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The world was only a little wobbly around him as Sokka made his way through the crowd gathered on the vast balcony of the Fire Nation’s palace. The courtyard below served as a stage for dancers and the huge paper dragon carried by a dozen people to perform their… Well, their dances, and their tricks, and their fire bending shapes and things that they did. It was actually very fun to watch them, but now that Sokka was stuffed with spicy steamed buns and chili pepper infused beer, the swerving shapes and fast-moving people cartwheeling around only made him feel like the world was spinning faster and faster.
With a shake of his head that he immediately regretted, Sokka pushed himself off the balcony’s wooden railing and decided to find some of his friends to discuss the performance below with. On the farthest corner of the balcony he saw a glimpse of Aang and Katara, but they were clearly in the sort of lovey-dovey mood that made it impossible to be around them without feeling like you had to throw up from their sweetness towards each other – and throwing up was something Sokka was trying very hard not to be doing right now.
Then he spotted him, of course. The Fire Lord himself, his friend Zuko, who stood closer to the center of the balcony railing and watched over the performance, willfully ignoring the line gathered around him that waited their turn of addressing him personally. Zuko looked like a great big bonfire in his royal celebratory outfit, a bonfire made of gold and black silk. His usual royal garb was nothing to scoff at, of course, but the intricately embroidered tiger-armadillos and dragons that weaved around his long robes and bellowing sleeves were totally mesmerizing. It seemed as though with every of Zuko’s steps the golden animals danced on the black silk, celebrating the solstice with the rest of them.
Sokka was so mesmerized, in fact, that he almost stumbled over some noble lady’s red dress and had to apologize to her at the same time as his feet desperately tried to find secure footing on the floor – and that was a difficult task even without trying to be polite to snooty rich Fire Nation folks. A glass of peppery beer that he was still holding in his hand swerved with his maneuver, and a considerable splash of the beverage soaked into the front of his vest.
With a disgruntled hiss, Sokka shoved the glass into some poor servant’s hands and tried to wipe the stain off with a hand, somehow. If only he were a beer bender! This was his best outfit, too, some deep blue velvet vest with a white trim, wolf-bear fang necklace, light blue shoulder-high fingerless gloves. He wanted to look good! Everybody looked insanely good at the palace on a regular Tuesday, the Fire Nation people really cleaned up well, but on a celebration like this? Even in his best outfit Sokka felt like a total salmon-rat next to most of the noble guests around him. The feeling only grew stronger when he looked up from what he was doing and saw Zuko offer him a pristine white handkerchief.
“Much appreciated, your Royal Hotness,” Sokka grinned at his friend as he accepted the soft piece of fabric and immediately began to try and soak up as much of the beer from his poor vest with it. He felt awkward about the soggy handkerchief when he was done, unsure of how rude it would be to return it back to Zuko, and decided to just put it into his pants’ pocket out of harm’s way.
“Anything for honored guests,” Zuko replied with a benevolent nod, his hands returning into his bellowing sleeves joined over his abdomen.
Now that Sokka was standing close to him without a sea of people between them, he noticed that the Fire Lord sported red streaks of paint on his face. There was a streak on his lower eyelid, and then a few more under his ‘good’ eye radiating from the inner corner of it, imitating sun beams. Or perhaps they were feathers of fire birds of paradise? Or… something else like that? There was a small red sun right above the center of his eyebrows, too – or… the center between one eyebrow and the spot where the other eyebrow would be. Or… Used to be. Damn, thinking about small details was proving to be difficult with so much spicy beer sloshing around in Sokka’s head…
“Are you okay, Sokka?” Zuko asked him, genuine concern ringing in his voice. His face took on this innocent, open expression, one that was rare to see on his normally stoic features.
“Oh yeah, yeah,” Sokka assured his friend with a few nods. The nods were too fast for his liking, churning his stomach and making his fingers tingle. His cheeks must’ve been as red as the red paint that was carefully outlining Zuko’s bottom lip, too, now that he noticed. “I was just admiring His Majesty’s beautiful face!”
“So you keep calling it,” Zuko smiled almost timidly. Now that was an exceedingly rare expression to see. Sokka felt almost honored that he caused it to appear!
