins. ‘Because I’m so bloody brilliant at building furniture.’
Zuko is staring at him. His eyes look shimmery and his mouth’s a little open, like Sokka said something weird—
Oh, fuck. Sokka said something weird, didn’t he?
Why can’t he just keep his stupid big mouth closed?
(It’s not like he regrets it, per se. Okay, well actually, he does regret it, because he’s not supposed to leave buddy zone to enter the baby zone. But it’s more like—he does want to say it again, too. Again and again. Wants to call him other things, too. Like sweetheart. Darling. Wow, this is so embarrassing and it’s only happening inside his own head. Sike. He feels himself flush red and looks back at his meatballs.)
(He regrets it, but he doesn’t.)
(Zuko looked kind of really pretty with his lips parted like that and a dusting of pink across his cheeks.)
‘Anyways,’ he clears his throat. ‘You’re unkillable and I’m great with a toolbox, so nobody’s dying tonight.’
Back at Zuko’s place later, it only takes them half an hour to build the bookcase, and a significant amount of that time is spent waiting for Zuko to decide where he wants each shelf to go.
Zuko makes tea afterwards and it tastes kind of like lavender and something else Sokka can’t place, and Zuko looks stunning in his red jumper with his hair mussed up.
Life is wonderful and entirely pointless at the same time.
***
‘Katara tells me she and Aang are going out tomorrow.’
Sokka’s on the phone with his dad. His dad is great and he loves him times infinity, but he does not love where this conversation is probably heading.
‘Yes…?’ he replies hesitantly. ‘Aang even asked for my advice.’
‘And what about you?’ Hakoda asks. Somehow or other, he figured out about Sokka’s huge crush on Zuko and all things considered, he’s being pretty decent about the whole thing and doesn’t tease him too much, but he still brings it up semi-regularly. ‘Any plans?’
‘Dad,’ Sokka says. ‘My love life is nobody else’s business.’
‘So that’s a no,’ he returns with a laugh. ‘Can I ask—’
‘Please don’t,’ Sokka returns. ‘I know you’re going to anyway, but like, please don’t.’
‘What are you afraid of?’
Not the question Sokka was expecting. To be fair, he isn’t sure exactly what he was expecting. Something terrible. To be fair, this is also pretty terrible.
He closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh. ‘What d’you mean?’ he mumbles. He kind of hopes his dad can’t hear him, or the connection will suddenly crash and save him from this.
‘You know what I mean,’ Hakoda says. His voice is soft; with his eyes closed, it feels like his dad is right next to him, gently giving him advice. ‘Are you afraid of him turning you down?’
Sokka sighs. His eyes suddenly burn. He’s not going to cry about this, not on the phone with his dad. Just because it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow—it doesn’t mean anything. It’s a stupid made-up thing to sell more shitty chocolate and heart-shaped everything.
‘Of course,’ Sokka manages in the end. ‘But it’s not just—I don’t want to lose him. Okay? I tell him I—you know, like him or whatever, and he won’t know how to react, so he’ll be super awkward and weird, and everything will be ruined, and I don’t want that. I know that you and Katara and apparently everyone in the entire fucking world knows that I love him, and I’m not stupid, okay? If it’s that obvious, then he probably knows too, and since he hasn’t said anything about it… Well, I’m not stupid. I know he doesn’t like me back.’
‘Sokka,’ Hakoda says on the other line. Not pitying, which is good, because Sokka would hang up if he sounded like he pitied him. He doesn’t want pity. He wants to go to bed.
‘Dad,’ he returns, and deflates immediately. Now he just feels a little hollow. Sad and hopeless. The way Zuko looked in the car last week when he admitted he was into someone, but it wouldn’t ever work out.
‘You’re afraid of losing him,’ Hakoda says. ‘Did you ever think—by keeping all this bottled-up, you may lose him because of that?’
‘Don’t,’ Sokka mumbles. ‘Please. Don’t give me a headache.’
‘What was it you used to say all the time when you were younger?’ He hums for a second as he considers. ‘Like that time you tuned the lawn mower to make it go faster and then crashed into the fence?’
The memory makes a smile tug on Sokka’s lips. Obviously, it wasn’t so fun back then when he sprained his wrist. ‘No risk, no fun,’ he echoes his old catchphrase.
‘That’s it,’ Hakoda says, sounding way too self-satisfied. Like he remembered the whole time, but just wanted to make Sokka say it.
Sokka sighs again. ‘It’s different.’
‘What happened to my brave warrior?’ Hakoda asks. ‘Fearless Sokka the Audacious Wolf.’
‘I’m going to hang up,’ Sokka threatens, but Hakoda’s laughing, and Sokka can’t help laughing with him.
