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Sokka was never one to sit down and just… sit.
It wasn’t that he didn’t have the ability to, but rather he’d rather not. After all, he had other things to do. He needed to clean his workshop, present his new schematic to the Board, and—
“Plan your next date with Zuko?” Katara teased over Sokka’s shoulder as he planned out his week.
Sokka did not jump. He warns you to not listen to Katara.
“Wha- no!” his head swiveled to look at his sister.
“Oh,” Katara tapped a finger to her chin, “I forgot. Plan your next hangout with Zuko.”
Uncomfortable heat made its way up Sokka’s neck. “He’s the one who insists we’re alone!”
Shit.
Katara’s eyes widened. “Wait, can you give me an example of how it usually goes?”
Sokka unfortunately was not in the right mind then, so he agreed.
You would too if your sister was looming over your shoulder the way Katara was!
Standing up, he leaned on the backrest of his chair. “Hey Zuko,” he Sokka’d, “You free tomorrow?”
He turned around and faced ‘Sokka’. “Hm,” Sokka rubbed his chin incredibly Zuko-ey. “I believe so. Why?”
Sokka then went back into his Sokka position, “Well, I was thinking we could go out. You up for it?”
He straightened his posture, cleared his throat, and somehow made himself sound like a different person. “Sure. Just us?”
He watched Katara out of the corner of his eye, she was stifling a laugh.
“Sure Zuko, Katara’s hair-loopies would get stuck on my sword anyways,” Sokka shrugged.
Then, he turned to Katara and bowed. She clapped politely, “I think this was your best one yet.”
Instead of answering, he just stared at Katara expectantly.
“I’m not doing this. I’m leaving. This is your problem.”
Sokka sat back down. “Now go.”
The door shut behind her—
Almost.
“Fuck you,” he grumbled after closing the door properly.
— — —
Zuko was tired. After all, hours of listening to the same troop plan relayed to him seven times each with the same buzzwords does wear one out.
Nevertheless, when the messenger arrived, he wasn’t in as bad of a mood as he was earlier.
“Fire Lord Zuko,” the messenger greeted, “You’ve gotten a message.”
He assumed so, seeing how the messenger was there. Yet he digressed.
“Continue,” he said with a flick of his hand. To his left advanced a servant with more grapes.
He was getting really fucking tired of grapes.
“Heya Zuko!” The messenger said after clearing his throat, “I was wondering if you’d want to discuss plans over dinner. Sokka out.”
A servant who was previously busy with moping the tiles snorted. “Who ends a message to the Fire Lord with Sokka out?”
Zuko suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “Tell Sokka I said I’d love to.” Was that too obvious?
The messenger nodded and left.
— — —
He lay on the grass waiting for Zuko alongside the turtleducks.
“I bet you guys don’t have yearning crushes on one of your closest friends,” Sokka sighed.
The turtleduck did not have a reply.
Sokka smirked. “Coward.”
The quack that then came sounded a lot like turtleduck for hypocrite.
Sokka stood up. “Hey!” he exclaimed, pointing down at the perpetrator in question, “You’re the real hypocrite here!”
“Maybe don’t insult the local pond life,” Zuko teased, arms crossed.
Sokka whipped around, “When did you get here exactly?”
Zuko shrugged, trying to hide his smile—and failing. “Few seconds ago. Just early enough to hear you commit harassment towards my closest advisors.”
Sokka flushed for a second before bowing flamboyantly. “Well now that you’re here, shall we?”
Zuko grinned, copying Sokka’s gesture but more less chalantly. “We shall.”
— — —
Zuko was treated to yet another Sokka Special, but that happened so often that the only special thing about it was that it was cooked by someone he knew personally.
“You know, maybe I should visit the Northern Water Tribe again,” Zuko joked.
Sokka snorted. “They’d kill you.”
Zuko would never admit it, but he was horrified of whoever could have raised the duo of Katara and Sokka. In fact, the mere notion of their Granny struck fear in every pore.
“I don’t doubt it,” Zuko chuckled instead of spilling all of that.
“After all,” Sokka spread his hands, “We are well-versed in the art of-”
“The boomerang?” Zuko deadpanned.
Sokka jumped in excitement, “Yes! See? We’re connected!”
The tips of Zuko’s ears were washed over with pink, he could tell.
“Yes,” Zuko said immediately, then added, “I mean—yes. That is—connected. We are—”
He stopped talking.
“Anyways,” Sokka stood and collected both their dishes before Zuko could think of another line to mess up. “I’m stuffed, what do you want tod o next?”
“The dishes,” Zuko tried to tug the plates out of his friend’s hands.
Sokka rolled his eyes and placed the dishes away with a “We’ll do them later.”
And so they walked out of the room with no plans.
Zuko had one, though.
— — —
“Shopping,” Sokka announced after half an hour of talking about everything and nothing with Xuko.
“Shopping?”
Sokka turned to face Zuko. They were laying on the grass of the garden surrounding the palace despite the odd looks. “Let’s go shopping.”
“My treat?” Zuko guessed deadpannedly.
Sokka clutched his chest. “Of course, since you asked so nicely.”
