Chapter Text
--- "Hey," he raps his knuckles against Zuko's bicep, like one sometimes does wood for good luck. His friend doesn't really react, but that isn't unusual. Chances are, he's listening regardless. It's not like Sokka forgot to stay on his good side this time. When they had just met, he used to think he was being ignored. Zuko had come across more aloof than awkward to him then. Intimidating, even. It had been one month into their sharing classes when he'd finally realized that, half the time, Zuko hadn't even heard him. The other half, as Zuko'd told him once, when they'd imbibed in one too many fruity beers at some dorm mixer { because why the hell would you drink the bitter stuff when you could drink bubbly lemonade-type alcohol ? }, Zuko just didn't know what to say, or how to say it, and once he did, the moment had already passed. It was easier to let it slide, pretend like he meant not to reply in the first place. If he seemed cold in the process, he'd just have to live with that. He wasn't popular, didn't have many friends, but at least he also didn't make a fool out of himself. Sokka had understood him so much better after that, and, if he's honest, kind of purposely became his friend. He hadn't regretted doing so even a single second of the past three years though.
He shows him his phone, waiting a while for the other's gaze to shift from his own light-up rectangle to his. Sokka watches his eyes; the warm, gold-flecked amber, widening slightly as he processes what Sokka is showing him. "Is that him?" Sokka asks. He thinks maybe he imagines the flush in Zuko's cheeks, or the way he almost seems to shrink a little in his seat, usually wide shoulders turning inward a little. "Yeah.." He mumbles, turning his gaze decidedly back to his own phone, scrolling seemingly aimlessly.
"He friended me." Sokka says, flopping back over to his side of the couch, sinking into the seat a little as he holds his phone up to his face again { admittedly a little too closely.. Katara might have been right when she'd said he should look into getting glasses the other day }. "Oh.." Comes the eloquent reply to his left. Brick wall, that one. "You don't mind, do you?" He asks, giving the brunet a sidelong glance. "Why would I mind?" Zuko replies, though the tension in his lips opposes his words. Sokka's gaze lingers a moment, but Zuko's lips remain a tight line, nothing like the lush plumpness he's made a habit of staring at for inappropriate lengths. He tears his gaze away, and back to the profile on his phone. One might call the shots 'artistic', but depending on the audience, people tend to just call them 'thirst traps'. But, like.. Emotional thirst traps? What are those called? There's a line between his brows, as he tries to come up with a new term, a good pun for it, maybe.
Point is, it's the kind of profile that gives you whiplash about a guy's personality. Is he a violent anarchist? Or does he love puppies? Both? Sokka figures this Jet is the type of guy that would suit his sister's incredibly bad taste { well, barring Aang, of course }. She'd drool all over this 'I saved these puppies from their asshole breeder' image and those dumb, soulful eyes. His profile says he's bi, so-- Not that he plans on pointing Katara in this guy's direction. His gut says he's bad news. And, frankly, he does not even need his gut. He kind of believes what sparse details Zuko had told him. And he should know. It's his ex, after all. For as far as sixteen year old green-to-the-world boys can be exes anyway. He shouldn't.. And yet.. It intrigues, like bad decisions tend to do. "'re you sure?" He asks, hovering his finger over the accept request button.
"Yeah, don't worry about it."
He hesitates only a moment longer. Zuko says 'yes' sometimes, when he means 'absolutely the fuck not', but, Sokka thinks, he should learn to just communicate already. It's exhausting trying to parse what Zuko really means sometimes. And besides, if he wants to see what this guy is all about { test his emotional anarchist theory }, then he should be allowed to. He's an adult, damn it. Though.. There is the bro code...
And yet, when he looks back to his left, Zuko seems already distracted by something else entirely.
Sokka clicks the button.
-------
For all intents and purposes, and despite the sign above the door that reads 'bar', this place is a dump. It's brown, and smoky, and there is a sour smell in the air that makes Sokka feel like no one's opened a window in this place in at least a decade. When he sits down in a booth, of which the leather was probably once red and shiny, but which is currently peeling off in big chunks, he can tell everything is covered in a sticky sort of film. Gross.. What a place for a first date.. Perhaps it's a 'only place to go is up' type deal? Though, when he looks at the stained menu, he finds that what's on offer is right up his alley. And the alcohol is cheaper than he's seen it in years. A few minutes of surveying his choices later, he finds himself tapping the small booklet against the table and checking his watch. He's anally punctual, he knows that, but they said eight and it's nearer to quarter past now. He's starting to think he's been stood up. He checks his phone, but there's no new messages in his DMs. Just the same briefest of conversations they'd had before agreeing to go on a date. Something-something nice eyes, and where should we go for our first date? It'd been so awfully presumptuous and confident that Sokka had been rather too flabbergasted to come up with a better reply than 'surprise me'. Well.. Colour him surprised by this place.