‘No risk, no fun,’ he says. ‘Go get him, son.’
For some reason, Sokka feels a little lighter when they hang up. A little less hopeless.
Or—maybe it’s not like that. Maybe he still thinks it’ll be deeply embarrassing to confess his feelings to Zuko, but maybe it’s time to don his old alter ego again. Maybe it’s time to become Sokka the Audacious Wolf. Brave and fearless, chasing risks for the fun of it.
It’ll be embarrassing, but then it’ll be done. Zuko can turn him down and Sokka can eat five pints of Ben and Jerry’s, vomit his guts into the toilet, sleep for twenty hours straight, and then get over himself.
***
The bell above the door chimes as Sokka breezes into The Jasmine Dragon, the tea parlour owned by Zuko’s uncle.
The place is packed, which makes sense, even though it’s only around ten in the morning. Almost all the tables are taken; everywhere Sokka looks, he sees couples holding hands while they drink tea and share pastries.
Iroh himself is next to a table serving customers, so Sokka stands around and waits for him.
When he’s free, Iroh approaches him with a big smile. ‘Sokka,’ he smiles, and pulls him into a hug. Unlike his nephew, Iroh is pretty tactile. Sokka is as well, so he’s not complaining about it. He returns the hug easily. ‘What can I do for you today?’
‘Uh,’ he scratches behind his ear. ‘Can we go to the back for a second?’
‘Certainly,’ Iroh says. He tells one of the waiters that he’ll be gone for a moment and leads Sokka to a quiet spot in one of the backrooms.
‘This is going to be really embarrassing.’ Sokka’s stalling. He knows he’s stalling. He’s not exactly excited to embarrass himself. You wouldn’t be either, so stay out of it. ‘So I’ll just get it over with.’
‘This is a judgement free zone,’ Iroh says, and somehow it doesn’t sound annoying and cheesy and fake. It just sounds—sincere. Like he really won’t judge Sokka, whatever embarrassing shit he’s about to say.
‘I’minlovewithZuko,’ the words rush out, tumbled together into a messy heap of nonsense. His eyes stay squeezed shut because he can’t face Iroh right now, doesn’t want to see what he looks like. ‘And I was, uh—well, today is, you know—’
‘Yes, of course,’ Iroh says after a few long moments have passed in silence. ‘Today is Valentine’s Day.’
‘Yes.’ Sokka’s voice sounds all squeaky. Like he’s one of those dog toys that let out a high-pitched sound when you squeeze them. ‘He told me you made, uh, tea? So I would like to buy some and then I will, uh—actually, I don’t know yet what I’m going to do, I haven’t really thought this through yet.’
Iroh’s hand is on Sokka’s upper arm and squeezing it. Sokka opens his eyes just the tiniest bit and is met with the gentlest expression imaginable. Judgement free zone indeed.
‘Is this a terrible idea?’ he breathes out, then holds his breath again. Iroh wouldn’t lie, right?
‘Not at all,’ he says. ‘You must always follow your heart, wherever it’s bound to lead you. Let me pack up some tea for you.’
Sokka breathes out. Wonderfully cryptic nonsense. He didn’t tell him it was a bad idea to confess to Zuko, which could mean there’s a chance Zuko might, possibly, conceivably, God willing, like him back. But Iroh could also just mean, like, you have to do this even though you’ll look like a fool! It’s really 50/50 here, isn’t it?
(More like 99/1, because Sokka is well aware of his own shortcomings and the fact that Zuko is so painfully out of his league. Like, they’re not even close to being in the same league. Zuko competes in the Olympics and Sokka is fumbling around in Toddler League.)
He follows Iroh back into the main parlour and waits while he packs up the tea blend for him. It’s in a usual brown bag, but the label is a big pink heart with THE POWER OF LOVE written in swirly cursive in the middle.
‘Here you go,’ he says.
Sokka gets out his wallet, but Iroh fixes him with a glance. ‘I’m not taking money from friends and family,’ he says. ‘Go on, then.’
‘Thank you,’ Sokka replies lamely, grabbing the tea with both hands. He bows his head to Iroh and thanks him again, says goodbye.
No risk, no fun, he tells himself again. It’s going to be fine.
If nothing else, he can always join the monastery Aang grew up in.
***
Sokka takes a deep breath.
This is, frankly, getting ridiculous. He needs to get over this shit so he can go back to being the funny guy and quit being the guy who’s too busy pining to tell any great jokes. Or maybe his life is the great joke right now.
No, no. We’re not talking like that. We are confident and determined as we go dig our own grave. We’re bringing an extra shovel, just in case.
