Archive of Our Own

The mask was a mistake.

Zuko cursed himself for his poor planning. Sure, the thick, wooden theater prop had looked mysterious and intimidating in his bedroom mirror, but now it was crushing his nose and pinching his jaw and suffocating him with his own hot breath. He couldn’t very well turn back now to pick out a new disguise, nor could he discard the mask and confront General Zhao as himself. Zuko was stuck the consequences of his own miscalculations, as usual.

Although he hadn’t been able to locate the Fire Nation unit he was looking for, he was easily able to track down the Avatar’s flying bison. For someone with so many enemies, the Avatar was obscenely bad at hiding. Sometimes it felt to Zuko like the little boy was taunting him, flying so close so often and then slipping just out of his grasp every time. But based on his few encounters with the boy, Zuko was confident in guessing that their frequent run-ins were not the result of malicious strategy but rather really, really dumb luck.

He saw the bison now, as he peered out between the trees through the narrow holes of the stupid mask. The animal was laying on its stomach in the middle of a raised stone temple, surrounded by cracked marble columns. Zuko could only make out one body laying still on the bison’s back. Did that mean the Avatar had already been captured? No matter; surely whichever unlucky Water Tribe sibling had been left behind would be willing to point Zuko in the right direction if given enough incentive.

Zuko remembered the dual dao swords strapped to his back. He prayed they wouldn’t draw blood tonight.

The bigger obstacle in his way was the giant creature under the unmoving body. Animals didn’t typically like Zuko, which he supposed was fair enough, but he didn’t want to find out the hard way that the sky bison didn’t share the Air Nomads’ vegetarian diet.

Zuko searched the shrubbery around him. Growing on one tree nearby were ripe, fat oranges. A little small for the beast, but they would have to do. Zuko picked as many as he could hold in his arms and then began to make his way up the hill toward the Avatar’s companions. As he got closer, he realized the bison must be sleeping just like the person on its back; its eyes were shut tight, and its stomach rose and fell with a uniform rhythm.

Zuko was at the peak of the hill when he heard a rustling sound. He froze, whipping his head around to find the source of the sound.

“Rrrrt?”

The curious chirp came from the Avatar’s big-eared lemur, which was now sitting between Zuko and the bison, staring up at Zuko with disturbingly wide eyes.

Zuko cursed himself for forgetting about the animal. The lemur had outsmarted a whole team of Fire Sages back at Roku’s temple; it was probably highly intelligent. Why else would the Avatar keep it around?

“Shhh,” Zuko said, as softly as he could. He didn’t want to risk waking up the sleeping body on the bison, or prematurely identifying himself if he did.

Wordlessly, Zuko held out one of the oranges. The lemur tilted its head in response, but it didn’t move. They stood at a standstill for a few moments as the lemur regarded him.

Zuko groaned internally. To come all this way only to be thwarted by the Avatar’s pet? No, he wouldn’t allow it. He pulled off one of his gloves – something he swore he wouldn’t do, but who would recognize him by his hand anyway? – and began to peel off the skin of the orange. The lemur sniffed hopefully at the air. Balancing the rest of the oranges against his chest with the crooks of his elbows, Zuko dropped the rind and broke open the orange. He separated one wedge and, hoping luck would be on his side for once, tossed the slice to the lemur.

The animal hopped up to catch the slice and swallowed it down in one motion. It blinked, and purred contentedly, and then it bolted toward Zuko.

Zuko flinched, but the lemur just grabbed the rest of the peeled orange out of Zuko’s hand and skittered off, chirping happily.

“Grrr.”

It was the sky bison. Apparently having heard the lemur, the bison’s brown eyes had flicked open, and it was now staring menacingly down at Zuko with its giant teeth bared. Zuko realized with relief that the sleeping body on the animal’s back was probably preventing it from full-on attacking Zuko like it might have wished to. The bison growled again, lifting its head.

“Shhh,” Zuko said again. He held out one of the remaining oranges so the bison could see it. “See? Food,” he whispered, so quietly the bison could probably barely hear him.

The animal looked from Zuko to the fruit suspiciously, but it didn’t growl again. Zuko took that as his opportunity to inch forward, still staying a few feet away, still offering the orange with an outstretched hand. When the bison didn’t react, Zuko got closer, kneeling so he could place the orange just in front of the bison’s mouth and then snap his arm back.