“You know you have a beautiful face,” Sokka waved away with a hand, such a fact totally obvious to him. It was surely obvious to everyone. “It’s all in the bone structure,” Sokka winked at him, leaning forward to look at him from under secretively.
Zuko released an awkward chuckle mixed with a sigh, and looked away when he admitted:
“Half of it could probably be called that.”
Sokka didn’t like that answer. He frowned, and squinted his eyes at Zuko until the Fire Lord looked back at him. Their eyes met, and Sokka stepped a bit closer. He raised a hand and pressed his fingertips against the scarred skin of Zuko’s face, leading some of the longer hair away from that side of his face. He wanted to say something about how both his sides looked equally as good, or how it would’ve been nice if the pretty red paint extended over to the scarred side as well, or maybe if it was gold on that side instead. He wanted to say all that, and maybe make some other observations. But he didn’t. Because as soon as his fingertips pressed against Zuko’s face…
The music stopped.
The paper dragon in the courtyard looked up at them.
A wave of gasps washed over the crowd of nobles surrounding them.
Then all fell to silence.
Even cricket-frogs stopped chirping, and the firefly-butterflies froze in the air.
Or at least it felt that way, and it felt like it slowed down time itself.
Sokka’s eyes widened, his every muscle stiffened, his breath stuck in his throat.
Zuko’s brow twitched up above his eye, but then his gaze softened and he looked at Sokka with that amused, haughty sort of air to him that was both annoying and endearing at the same time. Sokka thickly gulped, and said in the quietest whisper he could muster:
“I’m sensing I just committed a crime.”
Zuko stated matter-of-factly in a whisper just as quiet destined for no one but Sokka, an amused spark never leaving the gold of his eyes:
“You’re not supposed to touch the Fire Lord.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“So is everyone just gonna… keep staring?”
“Only if you keep touching me.”
“That makes sense.”
“I don’t mind it, though,” Zuko smirked, his voice velvety, his eyelashes lowering down over his eye.
“The staring?” Sokka tried to clarify, his voice breaking into something embarrassingly high-pitched as he looked down at his hand still pressed against Zuko’s scarred cheek.
“You touching me,” Zuko replied, causing Sokka to finally unfreeze from his spot and withdraw his hand. Zuko trailed it with a look that was almost longing, but Sokka was certain the beer was making him see things.
The Fire Lord raised a hand and charmingly smiled at the crowd gathered, then wove the hand in the air to send a streak of fire over towards the courtyard to encourage the guests to look down at the show instead. The musicians picked up where they left off before Sokka committed the social crime of touching his friend; the paper dragon resumed its prance around the center of the courtyard again; the party seemed to have returned back to life as if nothing happened. Sokka exhaled in relief, feeling lightheaded and all of a sudden hungry. He should eat something – and maybe have more beer.
“Spring dragons!” Zuko cried out, dragging Sokka out of his introspection, and when he looked up at the Fire Lord he saw that the words were directed at the musicians. The conductor nodded and started a different melody, the kind that was upbeat and sent your feet tapping just by being the way that it was.
Zuko turned to look at him, directly at Sokka and not at some dignitary behind him, and smiled. The smile was one-sided and energetic, the kind he mostly ever saw when Zuko was sparring with someone exciting, someone that matched his skill. Zuko smiled at him like that too, sometimes, when they were having their sword bending duels. And now… he was smiling at him the same way, extending a hand for Sokka to take.
“Uh-hm,” Sokka stammered, attempting to hide his head between his shoulders as he stared down at the offered hand. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to touch you?”
“Unless we danced,” Zuko laughed, and lunged forward to grab his hand himself. He dragged him further into the center of the balcony, people around them starting to split into groups and pairs to dance as well. “Be my spring dragon, Sokka,” Zuko asked, and Sokka didn’t feel like saying no.
“I don’t know how,” he laughed. “But I’ll try!”
“You’ve a capable body,” Zuko assured him as he brought him closer, their chests barely an inch apart, their noses a finger’s length away from each other. Sokka felt lost in those gold eyes, challenge filling his chest with flames, a wolfish grin growing on his face. Zuko’s severe voice offered: “Just follow my lead.”