20:21, he'd nearly gotten up and left. Already texting Katara that his date was a bust and that his gut-feeling should never, ever, ever be ignored again. And also, he wants her to bring by ice-cream later. But when he looks up, ready to grab his bag, he nearly jumps upon noticing the guy that stands on his side of the booth. "Scoot," he says around the toothpick that's hung in an annoyingly attractive, nonchalant way out of the corner of the guy's mouth. Also annoying is that he is as handsome as the pictures on his profile had suggested. Usually people at least have the grace to be a little less good-looking in real life. "Uh.. Hey," He says, not moving an inch. "Jet?"
"That's me," His date grins at him. Sokka's eyes slide up and down the young man in front of him. A motorhelmet dangles from one hand, a black backpack hangs casually off his opposite shoulder, hand shoved in the pocket of his distressed, black jeans. He's got bad-boy written all over him. Almost caricaturally so.
"Are ya gonna scoot or what?"
Sokka blinks up at him "Oh, uh, yeah!" He scrambles, sliding deeper into the sticky booth. Why didn't he just get in on the other side? Not to mention, he's already sitting close enough that Sokka can feel the warmth of his leg nearly against his own.
Damn.. He.. Doesn't hate it. It's cocky, but more in a self-assured way than an arrogant way. Like he just knows what he wants, or something. Sokka never knows what he wants. How often has he returned his newly acquired clothes after hating them the next day? He's even changed his major twice.. His interests just.. Wander, he supposes. Jet pushes a hand through his hair. Sokka would describe it as a hazelnut mess of 'just-rolled-out-of-bed'. Though the kind that takes at least twenty minutes to be that perfectly messy.
"You order anything yet?" He jerks his gaze away, back down to the menu in front of him. "Uh, no. I was waiting for you" It's the polite thing to do. Christ alive, this guy must think he's slow or something, the way he looks at him, all intensely, like he's trying to figure him out. Jet casually raises his hand and a waitress moseys on over, chatting him up like he's a regular here. "Chili cheese fries are the best here," Sokka had had his eye on those, so he nods. He can look past the tardiness, he decides.. Though he knows someone else that would have hated that, if that turned out to be a habit..
They order a beer each { unfortunately not the fruity kind, somehow Sokka thinks a guy like Jet would frown on that }, and get to talking. Jet is an anarchist, Sokka surmises from what he tells him. An eco-anarchist, of sorts. Though to hear him tell it, Eco-terrorism wouldn't be a misnomer either.. It's a bit.. Much, even if Sokka agrees with some of his ideals. As the night goes on, Sokka keeps trying to figure out what made Zuko hate this guy's guts so much. When you were privy to Zuko's side of things, Jet came out of it looking like the scum of the earth, and yet.. Sokka can't see that as true. Sure, he is a bit intense, and he seemed to see the world very black and white, good and bad and nothing inbetween, but.. He is charming, and fun to be around. Sokka hasn't been bored for a moment, and dare he say it.. He was intrigued. Definitely interested in learning more. All in all... A pretty good first date.
"So how do you know Zuzu?" The question comes suddenly, and Sokka hadn't expected it when they'd finally landed on the merits of fruitiness in beers { to his surprise Jet had agreed with him }. "Oh, uh.. Wait what?" Jet takes his toothpick out of his mouth and flicks it onto their empty plate. "Zuko. You're his friend, right? That's how I found you." Ah, yes.. The safety of the internet~
"Yeah, hold on, I'm still recovering from that nickname," Sokka laughs. Jet smirks a little "Don't tell me you haven't met his sister?" Sokka pretends to shudder, which in turn makes Jet laugh "Yeah, she was pretty intense even back then, and she was a fucking fourteen-year old, but.. That's her nickname for 'm. It kinda stuck." Zuzu, oh Zuko was going to kill him for sure if he started calling him that. But it was very tempting nonetheless. Sokka clears his throat, returning to the intial question. "Well, I majored in law for like a whole two months before deciding it was absolutely not for me, but.. Yanno, you get all the introductory stuff, get-to-know-you games, blah blah blah. Zuko was in my group, and I guess I just--" latched on to him, enough to make it through two months of law when he'd wanted to quit after three weeks.. "--thought he could use a friend." He finishes. Jet snickers at that. "Not wrong. Zuzu's not so good with people." Sokka had noticed that too. Zuko was a loner. Nowadays, he had fully acclimatized to Sokka's friendgroup, and even some of Suki's girl friends, but when they'd met, Sokka thinks his hard-headed, introverted friend had been.. All alone.