Zuko sighed. Sokka knew he wasn’t mad though.
He probably wouldntve noticed if he was, with how much Zuko’s eyes engrossed Sokka.
“…we go?”
Sokka blinked. “What?”
“I said, ‘Sure Sokka. But where would we go?” Zuko grinned at Sokka’s expression, which must’ve looked like the visual equivalent of perplexity.
Zuko’s grin didn’t fade.
That was the problem.
Sokka stared at him for an uncomfortably long moment. “That’s not a real answer.”
“It’s a start,” Zuko said.
“That’s not—no. No it’s not.”
Zuko pushed himself up onto his elbows in the grass. “You suggested shopping.”
“I suggested a locationless concept,” Sokka corrected immediately. “That’s different.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
Zuko tilted his head slightly. “We could go to the city market.”
Sokka hesitated. That was suspiciously normal.
“…why are you making that face?” he asked.
“I’m not making a face,” Zuko refuted.
“You are absolutely making a face.”
Zuko stood up, brushing grass off his sleeves. “I just thought you’d like it.”
Sokka squinted. “Why would I like it?”
Zuko opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then, carefully, Zuko smiled, “You like… things?” He said that as if deciding it in the moment.
“That is not helpful.”
“I’m aware.”
Ugh. Zuko’s winning.
Sokka slowly got up too, narrowing his eyes like he was inspecting a crime scene. “This feels like a trap.”
“It’s shopping.”
“That’s what they say before you become the consequences of bad decisions.”
Zuko stared at him. “…what does that even mean?”
“It means I’ve learned things.”
“That’s concerning.”
Sokka bowed. “Thank you.”
They started walking anyway.
— — —
At the spice stall, Sokka leaned in too far.
That was the third problem.
Zuko didn’t move away. That was the fourth.
“These are for stews,” Sokka said quickly, picking up a jar. “Not that I make stews. I could. Hypothetically. If I had time. Which I don’t.”
“You are defending stew-making very intensely,” Zuko observed.
“I’m defending cooking as a concept.”
“That’s admirable.”
Sokka froze slightly. Zuko said things like that too easily. Like he didn’t know what they did to people.
He probably didn’t.
Zuko picked up another jar, studying it. “This one smells like smoke.”
“That’s because it’s smoked salt.”
“That seems unnecessary.”
“It’s flavor, Zuko.”
Zuko looked at him. “You’re passionate about salt.”
“I’m passionate about survival.”
Zuko gaped. “What?”
— — —
They moved on before Sokka could say something stupid.
Which meant he said something stupid later instead. Of course.
A fabric stall had a row of scarves hung in sunlight, shifting colors like water. Sokka stopped without thinking.
Zuko stopped too.
“You’d look ridiculous in those,” Sokka said immediately.
Zuko looked at him. “That sounded like an insult.”
“It was an observation.”
Zuko stepped closer to the stall. “Which one would I look the least ridiculous in?”
Sokka opened his mouth. Closed it.
That was the problem with Zuko asking questions like a normal person. It made Sokka’s brain stop cooperating.
“That one,” Sokka said finally, grabbing a deep red scarf before he could think better of it.
Zuko took it.
Their fingers brushed for half a second.
Sokka’s entire body forgot what it was doing.
Zuko immediately dropped it.
“…red suits you,” Sokka said too quickly.
Zuko’s eyes flicked up while picking the scarf up. “Does it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Sokka’s brain briefly considered jumping into the ocean.
“Because,” Sokka said, voice cracking slightly, “it does.”
Zuko nodded slowly before looking at the vendor. “I’ll take it.”
— — —
Once he had left the stall, Zuko had put on the scarf because—as he put it—it was easier than holding it.
Sokka was not watching him as he put it on.
Of course not.
— — —
They ended up near the edge of the market where the noise softened.
Sokka exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for an hour. “So,” he said, trying for normal. “We shopped.”
“We did.”
“That was… successful.”
Zuko looked at him. “I think so,” he said.
Sokka frowned. “You sound unsure.”
“I am unsure.”
“About shopping?”
Zuko paused and met Sokka’s eyes.
For once, he didn’t answer immediately. The scarf around his neck moved slightly in the wind.
“I think,” Zuko said carefully, “I would like to do it again.”
Sokka’s throat went dry.
“That’s… not a shopping answer,” he managed.
“No,” he said. “It isn’t… I think.”
Then Sokka, because he is Sokka, blurted, “Okay. But next time I pick the spices again.”
Zuko’s smile came slower this time.
“I was hoping you would.”
— — —
Sokka stared at the ceiling of his room at night.
In his pillow, he screamed. “What does that even fucking mean?”
— — —
Walking silently, Zuko strolled around the halls of the palace.
A servant held grapes and made her way towards Zuko. His heart caught in his throat as he suppressed the urge to scream and run away.
“Good night,” the servant greeted.
“Hello,” Zuko swallowed.
“Would you like some grapes?”
“Perhaps later.”
Glumly, the servant nodded.
As Zuko watched the grapes make their way towards the kitchen menacingly, he wondered.
What did I even mean?
But that thought held almost no weight compared to the next:
Is this my divine punishment for all the cabbages we wasted?