The bison sniffed at the offering. Then, a giant tongue appeared from its fuzzy snout and lapped the orange up whole. The fruit was gone.

The bison made another sound, but Zuko thought this one seemed a little more expectant than threatening. “Here,” he said, grabbing another orange and setting it in front of the animal’s mouth. When that one was gone, Zuko felt confident enough to approach again and lay out all the oranges he had left on the ground. The bison ate those too, and then it lowed once more, eyeing Zuko hopefully.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko whispered. “I don’t have any more.”

The bison let out a resigned sigh and closed its eyes again.

That had been much simpler than Zuko expected. Stepping around the placated bison, he approached its side to see who the Avatar had left behind.

It was the Water Tribe boy. Zuko knew it had to be him, although the quivering body before him looked almost nothing like the persistent fighter that Zuko thought of so frequently (but not too frequently – it was a completely appropriate amount of thinking for someone studying the Avatar and his companions). Zuko knew the Avatar’s non-bending friend to be scrappy, quick, and suave. He was the kind of handsome that would have made girls back in the Fire Nation stop and stare; the kind that always seemed to thread insecurity and discomfort and embarrassment together into a knot at the pit of Zuko’s stomach.

But the boy Zuko saw now was nothing like the one from Zuko’s imaginings. He was shaking violently, bundled up in a fur-lined sleeping bag. Beads of sweat were dripping from his flushed forehead, and even in his sleep he was moaning pitifully. He appeared to be very, very sick.

The first emotion Zuko felt was concern, but he squashed it down. Sickness was weakness; it would make it easier to subdue the boy.

Sokka, Zuko’s brain provided. That was the boy’s name.

With featherlight, silent steps, Zuko tiptoed closer until he was at the toe of the sleeping bag. He unsheathed his swords as quietly as possible – though they still let out a traitorous swish as they left his back – and pulled them apart. Then, assuming the most intimidating posture he could muster, he extended one sword so that it was just an inch away from Sokka’s throat.

“Where is the Avatar?”

Zuko said it in the deepest, most princely baritone that his voice was capable of. Sokka’s eyes fluttered open and focused on Zuko, not with anger or fear, but with hazy need.

“Water,” Sokka rasped, in a voice unlike Zuko had ever heard come from the boy.

Water? That wasn’t an answer. Where was his sense of self-preservation? Was this some sort of mind game? If so, it wasn’t going to work. Zuko had been manipulated too many times, and he wasn’t going to fall into another one of the Avatar’s traps.

“I know you know where he is. Tell me!”

“I d-don’t k-know who that is,” Sokka said between coughs. “Water. Please.”

Zuko scowled behind the mask. “Don’t lie to me. I know he’s nearby.”

“Who?” Sokka asked, appearing to be genuinely confused.

“The Avatar!” Zuko shouted.

“F-friend of yours?”

Zuko resisted the urge to put actual pressure on his sword, which was still hovering just above Sokka’s neck. “He’s a friend of yours, and you’re going to tell me where he is or else!”

Sokka flinched at Zuko’s words, and his face grew more desperate. “Sorry. C-can’t help you,” he rasped. “Please. Water. I’ll do anything you want.”

Zuko clenched his teeth with frustration. This was getting him nowhere. Was it possible that Sokka really meant what he said? That he didn’t understand what Zuko was talking about? Zuko had heard of extremely high fevers having that effect, but he’d never seen it in real life before. Zuko wondered whether he really should go get the boy some water. Sure, his mission was the Avatar, but he wasn’t going to get any information if Sokka was too delirious to help him. Besides, maybe if he helped the boy, he would be more willing to talk to Zuko. He might even start to trust him, or understand him, or like him…

Zuko studied the boy suspiciously. Sokka whimpered in response.

Zuko sighed. “Fine. I’ll get water. Then we’ll talk.”

“Th-thank you,” Sokka gasped, his face lighting up with gratitude. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” he babbled, before falling into another fit of coughing.

Zuko reached up a hand to…well, he didn’t know. Pat the boy on the back? Reassure him? That would be silly. There was nothing he could do, anyway. He let his hand fall and sheathed his swords.

“Stay here,” he said. As if Sokka was in any condition to run.

