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“Sokka?”
“Yeah, babe?” Sokka hums from where he’s reading over a scroll in bed, eyes trained on the parchment.
It’s early morning and Sokka’s getting some work done as Zuko gets ready for the day, the warm, sweet spring breeze wafting through the open windows of their bedroom. Sokka loves mornings like this—where he gets to just sit, drink tea, and not-so-secretly watch his boyfriend as he gets ready.
Zuko stands in front of his mirror in his full Fire Lord regalia, running a hand over his long, dark hair.
“Do you think I look like my father?”
Sokka furrows his eyebrows, wondering where the sudden question came from. He places his scroll on his bedside table and peels the silk sheets off of himself, walking across the room and over to Zuko. Sokka snakes his hands around Zuko’s middle and hugs him from behind before resting his chin on Zuko’s shoulder.
“You look nothing like him,” Sokka says, voice calm but assured as he looks at Zuko through the mirror. “I promise.”
Zuko sighs out through his nose, jaw clenched and expression hard-set, and Sokka can tell Zuko doesn’t believe him. Zuko doesn’t say anything more, just rests his hands over where Sokka’s are resting on his stomach.
“…Do you think that you do?” Sokka asks gently, watching Zuko’s expression in the mirror for any small shifts, of which he catches none.
Zuko swallows, staring at himself in the mirror. “My hair’s gotten so long.”
Ah. Sokka hums in understanding, kissing Zuko’s cheek. “You can always cut it. I know it’s like, tradition or whatever—for the Fire Lord to have long hair—but fuck tradition. If you’d feel better cutting your hair, then do it.”
Zuko chews at his lip, slipping his thumb under Sokka’s palm and squeezing his hand. He shakes his head slightly. “No, I want to keep it long.”
“That’s fine, too,” Sokka responds, squeezing Zuko’s hand back. Zuko’s eyes rake over himself, a far-away glint to them. Sokka frowns and moves his hand up, tilting Zuko’s head to the right so they’re looking at each other.
“Hey,” Sokka glances from Zuko’s eyes down to his lips before pressing a quick kiss to them, running a thumb over the man’s scarred cheek. “You look nothing like him, baby.”
Zuko scans Sokka’s face with his eyes, exhaling softly, and Sokka can feel it on his skin.
Zuko turns back to the mirror and Sokka’s hand falls to rest on Zuko’s stomach again. Sokka places his chin back on Zuko’s shoulder, squeezing his middle gently.
“I mean, without the scar… I’d look just like him,” Zuko says quietly, clenching his fists by his side.
Sokka frowns and moves away from Zuko, circling him to stand between him and the mirror. Zuko’s eyes flick from the mirror to Sokka as he purses his lips.
“You know what I see when I see you?” Sokka starts, lifting a hand up to cup the scarred side of Zuko’s face.
“Sokka—” Zuko tries to look away but Sokka moves his face back, trying to catch Zuko’s eye.
“I see a stubborn hothead who barely thinks things through and hates people despite people-ing being his literal job,” Sokka starts, Zuko finally looking at him and huffing a small laugh. “I see someone who hates sea prunes but always stomachs them because I love them. I see a kind, stupidly selfless, thoughtful, loving, considerate man.”
Zuko purses his lips in a smile, gold eyes looking into Sokka’s blue as he rests his hands on Sokka’s waist.
Sokka smiles back, rubbing his thumb against the edge of Zuko’s scar. “I’ve never looked at you and thought ‘Ozai’. I have never once looked at you and been scared, Zuko.”
Zuko’s eyes widen slightly as he inhales, blinking through the exhale.
“Even if you did look like him—which you don’t—it wouldn’t matter, because you’re everything he’s not. But seriously, long hair, short hair, scar, no scar—you don’t look anything like him. Okay?” Sokka asks, raising his eyebrows with the question.
Zuko sighs, gaze shifting over to the mirror as he reaches up to run his fingers over his hair. “But every time I look in the mirror… I just see him.”
Sokka hums, lips pursed and eyebrows knit together in thought. Zuko’s hair has finally grown past his shoulders, and Sokka supposes with the length and the Fire Lord’s crown in his hair, it’s hard for Zuko to see anything but Ozai.
“C’mere,” Sokka grabs Zuko’s hand, dragging him to the bed and sitting him down. Sokka sits beside him and faces him, sitting criss-cross. He grabs a section of Zuko’s hair, combing through the soft strands with his fingers.
“…What’re you doing?” Zuko asks carefully.
“Giving you a braid,” Sokka says, tongue stuck out as he starts braiding. “So every time you look in the mirror, you’ll see the man I’m so hopelessly in love with instead of Ozai. You’ll see you how I see you.”
Zuko doesn’t say anything, hands fisting into his robes on his lap.
Sokka pauses, moving to look at Zuko’s face. “Is that okay?”
Zuko nods quickly. “Yeah,” His voice cracks slightly and he clears his throat. “Yeah, that’s… thank you.”
“Course, baby,” Sokka smiles, moving back to his original spot and continuing the braid.
Sokka tucks some of Zuko’s hair behind his ear so Sokka can see the man’s face a bit better, met with Zuko’s soft smile.
“I braided Katara’s hair every day when we were on the road—in the sky?—with Aang. It’s nice when I get to braid yours,” Sokka hums.
“Do they mean anything? The braids?” Zuko asks as Sokka weaves his hair together.
“They represent connection to our culture and honoring our ancestors. Y’know, with the Fire Nation, not a lot of our cultural traditions stayed the same, or stayed at all. But hair is a big source of pride for people from the Water Tribes, and wearing our hair in braids shows we survived the war, I guess. Shows that we kept living and that our culture wasn’t destroyed,” Sokka says as he finishes up the braid.
Zuko hums thoughtfully as Sokka undoes his own hair tie to use on Zuko’s hair.
“In the Fire Nation, your hair is your honor. That’s why I don’t want to cut it,” Zuko says as Sokka finishes tying off Zuko’s hair.
“Of course, it shows how far you’ve come. And now it shows that you’re an honorary member of the Water Tribes,” Sokka smiles as Zuko gently feels for the braid, running his fingers down it. He looks over at Sokka with a smile, reaching out and touching Sokka’s own two braids framing his face.
“I like learning about your culture,” Zuko replies, cocking his head slightly. He smiles at Sokka like he’s the entire world.
“I like teaching you about it. You look very pretty,” Sokka smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to Zuko’s cheek. Zuko moves his head to catch Sokka’s lips on his own, deepening it as his hands come up to rest behind Sokka’s neck.
Zuko pulls away after a moment, resting their foreheads together and closing his eyes. He takes a small breath and Sokka can feel it on his skin.
“Thank you,” Zuko says softly.
Sokka smiles, moving a hand to caress Zuko’s scar. “Anytime.”