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“Where did you learn to use a sword?” Zuko asked him one day when they were washing the bowls after dinner. His was warm beside Sokka, methodically cleaning the bowls in the stream, boiling the water in intervals.
Sokka shrugged and grinned. “Why do you wanna know?” He flexed smugly and grinned even bigger when Zuko rolled his eyes.
After the Boiling Rock, Sokka and Zuko spent a lot of time together. Sokka liked Zuko, liked how earnest, how unintentionally funny he was. Liked that he offered to wash the dishes with Sokka after every meal even though Katara could use her bending (when he brought this up before, she very meanly pointed out that she did the cooking and that you better not be going back to your old ways, or I’ll sick Sukki on you!). So, every evening, when Katara, Aang, Toph and Suki went off to do whatever they did, Sokka and Zuko would clean.
Zuko placed the clean bowl with the others, picked up the dirty pot and said, “You need to practice more.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sokka scoffed. He wasn’t actually that insulted; he knew Zuko well enough to know it wasn’t meant rudely. Zuko was just like that.
The wet cloth slapped the inside of the pot as Zuko replied, face contorting in a lax scowl that meant he was thinking. “I think you’ve only just started, and you’re not going to get better without practising with someone who knows how to use swords.”
Sokka smiled. “That your way of offering?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure, buddy, I’d love to practice with you!”
Zuko looked relieved. “Good.”
They fell into a comfortable silence, cleaning the rest of the dishes before bringing them back to camp and leaving them to dry beside the fire. At this point, Sokka would go and find Suki. Goad her into sparring with him, but Suki didn’t use swords.
“Do you want to spar now?” Sokka asked. Even though Zuko had been the one to suggest it, Sokka actually felt awkward asking.
Zuko blinked wide-eyed, which meant he was surprised and nodded. “Sure. I want to gauge your level.”
“Thanks, buddy. I’ll meet you by the river.” Sokka patted his shoulder and went to get his sword. Master Piandao had tried his best to teach Sokka as much as possible in their limited time, but Zuko was right. Sokka couldn’t rely on what he’d learnt when it barely scratched the surface.
As much as they all pretended, this was war. They were going to have to fight. Sokka couldn’t rely on sarcasm when his enemy would slit his throat before he got the first word out. His hand hovered over the handle of his sword.
This felt real.
He picked it up and left the tent quickly, hoping neither Sukki nor Katara would see him. The moon was low in the sky, slowly rising with her warm glow. Sokka smiled at her like he always did and wondered what Yue would think of this if she had been with them in this abandoned temple or back home, helping her tribe rebuild.
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Sokka arrived on the river bank. Zuko was already there, cross-legged on the grass, facing the setting sun and breathing slowly. He looked peaceful. Even when Zuko and Aang meditated every morning, there was always an underlying tension between his shoulders, like even that was a performance.
But out here, with the sweet sounds of twittering birds and the soft babbling of water passing by, Zuko looked like he belonged. The sunset stretched over his pale face, amber spreading like honey over his cheekbones before melding into the scar. Sokka wanted to touch the scar.
Then Zuko’s eyelashes fluttered, and his eyes snapped open, gold matching the burning sun as they locked with Sokka. Sokka’s breath caught in his chest, but he forced himself to relax, calling out to Zuko in greeting. “Hey! You ready for me to kick your ass?”
Zuko scoffed, springing from the ground with a small smile. He picked his twin blades from the ground with a smirk. “Uh-huh. Give it your best shot, buddy.”
Sokka wasn’t completely new to sword fighting, and he knew Zuko was trying to goad him into attacking without thinking. So, he took a step back and scanned Zuko, trying to find a weak spot like Piandao told him. The most obvious was the scar, stretching over the eye and past the ear. Sokka knew that Zuko couldn’t really see or hear from that side.
But the scar seemed old. Zuko had obviously figured out how to compensate. Still, it was Sokka’s best shot.