It wasn’t his best performance at first. The dance wasn’t anything like they danced at the Southern Water Tribe festivals at all. It was more flowy and performative, with wrists and ankles and hips doing most of the work. Sokka’s feet barely left the floor, only slid along the polished wood. Zuko’s flowing robes emphasized the flexibility of his limbs, the gentle sway of his long hair, the rhythmic movements of his body. It was almost hard to concentrate, as taken as Sokka was with the sight of gold and black silk following the dance moves of Zuko’s well-built body.
But once Sokka imagined himself a dragon… It all went much better. He was quick, he was playful, he was teasing and powerful. He had nothing to prove to anyone, he had nothing to be embarrassed about – he was a dragon, and such things were unknown to him. He was sure he almost tried growling like a dragon – or were they more the roaring type? – during a particularly fun maneuver that sent his back sliding over Zuko’s as his friend bent down to let him. Once they both rose to their feet and their wrists touched to start the walking-around-the-same-spot-staring-at-each-other part, Sokka felt so flushed and exhilarated that he almost felt like grabbing the grand ol’ Fire Lord by his face with both hands and just kissing it all over.
Aang flew into the crowd, licks of fire and air all round him that he was bending making him look more like a dragon than Sokka felt. Katara soon followed, and the two inserted themselves into Zuko’s and his dance to share it all together. Zuko seemed unfazed, immediately accepting Aang’s presense and swerving around him to come and slide his forearm against Katara’s that followed his lead and maneuvered past him to dance with Sokka. Her happy, beaming face slipped into confusion when she locked her eyes with Sokka’s, and he immediately realized that he had a sour look on his face. He fixed it right away, putting on the unserious smirk he normally sported, and dancing with his sister like nothing was ever wrong. His eyes, however, wondered over to the Fire Lord that exchanged a few moves with Aang enhanced by fire bending. Why did he feel so sad when he looked at him?
…With a glass of water in his hand, ice cubes so kindly provided by his sister floating in it, Sokka took another sip and looked down at the courtyard. The celebration was over. Dawn was about to break over the horizon, the paper lanterns hung up over the balcony providing the only light at this darkest point of night. The paper dragon and the dancers were long gone, now only servants scuttled around the courtyard picking up confetti and cleaning away spots of black soot. It was kind of… peaceful. Or maybe he was just tired. And too full of spicy steamed buns…
Sokka heard rustling of fabric and looked back over his shoulder to see Zuko walk up to him and settle by the railing alongside him. Zuko sighed heavily and cracked his neck, both his hands finding the wooden railing. Now that Sokka thought about it, those robes probably weighted a ton.
“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?” his friend asked him, and Sokka turned around to lean against the railing with the small of his back, setting the glass away.
“I sure did! His Flaming Highness throws one hell of a party,” he grinned, nudging his friend under the ribs now that nobody was here to gasp at a small touch between friends.
“I didn’t plan it myself. I was just the centerpiece,” Zuko replied sternly, his eyes gazing out over the horizon, and that same rare timidity returning to his voice. Sokka chuckled and shook his head before he looked at Zuko and simply said:
“There’s nothing ‘just’ about you.”
“Hmm,” Zuko hummed, but didn’t say anything for a while. Sokka crossed his arms on his chest and thought that he should say something about how much he loved their dance, but the Fire Lord was quicker. Zuko finally turned his face to look him in the eye and asked: “What do you usually do for the summer solstice at the Southern Pole?”
“You know, the usual stuff,” Sokka rolled his eyes, in truth reminiscing about the details fondly despite his childishly whiny tone. “Roast a whole walrus-whale to share with everyone, dance the night away around the roast, drink way too much berry wine, eat way too much fatty meat, and then kiss someone as the dawn breaks. It’s pretty fun. You should come next year.”