He thought of calling because it’d be less humiliating than showing up at Zuko’s doorstep. Then he thought of texting because it’d be even less humiliating, but in the end he drives to Zuko’s flat and presses the buzzer.
Well, he spends roughly twelve minutes in the car psyching himself up, but eventually he does get out and goes to press the buzzer.
The February wind knifes through his coat. Is that an omen? It’s probably an omen. It’s cold as shit, just like Sokka’s future love life. Barren. Empty.
Oh, good, Zuko’s buzzing him into the building.
Oh, bad, Zuko’s buzzing him into the building.
He takes the stairs two at a time, then knocks on the door. He can barely breathe, standing there bundled up with a thick scarf and holding the tea blend Iroh packaged for him. He stopped by the bookstore and went through the poetry section too, picked out one with love poems because hey, no risk, no fun, right? That’s how he rolls now, Sokka the Audacious Wolf. He’s fearless.
He only stands waiting a moment, then Zuko swings open the door.
Surprise washes over his face: his eyes go wide and his mouth drops open and this wonderful dusty rose creeps up his pale skin.
‘Sokka?’ He opens the door wider and steps aside to let him in. ‘What’re you doing here?’
‘Something stupid,’ he mutters, quiet enough that Zuko hopefully won’t even hear. ‘I’m not interrupting?’ he checks, because it would be so embarrassing if that thing Zuko alluded to actually did end up working out, and the person he’s actually into is here now, and Sokka, always such a fool, is barging in on what was supposed to be a hot date.
Remind him again why he’s doing this?
Zuko likes someone! Someone who isn’t Sokka! What is the bloody point of this?
Okay, deep breath.
‘Of course not,’ Zuko says, still looking confused and maybe a little worried.
He shoves the gift-wrapped book and the packaged tea blend at Zuko. ‘Happy Valentine’s Day.’
The confusion only deepens. As does that blush that makes him look so cute, now a brighter red. It matches the jumper he’s wearing. He wears red often, which is great because it suits him. It’s also terrible because it makes Sokka’s life difficult.
‘What?’ Zuko says. He’s holding the things Sokka gave him, but not really looking at them. He’s holding them as if he’s simply holding them for Sokka and they aren’t meant for him.
‘It’s Valentine’s Day,’ Sokka says eloquently. ‘I hope you have a, uh, happy one.’
He could smack himself.
Instead, he busies himself with taking off his scarf and coat. He bends down to untie his boots as well, shuffles out of them. He takes a steadying, deep breath.
Just get it over with already. Someone else will come claim the title of Funniest Dude in Town while you’re busy being a wanker, so just get it over with and you can go back to cracking jokes and making people laugh.
‘I’m going to say something now and afterwards we can just pretend it never happened,’ Sokka says, just as Zuko mumbles, ‘did my uncle put you up to this?’
Sokka’s so thrown off by that that he just stares for a moment. His eyes narrow. ‘No?’ he says. ‘What the fuck is that even supposed to mean? No, just let me—just let me do this because it’s kind of hard. I think I’m about to have one of your panic attacks.’
‘Sokka,’ Zuko’s voice is suddenly solid; not angry, just—it’s difficult to put into words. Something hard that snaps Sokka into focus, something firm that keeps him from spiralling. He can do this. Let’s just risk it all. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I like you,’ he finally manages. His voice cracks on the like so the rest is barely a whisper, but he manages. He looks at Zuko’s chest instead of his face, then clears his throat. Obviously, he’s forgotten the neat speech he prepared in the car, so he just fumbles his way through it. ‘I mean, it’s obvious. It’s obvious to everyone. I think about you all the time and I want to make you happy all the time and I want to kiss you so fucking badly. It’s pretty distracting actually. I’m supposed to be the comedian here, but I’m too busy thinking about your pretty eyes to come up with any good jokes.’
Zuko’s not pushing him away, not telling him to leave (yet), so Sokka channels all his bravery and looks up at his face.
He’s looking at Sokka like he’s never seen him before.
Confusion and shock and something else—hope, maybe, or disbelief—all swim across his beautiful, beautiful face. Golden eyes and flushed cheeks and his lips twisting into a smile, shy and doubtful at the same time.
‘And I know you said you like someone else,’ Sokka barrels on, his own cheeks probably as flushed as Zuko’s. ‘But you said it wasn’t going to work out, so… I don’t know? I got you something. Well, you can see that. I mean, you’re holding it.’ He sighs out. He can hear Katara and Toph laughing at the way he’s making a fool of himself. ‘Please say something because this is super embarrassing.’
‘You got me the tea from Uncle’s shop?’ Zuko sounds dazed as he looks from the tea package to Sokka again.