He swung at Zuko’s left side, stepping with his right foot. The blade narrowly missed as Zuko took a step back, looking annoyingly unimpressed. Sokka moved again, but his blade was stopped with a clang! Trapping it between Zuko’s twin dao blades.
Metal screeched as they separated, springing back. Sokka groaned as he stumbled slightly before his feet settled. He suddenly realised what Zuko meant. Sokka had yet to learn how to fight anyone seriously. He barely had to do it at the prison. And Zuko was weirdly physically miraculous at the best of times.
Piandao had told Sokka that they would be stronger but slower if he fought someone taller than him. Zuko was taller (not by much, Katara!), but he was stronger than Sukki and faster than Aang. Sokka had seen him scale walls almost as well as the pink acrobat before kicking a door down without momentum building up.
The blade smacked against each other again. Sokka ducked under one swinging blade before taking a step back as the other blade came moments later. Sokka was desperately trying not to trip as Zuko forced him back by this point.
There was a ping as his sword clattered against the stone, and Sokka held his hands up in surrender. Zuko nodded and stepped back, hands falling to his side. He picked up Sokka’s sword and handed it to him.
“That was good.”
“Good? I lost in like two minutes!”
“You trained under Piandao, correct?” Zuko asked, brushing over Sokka’s complaint.
“Yeah.” Sokka stared at the blade in his hand, at the meticulously crafted edges and the handle gripped in his hand. “Guess it didn’t pay off, huh?”
A hand pressed against his, pushing the sword down to Sokka’s side. Zuko’s hand was loose around his fingers, but the other boy was serious when he said, “It has, actually. You obviously aren’t familiar with a blade, but with weapons like clubs.”
“We use them for hunting.”
Zuko nodded. “You didn’t attack immediately like I thought you would, and you went for my weakness, which was a good play.”
“Not good enough.”
“It’s an obvious weakness I’ve had since I was thirteen, Sokka –”
“Wait, what do you mean ‘thirteen’?”
“And I’ve trained for years to be able to fight with it, against opponents like Zhao and,” he paused and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘the avatar’ before he continued, “and you were obviously trying to use Piandao’s advice about taller opponents.”
Sokka felt his cheeks grow warmer with every word, and he desperately wished that Zuko would set him on actual fire rather than burning up with awe. Zuko was so earnest when he spoke, and Sokka really wanted to kiss him.
Woah. Where did that come from?
Before he could ponder that realisation any further, Zuko punched his shoulder and told him to meet him there again tomorrow after he and Aang’s practice.
“You need to stop hanging around Toph,” Sokka replied, but he was smiling.
The worst thing about Zuko, Sokka had come to realise, is that he’s not just good at sword-fighting but also at teaching it. He remembered when he and Katara were wary about letting Zuko train Aang in fire bending, but Zuko was a good teacher. He had more patience than Toph but was less lenient than Katara.
After the first spar, Zuko made Sokka stretch before and after. He then walked him through moves and techniques before the inevitable spar that usually had Sokka flat on his ass.
But Sokka was getting better. The matches lasted longer. There were times when Zuko looked surprised at a move, and more often than not, they were both panting at the end.
A week passed. Sokka and Zuko sparred every day. The others sometimes came to watch, Toph yelling for Zuko to kick his ass, Suki shouting for him to beat Zuko, and Aang just yelling encouragement in general. Katara was Katara and would scowl whenever Zuko beat Sokka, checking him over like Zuko legitimately hurt him.
Sokka appreciated it, but it was kinda embarrassing.
It was early in the morning when Sokka beat Zuko. Aang and Katara had gone foraging for the day, Toph and Suki were sparring with each other, and Sokka finally pinned Zuko.
They were both panting when Zuko stumbled. Usually, Sokka would stop and ask if he was okay; Sokka was the clumsy one, not Zuko. But it was a spar, so Sokka did what Zuko told him to do and took the opportunity. He lunged forward and swiped with his sword, watching with a grin as one of Zuko’s swords skidded across the ground.