Zuko turned and jogged down the hill, toward a stream he’d passed by earlier. He wound between the trees for a few minutes before he found it, semi-frozen, but with enough liquid water left that it was still drinkable. Zuko knelt beside the stream, and –

Shit. How stupid could he be? He didn’t even have anything to hold the water with. What was he going to do, cup it in his hands and hope it hadn’t all dripped out from between his fingers before he made it back? Stupid, stupid, stupid. Zuko facepalmed himself, but instead of smacking skin, his palm made painful contact with the hard wood of the mask.

The mask.

That could work, Zuko thought. The mask was pretty big, especially in the forehead area, and curved enough that it would probably be able to hold about a cups-worth of water.

Zuko reached up and touched the mask’s chin, then stopped himself. Was he really considering blowing his cover? All to get the Avatar’s stupid friend some water? Was this really worth compromising his whole plan?

He thought of Sokka, shaking and scared.

Zuko sighed. He couldn’t leave the boy to die now.

Zuko slid the mask off of his face. The feeling of the cool air hitting his skin filled him with relief – he could finally breathe. Never again, he promised himself, looking at the mask with disdain. He lowered it into to the stream and filled its forehead with the clear water. As he’d guessed, the bowl-shaped upper half was able to hold a fair amount of water, and he could carry it without spilling as long as he kept the water away from the holes in the mask for his eyes and mouth.

He made his way back to Sokka, balancing the water with both of his hands, and reached the stone structure after only a few minutes. Thankfully, Sokka didn’t seem to be in any worse shape.

When Sokka saw Zuko’s unmasked face for the first time, his eyes widened. Not with fear or shock like Zuko would have expected, but with…excitement?

“Zuko,” Sokka called out hoarsely. “Zuko. I didn’t know you were here too!”

“Um, yes,” Zuko said uncomfortably. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, I brought you some water.” He stepped closer, hoping his goodwill with the bison would last.

Sokka opened his mouth to speak, but then turned his head and let out another fit of coughing. “Zuko!” he tried again, as if he hadn’t heard Zuko’s response the first time. “Zuko, over here!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Zuko was at the edge of the bison’s stomach now, but he still wasn’t close enough to bring the water to Sokka’s mouth. If he wanted to get any closer, he would have to climb onto the animal. Zuko thought that idea was extremely questionable, but he didn’t exactly have a choice. He leaned backwards against the Avatar’s sky bison, and when it didn’t react, he used his feet to awkwardly shuffle up its stomach while he held the water in his hands. That put him shoulder-to-shoulder with Sokka.

“You’re so hot, Zuko,” Sokka said dreamily.

Zuko felt himself flush. If he had been unsure that Sokka had been delusional before, this confirmed it.

“Sokka – ”

“Get it? Because you’re a firebender?” Sokka tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a wheeze. “Katara always tells me not to say that. But it’s truuuuuue….”

Zuko decided it would be best to just erase this conversation from his memory.

“Here, just drink this,” he said, holding the mask up.

“N-No thanks, I already had a bowl of t-tentacle soup.”

“What? No, it’s – ”

“Yes, I really d-drank it. No, I d-didn’t just throw it out into the s-snow…”

“Sokka.”

Zuko let go of the mask with one hand and grabbed Sokka’s chin, turning his head to face the water Zuko was offering. Sokka’s mouth fell slightly open at the touch, and he took in another shuddering breath. Their faces were close enough that Zuko could feel the tingle of Sokka’s breath against his cheek.

Zuko tried not to think of all the implications behind the placement of his hand, or stare too deeply into Sokka’s now-wide eyes, or notice the tantalizing pinkness of the tongue between his parted lips. This was all part of his mission. Zuko would do what had to be done, and he wouldn’t be distracted. “This is water. You need to drink it.”

Sokka’s eyes darted down to the mask, aware of the water for the first time. “Y-you brought me water?” He gave Zuko a knowing look. “I always knew you were n-nice. No one listened, b-but I k-knew.”

“Um, thank you,” Zuko said stiffly. Of the many adjectives people used to describe him, “nice” never seemed to come up. Then again, this didn’t really count either, seeing as Sokka was barely capable of holding a conversation, let alone analyzing the more hidden corners of Zuko’s character. “Please, just drink this.”

Sokka nodded, and then began to wriggle determinedly in his sleeping bag. Zuko didn’t fully understand what was happening until Sokka lay still again, sighing defeatedly. “I c-can’t escape. They t-trapped me here.”

Zuko felt a small smile come to his face. Obviously, Sokka wasn’t actually trapped. But it was probably for the best that he believed he was. Who knew what would happen if Sokka were actually able to get up and wander through the woods unsupervised?