‘Technically he didn’t let me pay for it,’ Sokka admits with a shy smile. Zuko still hasn’t kicked him out. ‘Said something about not accepting money from friends and family.’
‘Probably because he knows I’ve been in love with you since we were teenagers.’
Wait, what?
Sokka is now the one to stand with his eyes wide and mouth open.
What kind of sick fever dream is this?
‘What?’ he demands, voice all croaky like there’s a toad in his throat.
Zuko gives him that shy, stunning smile again. And then, God help him, he just shrugs. ‘I didn’t say I liked someone else. I said I liked someone. Want to come inside?’
Sokka is still a bit flabbergasted and technically not convinced he hasn’t passed out and is hallucinating this whole thing, but he follows Zuko into his living room. He sits down on that wonderfully huge sectional he bought when he got this place. Zuko sits next to him, but with enough space between them that they don’t touch.
‘So,’ Zuko says. He’s put the tea down on the coffee table and is now fidgeting with the bow of the wrapped-up book. ‘How long?’
Sokka groans. He rolls his eyes at himself and leans back into the soft couch and groans again. ‘So long,’ he says. ‘Way too long. Years. Why didn’t you say something?’
‘Why didn’t you say something?’
‘‘Cause you’re way out of my league, asshole?’
Zuko snorts. ‘Yeah, right.’
‘Seriously.’
‘Still not entirely convinced you’re not just here because Uncle paid you.’
‘Fuck off,’ Sokka laughs, ‘he wouldn’t do that. You should’ve said something.’
‘Sokka,’ Zuko says crisply, ‘I asked you to read Persuasion for me. I bookmarked the love declaration.’
‘So?’ Sokka croaks. ‘You’re a romantic. It’s cute.’
Zuko rolls his eyes.
‘Wait, you mean—’
‘Duh,’ he says. ‘Who’s the asshole now?’
‘Oh, wow.’ Sokka’s quiet for a second. ‘I’m an idiot.’
‘Keep telling me things I already know.’
‘You’re really pretty,’ Sokka smirks, and delights in the startled sound it draws from Zuko. ‘And you should open your present.’
He grumbles something, but dutifully unwraps the present. He runs his fingers over the cover carefully, then cracks open the spine to skim the table of contents.
‘Wow, I’m so glad you didn’t kick me out, because then this would’ve been significantly more humiliating. Like, can you imagine, you tell me to get lost and then you open this and it’s love poems, and you’re like, oh my God, Sokka, I’m not even into you—?’
‘You talk too much,’ Zuko says, but there’s no bite to it. None at all. Instead, his face is lit up by this dopey smile Sokka’s never seen before, like he’s so happy he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
That’s kind of how Sokka’s feeling.
Why the fuck haven’t they even kissed yet?
‘Thank you,’ Zuko says, still smoothing his fingers over the book like it’s precious. He looks back at Sokka. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t got anything for you, I didn’t think—’
‘Liar!’ Sokka interrupts. ‘Come sit in my lap and let me kiss you stupid, baby. I don’t care about tea and books, I’m not some kind of nerd.’
Zuko looks—indescribable. Overcome by joy and slightly amused and maybe a little turned-on, or just very, very excited. He puts down the book and hesitantly moves closer to Sokka.
‘Come on,’ Sokka grabs his wrist and pulls him close, guides him into his lap properly. ‘That’s better, baby.’
Zuko lets out that sound again—choked, cut-off. Like a moan but not really. He is looking everywhere but at Sokka’s face, which is bad, awful, terrible.
But Sokka’s smirking to himself. ‘Baby,’ he says slowly, testing.
And Zuko does it again, and squirms where he’s sitting, and digs his teeth into his lip. With his hands clenched into fists, he huffs out something Sokka doesn’t catch.
‘Are you going to let me kiss you?’ Sokka asks and runs his hands up Zuko’s back. He’s dreamt of this many times, but the real thing is better. Way better. He cradles Zuko’s face and swipes his thumb across his cheek, carefully avoiding the scar. ‘You’re so pretty. I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long, darling.’
Smooth-talking Sokka is back. Game on, baby. He lost it for a second, but he’s back. King of comedy and seduction. Oh, yeah. Let’s rock and roll.
Zuko melts in Sokka’s hands, leans close to kiss him.
It’s a bit clumsy in the beginning, both of them too excited to slow down and let it happen at its own pace.
But then the magic begins. Zuko sighs as Sokka cradles his neck and tilts his head to the side; Sokka can’t stifle a surprised moan when Zuko gently bites down on his lower lips and tugs.
This is hands-down the best day of Sokka’s life.
Life is entirely wonderful and nothing is pointless, ever. The power of love, baby!