Zuko scowled and narrowed his good eye before finding his footing and springing for Sokka. But Sokka’s confidence had rocketed, and he found a sudden burst of strength. Their blades crashed together as Sokka hooked his around Zuko’s wrist, wrenching it back. Zuko dropped his sword with a hiss and caught it with his other hand.
But Sokka had asked Suki for advice as well. Although he was rapidly improving, Sokka didn’t want to rely on the blade and boomerang. So, Suki had taught him some hand-to-hand as well.
So, when Zuko swung his sword again, Sokka hooked his arms under Zuko’s and flung him over his back, sending them both crashing to the ground. Zuko lay there winded as Sokka pressed his sword to his throat with a grin.
“So, how was that?”
Zuko smiled, cheeks red with exertion, black strands sticking to his face. The grass cradled his face gently, and his body was warm beneath Sokka’s. “Great.”
Sokka’s grin was large. He could feel it pulling his cheeks. He stared at Zuko for a moment, at his stupidly pretty face and the fact that he wanted to kiss it. Without thinking, he touched Zuko’s scar.
Zuko’s hand gripped his wrist in a burning manacle.
“Ah! Fuck! Zuko!” Sokka yelled. Zuko let go with a gasp, but it was too late. Sokka’s skin was an angry red and stung like hell. He stood up without looking at the fire bender and shoved it into the river's cool water.
Behind him, he could hear Zuko sit up and come closer. He didn’t blame him, not really. Sokka shouldn’t have touched the scar without permission. But it hurt. And the smell…
“Sokka?” Zuko’s voice was small, scared. “Should I go and get Katara?”
Katara would kill Zuko. They both knew it.
“Nah!” Sokka said with false cheeriness, finally turning to the fire bender. “It’ll be fine.” He pulled his hand from the water, ignoring the sting to show him. “See! It’s not even that bad.”
Zuko moved closer without touching him to peer at the burn with a pinched expression. It pulled on his scar, making him seem older. “That’s going to scar if we don’t get Katara.”
“Then we’ll match!”
That seemed to be the wrong thing to say. Zuko flinched as if he’d been slapped, hand coming up to his scar. His wide-eyed stare made Sokka turn away. “I’m sorry.”
“It was an accident,” Sokka said firmly. “I shouldn’t have touched you without permission. Especially in a place that you said made you feel vulnerable. I won’t do it again, and you won’t do this again.”
“I won’t.”
Sokka softened. It stung badly, and part of him wanted to go to Katara, but that felt like admitting to Zuko that it hurt, and the poor guy looked very close to tears. Sokka had never seen Zuko look so upset. He looked worse than Aang when he burned Katara or when Toph was hurt (although Zuko looked like he would’ve thrown himself into Katara’s line of fire then as well).
They sat there for a moment, staring at the red skin. Zuko seemed to be forcing himself to look at it as a punishment. He then muttered, “It’s not on the joint, so it shouldn’t impair you.”
The ‘like me’ went unsaid.
“It’s okay, buddy. It’ll be an awesome scar. I’ll tell people I got it beating the prince of the fire nation in battle. They’ll be very impressed.”
Zuko smiled weakly. “But they’ll know it was me.”
“I don’t think we can hide it unless Katara heals it.”
“Will –?”
“No.”
“I’ll wrap it for you,” Zuko said quietly. He stood and squared his shoulders before holding out his hand to Sokka. “It’s the least I can do.”
Sokka smiled and took it without hesitating. “Of course. You’re not allowed to let go of my hand, by the way.”
His hand was warm. Sokka should’ve been scared of the heat, but all he wants to do is bury himself in it, wrap his arms around Zuko and embrace the fire.
“Okay,” Zuko whispered. “Okay.”
“Maybe even kiss me.”
“Sokka!”