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Sokka really wasn't as prepared as he thought he was.
Whatever ideas or plans he made beforehand were fruitless. It was forecasted to snow overnight. A lot. So, Sokka was already resigned to get up in the morning to shovel the snow that would inevitably cover the apartment complex sidewalk.
And so, the walk down the floors started off treacherous and long until Sokka realised that he could've just used the elevator. However, he also realised too late so now he was just annoyed.
“Having to carry this stupid shovel down five flights of stars, FIVE, for no reason….why did no one stop me?... oh maybe it's because NO ONE SANE IS AWAKE RIGHT NOW” Sokka grumbled this to himself as he walked down the last flight of stairs.
Almost tripping down the second-to-last step, Sokka definitely did not fall down the last step face-first with the shovel following. He did not. And he absolutely did not continue to stand back up just to fall back down again.
He did.
Sokka just groaned for a few moments and accepted his demise: lost to the stairs.
He sighed and hauled himself up with the shovel in hand. Just as he stabilised himself, the elevator doors opened and a young man stepped out.
At this time?
That's so weird…
Sokka adjusted his position to see who it was and it was someone he vaguely remembers seeing before.
Very vaguely; sure…
Sokka ran up the ramp of the apartment complex and burst through the doors.
Wind whooshing in as the doors flew open, a cold draft set in as an old, icy welcome. At least that's what Sokka took it as.
He was freezing but at the same time it was so normal to be cold that he was indifferent to the loss of heat.
Until a blast of heat rushed through the atmosphere, scaling the side of the apartment complex like an animal trying to come inside. This resulted in unwanted attention towards the young man coming down the stairs.
His dark clothes did perhaps the opposite of its purpose to camouflage into the shadows, but instead made him still out of place like a sore thumb. His black scarf covering his mouth lead to his very-obviously frozen nose which was the same colour as his scar which covered half his face.
Sokka was mildly captivated by this man and wanted to know more about him.
However, the elevator door pinged and opened up in front of him and he knew it wasn't time yet; he had to take the elevator this time,
The young man uses a blowtorch which is comparatively small.
Sokka sees this, scoffs, drops his shovel and brings out an Aerosol can and a lighter to produce a home-made flamethrower.
To which the man scowls rather indiscreetly and stomps back inside. Sokka believes he's won this competition. That is until he stops for a few seconds to hear Mr. Blowtorch rummaging around noisily and comes back out with a flamethrower.
Fuck.
Sokka did not think this one through.
Was that really attractive or really stupid?
Was that really badass or really annoying?
His head almost burst off with his annoyance seeping through his veins.
He needed to look anywhere else besides this man so he didn't explode all in his face. Looking around at all the snow until his eyes lay on the shovel he discarded when he saw the opportunity to compete with the man.
And then, Sokka remembered why he brought out the shovel in the first place. Sokka exclaimed out loud and caught the man’s attention. The flamethrower stopped as he looked expectantly at Sokka. Just with this realisation, Sokka stomped forwards to stop Mr. Blowtorch only to slip too far and crash down.
Crashing down right into someone.
Right into Mr. Blowtorch.
And so, they both fell, slipping on the new ice formed where the snow once was.
That was all it took for Sokka to unleash Hell.
And by Hell, he just froze.
Until he understood that he was technically sitting on someone and needed to get up. So, he very elegantly scooted his butt across the ice to the edge of it where the snow was.
Once back on the snow, the crunchy, familiar feel of snow, Sokka bolted away. Running and running all the way around the corner. He hurried and glanced through the streets for a nearby store to be open.
Finally, he found one that supplied the salt he was looking for, purchased it and ran all the way back until he almost dropped the salt in one big pile on the ice that had formed. Mr. Blowtorch held him back just before he was about to fall.
Is this more embarrassing than actually falling?
Sokka tried to brush past the feeling, dusted himself off and started placing the salt on the ice. He then looked back at the perpetrator who stood there awkwardly deciding on the best course of action.
Sokka ended up arguing about all the stupid ways that he could've died. He ended up so engrossed in his little speech that he followed Mr. Blowtorch into the elevator and all the way outside of his apartment door. Sokka did not notice until Mr. Blowtorch rustled his keys and unlocked his door.
Sokka spluttered a few seconds before regaining composure. All the while, Mr. Blowtorch walked inside and grabbed some items from another room. Just when Sokka was ready to leave, Mr. Blowtorch arrived and held out a packet to Sokka’s face, “Marshmallow?”
Sokka just stared expectedly at the gesture. Mr. Blowtorch just carried on nervously, “Hi, my name is Zuko. Sorry about the erm ice, I didn't know that would happen. I'm not very acquainted with the snow yet.”
Sokka pushed out a soft laugh and replied, “Clearly, you don't heat snow in the cold. It just turns to ice.” Zuko nodded and looked off into the distance as if curiously thinking about his next words. Sokka carried on, “That's why we shovel the snow.”
“Yes, well at least it looked cool, right?” Zuko tried to say lightheartedly but Sokka could hear a nervous undertone.
Sokka started nodding unconsciously then spoke, “It was pretty cool. My name’s Sokka by the way. And yeah, I'd like marshmallows.”
Zuko stepped aside and let Sokka inside, which he did so gladly. Zuko began to reply, “I'm Zuko- wait I've already said that, oh nevermind. Marshmallows right. Do you want anything else? Tea? Hot chocolate?”
“How about you put that blowtorch to good use and make us some s’mores?” Sokka bounced the idea, grinning. “Atleast that blow torch idea won't freeze anything.”
“You know, my idea wasn't really that weird,” Zuko started to argue as he pointed outside his window for Sokka to look, “It was just the wrong results.”
Sokka watched over him with beady eyes, and then Zukko shrugged with a slight smile before sipping some hot chocolate.
Sokka turned to the direction Zuko pointed at, face paling with horror.
He sees Aang a couple buildings over with a leaf blower, successfully blowing away the snow outside of his house.
Sokka curses out loud.
Zuko laughs.
Sokka thinks it's the way Zuko smiles so wide when he laughs that's the best moment.
Yet, if it's one of the most peaceful things he's ever felt in a while, he'd deny it to God Himself.
But, no way could he delude anyone in thinking all this could stay forever. After all, the snow would melt from the blowtorch’s fiery nature but it'll just grow back harsher and more dangerous. Perhaps that's what Sokka will do. Melt to the flamethrower’s touch and wait till his own nature regrows itself more stronger and powerful. With fire bears ice, but with neither, nature must choose its own course. To destroy or to heal. Which is which? The ice that could kill or the fire that could thaw out the cold?