Work Text:
There's a knock at the door, and Zuko ignores it. If it's important, they'll knock again.
They knock again.
Sighing, Zuko stands, hits the hotkey to lock the computer and shuffles over to the door, cracking it open.
"Hey, neighbor."
"Hello, Sokka," Zuko replies, opening the door wider. "What brings you to my—"
Sokka is already facedown on Zuko's bed.
Obligingly, Zuko moves the pile of clothes from the bed to the second chair. "What happened?"
"Nothing," Sokka says, voice thick.
"Mm." Zuko closes the door politely, settles back at his computer, and opens up the essay he's editing. He's not really concentrating on it anymore, but it's something to do— he pokes at the words and shakes a few loose; cleans them up and sticks them back on. Any minute now.
"Um," Sokka says.
"Yeah?"
"It's not nothing."
"What happened?"
"Test sucked," Sokka says. "And it was Yue's last day here— she's officially on the plane to another country. And my leg is bothering me."
That's three problems, but Zuko can't do anything about two of them other than offer sympathy. He waits a beat and then proposes a solution to the third.
"Ibuprofen?"
"No. Just wanna lay down."
Zuko walks over and runs his fingers through Sokka's hair, the short strands of the undercut, and loosens up the ponytail inadvertently. Sokka's hair bunches under his hands and Zuko's nails scrape lightly against his scalp.
Sokka sighs.
"Thanks."
"I'm not really doing much," Zuko murmurs.
"You're always so nice to me."
Though Sokka can't see, Zuko shrugs. It's true that there's only one person who would ever be allowed to lay down on Zuko's nice sheets. Or interrupt him at any time.
Sokka sits back up, and leans into Zuko's side, and Zuko tucks Sokka as close to his body as he can and wraps one arm around to push his hand into Sokka's hair again, scratching at the scalp, brushing down the strands.
"Why are you so nice to me?" Sokka asks.
Because I'm a little bit in love with you, Zuko thinks.
"It's nothing," Zuko says.