Sokka picks at the label on his beerbottle, pointedly avoiding those hazel eyes. "I hear you and zuz-ko dated..?" Whoops, nearly slipped there. It's hard not to take to the nickname when Jet kept calling him that. Jet laughs and Sokka can't be sure it's because of the near slip-up, or because of the question. "I mean, I guess. We were sixteen, and acting like it." He gives Sokka a meaningful look, but whatever it's meant to convey, sokka doesn't get it. His brow furrows some. Jet's grin dies down to a smile "We were little assholes," he clarifies. "both'f us had a bunch of issues at home, so we went around and wrecked some shit, loitered, underage drinking, the works." He leans back against the booth and shrugs "When we got in some real trouble he got the blame. But it's all sealed. Us being minors and all."
Ah.. That explained a lot. Zuko, trying-to-be-a-lawyer Zuko had a juvenile record, and Jet was partially to blame, Sokka supposed. That would sour you to a person right-quick. Still, water under the bridge, right? That had been like six years ago now.. Could he really still be that hung up about it? Maybe it was wrong that he knew, now. Without Zuko's knowledge or permission. Then again, he hadn't set out to spy on him or anything.. Not really. Though he suppose that.. Jet knowing Zuko from way back had been part of the intrigue..
God, he's a terrible friend..
He snaps out of it when Jet flicks his ear. "--Huh?"
"I said should we get outta here?"
"Oh, sorry, spaced out," he laughs a little "yeah, sure." He does not stop to think what Jet means by 'getting outta here'.
Somehow, Jet's got a new toothpick dangling from his lips. Sokka can tell it's new because the old one is still sat among the left-over chilisauce on their plate. They slide out of the booth together, Sokka protests only briefly when Jet pays for their meal, then follows him out. There is only one motorcycle in the parkinglot, and it's a nice one, too. Though Sokka knows precious little about the things. Both his dad and Katara would kill him if he got onto a 'deathtrap' like that.
"So," Jet leans against the seat of his parked bike, his helmet left there so he can exchange the toothpick for a cigarette. 'What do you mean oral fixation', Sokka thinks privately. "Hm?" Jet waits until he's lit up to continue his sentence. "Does he know ya got a thing for him?"
He stares, and is sure he can feel the way the veins in his neck and face fill with a rush of blood. There is no way he does not colour a deep red. "Excuse me?" He knows exactly what Jet is talking about, but.. Plausible deniability { at least he picked up something from those two months of law.. }. The cherry of Jet's cigarette burns bright red as he inhales, and Sokka follows the swirl of smoke as it seeps from the other's nose and lips. "Don't worry, he's the most oblivious guy I ever met," Jet says. Sokka is at a loss for words, he does not even attempt to deny what Jet has already { rightly } decided is going on. "He's not gonna figure it out unless you tell him."
"I don't--" He knows intuitively, even before he finishes his sentence, that Jet will see right through him. Even now, the way he looks at him is calculating, expectant. And then it switches like the blink of an eye, his lips curving, and his arm swinging forward as he dangles the helmet on two fingers towards Sokka. "Well, before then, wanna go for a ride?" The smirk he wears makes Sokka think he has a double meaning in mind. "Uh-" honestly, he cannot believe this guy is still interested in him at all, considering how supremely intelligent he has been throughout their date.. And how apparently obvious he is about his loyalties laying elsewhere. Jet's arm must be getting tired by the time Sokka makes up his mind.
"Err, no, thanks.. I don't really do motorcycles. Kind of a 'wanna-stay-alive' thing.." Jet barks a laugh, and flicks the helmet back under his arm. Everything he does really is annoyingly suave. "Suit yerself," he takes one more drag from his cigarette, then drops it and squashes it under the sole of his boot. That messy hair { maybe it wasn't 20-minutes worth of pampering after all } disappears under the helmet. Jet salutes him "Tell Zuzu I said hi," he says, and before Sokka can reply, he's flicked his visor down, and revved the engine, speeding off in a way that makes Sokka glad he declined the ride.
"No," he mutters, turning to make his way up the street to the busstop "I don't think I will.."