“It’s okay,” Zuko said, with a softness that surprised himself. “Let me.”

Zuko held the mask up until it was just a centimeter away from Sokka’s face. Sokka gave him that wide-eyed look again. He closed the distance and pressed his mouth to the side of the mask, and Zuko tipped it ever so slightly so that the water hit Sokka’s chapped upper lip. Sokka let out an appreciative little moan and his eyes fell shut as he began to lap the water up hungrily. His motions were clumsy and desperate, and Zuko fought the urge to look away so he couldn’t see the drips of water spilling down Sokka’s chin or the bob of the Adam’s apple in his throat. Although he would never admit it to anyone, Zuko respected Sokka as his opponent. It wasn’t fair to Sokka for Zuko to see him like this.

The water was gone all too soon, and Sokka finally exhaled, letting his head fall backwards against the bison. “Th-thank you. Do you take tips?”

Without thinking, Zuko used his sleeve to wipe away the spilled water from Sokka’s face.

“That’s okay,” he said.

“Good, I d-don’t have any m-money anyway…”

Sokka settled back in to his sleeping bag. He closed his eyes and let out a little hum.

He looked so…harmless like that. It was way too easy to forget that this person with the same one who had so ruthlessly attacked Zuko at the South Pole. In fact, it was easy to forget their respective nations altogether. Easy to forget they were two teens on the opposite side of an unchosen war, that their destinies were irreversibly at odds, and that one might very well kill the other the next time they met. Easy to pretend they were two lonely boys who could choose each other without the trappings of the rest of the world holding them back. Easy to pretend they could be…friends.

Zuko shook himself. How had he let himself get so distracted? “Hey, hang on,” he said. He reached out and prodded Sokka’s shoulder gently. “I brought you water. Now, tell me where the Avatar is.”

Sokka didn’t open his eyes, or respond. In fact, he had started to shiver again, pretty violently. Even though there was a sleeping bag between them, Zuko could feel Sokka’s body vibrating, and hear the sound of his chattering teeth in the night air.

“Are you – ”

“K-K-Katara please, d-don’t m-make me g-go hunting right n-now,” Sokka pled, only barely able to form his words now between the force of his cough and his shaking body.

Zuko grabbed Sokka’s shoulder. “Hey. Look at me. You’re okay.”

Sokka shook his head. His distressed eyes latched onto Zuko, and Sokka turned toward him desperately. “P-please Zuko. Don’t l-leave me out in th-the snow. I d-don’t have m-my gloves and I’m so cold…”

It wasn’t that cold outside, but the fever must have been playing tricks on Sokka’s mind. He definitely looked cold, bundled up in the fur-lined sleeping bag and shaking madly.

Luckily, cold was something Zuko had the power to fix.

“Here,” he said, pushing closer to Sokka so that their bodies were pressed flush together through the fabric of the sleeping bag. He cupped his hands together and lit a small flame, big enough that it would hopefully start to warm Sokka’s exposed skin.

But Sokka didn’t react as Zuko had hoped. He flinched away and let out a hoarse shriek. “No! Stop it! Mom! Mom!”

Zuko hastily put out the flame. Stupid! he chided himself. The boy was from the Water Tribe. Of course he would scare at the sight of fire. Who knew how many Fire Nation ships had made violent visits to Sokka’s village throughout his lifetime? Hell, Zuko had been on one of them. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

So fire was off the table – but Sokka was still shaking. Zuko looked helplessly at him. Why had Sokka’s friends abandoned him like this? His breathing was so shallow and coughs so vicious that he sounded like a dying man. Zuko was afraid that if Sokka stayed like this much longer, that’s what he might become.

Why do I care? Zuko thought suddenly. Sokka was a member of the Avatar’s team. The boy’s death would be to Zuko’s advantage. At least then the next time he faced the Avatar, it would only be him and the girl, and Zuko knew for sure that neither of them were the brains of the operation. Leaving Sokka to struggle through the night alone, perhaps never to see the light of the next day, made sense.

On the other hand, if Zuko left now, that death would be on his hands. The sickness might be the true killer, but if Sokka died, Zuko would be forever left with the knowledge that he could have prevented it. He thought back to all of his previous battles against Sokka and the Avatar. Zuko had never really thought about whether he was willing to kill during those battles. He knew he couldn’t kill the Avatar (never-ending cycle of reincarnation and all that) but what about his mortal friends? Would Zuko do it if he had the chance? Zuko didn’t want to be a murderer, but as he sat here next to Sokka’s shivering body, he realized that he probably would have been willing to kill Sokka at the South Pole if necessary. And there was something wrong with that.