He shrugged, and looked at Zuko kindly. Looking at him like this, with pretty red paint on his face depicting licks of fire, with his gold crown, with the black silk and gold embroidery robes, Sokka imagined him among the snow and ice of the Pole and found the image funny. Zuko would’ve been so out of place looking like that there! Maybe—
“Mn!” Sokka only managed to let out of his throat, his eyes widened. Zuko erased the distance between them and kissed him, just like that. As he did, first rays of the sun reached the gold of his crown and his pauldrons, gleaming so bright Sokka felt the need to shut his eyes. He did, and when he did he got only more aware of his body. Of the way his arms squeezed around each other tighter still crossed over his chest. Of the way his neck tensed, and his shoulders rose in surprise. Of the way his ankles were crossed way too casually for what was happening.
Most of all, he was aware of Zuko’s warm and soft lips pressed against his so nicely. He never considered what Zuko would be like to kiss before. He always assumed the lips would be firm, or chapped, or just… not like that. Not so nice. Why didn't he think it would be so nice?
Zuko’s lips left his just as suddenly as they found them, and it took Sokka a few heartbeats – very loud ones – to open his eyes and find Zuko’s face with his unfocused gaze. He wasn’t sure what to think. He looked nice – but that’s not something he should be thinking about. He should, uhm… He should think about… Ehm…
“Is it like that?”
“Uh-hm…” Sokka swallowed the knot in his throat, and scratched the back of his neck with an unsteady hand. What was the question?
Zuko looked him in the eye, setting Sokka’s heart to race even faster, and asked:
“You said you kiss someone as the dawn breaks, did you not?”
Sokka looked back over his shoulder to look at the sun like an idiot, as if to check that it was really there. It was, obviously. Then he looked back at Zuko and saw the bright orange light of dawn wash over his features, the gold of his eyes, the warm brown of his hair, and almost lost his chain of thought again. He cleared his throat before he answered, his eyes darting everywhere only not to settle on Zuko:
“Yeah! Yeah. Pretty much just like that. Only usually you both just smell like walrus-whale. You smell a lot better.”
“I smell?”
“No!” Sokka cut his hand in the air to emphasize the panic of his answer, and finally looked at Zuko when he explained: “Your scent, it’s more like… Tea, and plumbs, and roast ginger. Not like walrus-whale at all.”
Zuko looked at him for a while without saying anything, only his smile grew less subtle by the second. Sokka found himself unfazed by being studied under an attentive gaze like that. He didn’t say anything wrong, it was all true, and as a very good hunter he had a superb nose, you know.
“I enjoyed it,” Sokka said with confidence finally returning to him. He slid over the railing to come and lean against it a little closer to Zuko, their faces only a hand’s length apart. “As I enjoyed being your spring dragon. I didn’t think I would, but I did.”
“I enjoyed you being my spring dragon, too,” Zuko agreed with a slow nod, his eyes closing in affirmation. He opened them slowly, and Sokka was confident that the gaze of those intensely golden eyes brightened by new dawn lingered on his lips before it climbed up his face to settle on his eyes. He didn’t know what he wanted to do with that observation, or what to even feel about it, but he knew that it was true.
“So you don’t…” Sokka began hesitantly before he cleared his throat and started over, trying to look taller and sound more mature. “You don’t have any celebrations here where you kiss someone?”
“We don’t usually wait all year to do that,” Zuko answered him in something that sounded almost like a purr.
“Oh?” Sokka asked stupidly and internally smacked his own head for that. Now was not the time to look like an idiot! He looked down to pretend to smooth out a wrinkle on his vest, and then looked back up at Zuko to ask him: “What’s that like?”
Before he even finished speaking, Zuko already cleared the distance between them to kiss him again. Sokka took in a sharp breath and watched Zuko’s eyes slowly close. He shut his own as well, and demanded his body to relax. Everything was fine – better than fine. It was exciting, and fun, and new, but also not new because it was Zuko.
Not wanting to seem completely lame, Sokka tilted his head and parted his lips to capture Zuko’s painted bottom lip between them. He unfolded his arms and placed his hands on Zuko’s upper arms. Despite the layers of silk, he felt the shapes of his strong muscles shift and tense and relax as Zuko reached for Sokka’s face with his hands. It was his turn to get his face touched, then?
It was totally fine by him.
The Fire Lord could touch him all he wanted.