What would Azula do in this situation? She would probably take advantage of Sokka’s state and slit his throat without a second thought, Zuko thought bitterly. Zuko definitely wasn’t the expert on honor, but he was pretty sure there was nothing honorable about murdering a sick teen in cold blood when he’d done nothing to provoke it and couldn’t even defend himself. Besides, Zuko didn’t want to make a habit of following Azula’s example.

What would Uncle do? He’d start by brewing some tea, that much was obvious. But it would probably be some medicinal tea that could cure Sokka’s cough and bring his temperature down. Zuko didn’t doubt that his Uncle would do everything in his power to nurse Sokka back to health, Avatar be damned. Still, Zuko didn’t get to where he was today by taking every detour that Uncle suggested, nor did he have any way of actually healing what was ailing Sokka.

Who am I? Zuko wondered.

“Zuko…”

Sokka’s voice cut through the cold air and Zuko’s internal debate. It sounded even weaker than before, so small it was barely above a whisper. “Zuko…please…”

Zuko didn’t know what Sokka was asking for, and he didn’t know he could offer it if he did. But although Zuko wasn't quite sure who he was, he realized knew who he wasn’t: a murderer.

“It’s going to be okay,” he promised Sokka. “I’m here.”

He tossed the mask to the ground and kicked off his boots. He didn’t have medicine and he couldn’t use fire, so there was just one thing left for him to offer Sokka: himself.

Zuko scooted up the bison’s stomach, away from Sokka, who mourned his absence with a tiny whimper. Reaching the top of the sleeping bag, Zuko tucked his feet in past Sokka’s shoulder and let himself slide down into it. It was tight, but his body was able to squeeze in snugly next to Sokka’s. The sleeping bag narrowed at the foot, so Zuko’s legs stopped right around Sokka’s knees, leaving Sokka’s head right at the level of Zuko’s heartbeat.

Sokka turned instinctually toward the new source of warmth, pressing his chest and body against Zuko’s front and wrapping his arms tight around Zuko’s waist. Contrary to what he claimed, Sokka wasn’t cold – he was burning up, and every part of his body was damp with sweat. Still, he was shivering so uncontrollably that Zuko worried he might bite his tongue off. Zuko wrapped his leg around Sokka’s hips so he could hold the boy tight between his thighs. He pressed Sokka’s face into his chest and wrapped his arms around Sokka’s shoulders, creating as much physical contact as possible. Then, trying to remember everything Uncle had taught him about breath control, he inhaled. As he breathed in, he sent heat to every corner of his body, bringing the temperature of his veins up, far beyond that of a normal human. This was firebending, but it didn’t produce a flame. Just pure, life-giving warmth.

Sokka let out a happy sigh. “Oh, Zuko…” he said again.

“Yeah?”

Sokka didn’t respond, just clung more tightly to the heater in his sleeping bag. Zuko continued to focus his breathing, bringing forth more heat and directing it to where Sokka was touching him. After a few minutes, Sokka’s shivering had stopped entirely, and the rise and fall of his chest against Zuko’s body told Zuko that he had fallen peacefully asleep.

Zuko could have left then. He had done literally all he could for the boy, and it seemed like Sokka was no longer at risk of wasting away in the night. But…

But it was nice. Nice to be held like this, and nice to know he had something of value to give to someone else. Sokka smelled like salt and evergreens, and Zuko liked holding his nose close to Sokka’s hair and breathing it in. He liked the tiny, happy sighs Sokka let out each time he breathed out. He liked the unwavering tightness of Sokka’s arms around his body, like Sokka was enjoying this just as much as he was.

So while Zuko knew he should go, knew he needed to continue on his mission to find the Avatar, knew he couldn’t be discovered like this, he didn’t care.

Zuko stayed. He held Sokka close, and let his eyes fall shut, and focused all of his energy on keeping Sokka warm. And he stayed.

Zuko was awakened by the sunrise.

It took a moment to realize he wasn’t in his bed on the ship, nor was he alone. He was in a sleeping bag on the back of a bison, and a second body was clinging tightly to his.

Shit. He had definitely not intended to stay here all night. He must have fallen asleep without realizing it. Zuko knew it was only by pure luck that he hadn’t been discovered yet, and that knowing his own history, that luck was sure to run out at any moment.

He looked down mournfully at Sokka. The boy wasn’t shaking or coughing, and he didn’t seem nearly as hot as he had been the night before. There was a little puddle of drool on Zuko’s chest where Sokka’s mouth lay open, which might have been gross under normal circumstances but which Zuko found weirdly endearing. He hated to wake Sokka and hated to leave him alone like this, but this time he really had no choice.

“I’m so sorry,” he told Sokka, and he really, really meant it. He unwrapped his legs and arms from Sokka’s body; grabbed Sokka’s arms and gently un-pried them from his own. Then he began to shuffle out of the sleeping bag.

Sokka let out a little moan and began to shift. Zuko was already on the ground, pulling his boots back on, when Sokka’s eyes finally fluttered open.

“Zuko?!” Sokka gasped. “What are you doing here?”

Zuko froze. Sokka seemed much more lucid than he had last night. Zuko wanted to explain himself, but what was there to say? You seemed cold, so I decided to cuddle you, and I accidentally fell asleep because I’m so embarrassingly starved for human contact? No, the truth wouldn’t do. The truth sounded even more ridiculous than any lie Zuko could have told.

Instead, he slipped the mask back over his face. “I’m not here,” he told Sokka. Then he bolted.

Zuko heard Sokka struggling to break free of the sleeping bag and chase after him, but Zuko had too big a lead. He sprinted away, down the hill and through the woods, far enough that he could no longer hear Sokka yelling after him or see the stone structure where they’d spent the night. He ran and ran and ran until he was sure Sokka couldn’t have caught up to him. Only then did he stop and catch his breath. Only then did he let himself look back.

Zuko wondered when he would see Sokka again. He found that the thought made him reluctant. He didn’t want to have to fight with Sokka again. Still, he ached to experience the peaceful warmth of last night all over again. There was a strange lightness in his chest that Zuko felt at once excited and terrified to explore. He supposed it would sort itself out the next time he saw Sokka.

Zuko inhaled again, but this time the exhale came in the form of a painful coughing fit.

Shit.

Sokka’s head was clear the moment the frog turned limp in his mouth. Clear enough that he realized there was a limp frog in his mouth.

“Pth,” he said, spitting the creature out. Katara and Aang were looking expectantly down at him. “What did you guys do to me?”

They exchanged a relieved look. “Thank the spirits that worked. Are you feeling better?”

“Better?” Sokka asked. He barely remembered feeling worse. He had a vague memory of Aang and then Katara leaving him last night, and of being scared and alone. But then someone had brought him water. That same someone had climbed into his sleeping bag and wrapped his arms around Sokka until he fell asleep. That someone was…Zuko?

Sokka felt his brow furrow at the thought. No way. There was no way Zuko, their literal enemy, had made a pitstop at Sokka’s bedside, nursed him back to health, and left him alive.

The memory of Zuko slipping away from him, tugging on his boots and pulling on a mask, flashed through his mind. The face looked so…scared. Scared and sincere. Sokka had never seen Zuko look like that, and he didn’t think his mind could have independently placed such a foreign expression on Zuko’s face.

“Guys…” Sokka began. This was going to sound crazy, but for the sake of the team he had to tell them. “When I was sick, I think I saw…Zuko.”

“Zuko?!” Aang and Katara said in unison. “Why do you think that? Did he attack you?” Katara asked.

“No, no,” Sokka told her. “It wasn’t like that at all. It was like he…took care of me?”

Katara and Aang looked at each other. Then they burst out laughing.

“Sokka, I’m pretty sure that was the fever,” Aang giggled.

“Totally. Can you imagine? Zuko? Oh my gosh, as if,” Katara wheezed.

Sokka swallowed. “Yeah, you guys are probably right,” he conceded.

Still…he couldn’t erase the look on Zuko’s face from his mind. It didn’t feel like a hallucination. It felt real.

Well, there was no use dwelling on it now. Sokka was alive and unscathed, so nothing else really mattered. Sokka shelved the thought of Zuko’s face – and the strangely familiar sensation of being wrapped up in Zuko’s strong arms – knowing full well he was going to spend many sleepless nights trying to reconstruct the memory as vividly as possible.

The next time he saw Zuko would be interesting.