Archive of Our Own

The scene is set: dimmed lights, candles, the old-timey jazz music that Katara likes warbling softly from a speaker. The living room has been transformed into a gentle dream, gauzy white curtains hung up to reflect the candlelight and pink rose petals scattered on the floor. And, of course, Aang is in the middle of it all: dressed in a simple light blue shirt and pants, yellow beanie askew, and kneeling on one knee.

"I love you, and I'd be the happiest man in the world if I could spend the rest of my life with you," Aang says, his voice soft and full of emotion. "So: Katara, baby, will you be my forever girl?"

"Oh, Aang!" Sokka cries, throwing one hand to his forehead. "Of course I'll marry you! Even if you use disgusting terms like forever girl!"

Aang groans, hanging his head. In his hands, the betrothal necklace winks in the candlelight. "Is it really that bad?"

"What, forever girl? Yes, Aang, it's that bad." Sokka reaches for his phone and hits pause on the music. He has to keep blowing the hair from the wig out of his face—because yes, there's a wig, if Aang's asking him to be fake-Katara for the practice proposal then Sokka's going to be the best fake-Katara there ever was. "Why can't you just ask will you marry me like a normal person?"

"Katara doesn't deserve normal, she deserves the best." Aang's eyes go all dreamy again, the way they do whenever he thinks about Katara. Sokka gags (quietly, of course. He does support his sister and her boyfriend, even if they're oogie). "She should know that I'll love her forever, until the end of time, so she's my—"

"Please don't say it."

"—forever girl."

Sokka gags again, less quietly.

"Can we go again?" Aang asks, fiddling with the necklace clasp. "My speech was kind of wobbly at the start—"

"Which start are we talking about here? The fifteen-minute-long one where you started babbling about penguin sledding, or the one where I told you to get on with it?"

"The penguin sledding one."

"Then no, we're not going again."

"But Sokka—!"

"Fifteen minutes, Aang. I was timing." Sokka holds up a finger. "I can, however, be bribed."

"I'll buy you hot dry noodles from that restaurant with the broken door," Aang says immediately.

"Hm. Tempting, but not good enough."

"For two weeks."

Sokka grins and adjusts his wig. "Good man. Now, lift your head, look me right in the eyes, and—"

The door creaks open. Aang yelps and scrambles to his feet, while Sokka whips his head around to look. The motion makes the wig fly off his head.

Sokka watches as it soars gracefully through the air and hits Zuko square in the face.

Zuko stares at them. Sokka and Aang stare back. The wig flops to the floor.

"Do I even want to know?" Zuko asks.

"Hello to you too, Zuko, roommate of my dreams, who definitely won't judge his two best friends for this," says Sokka.

Zuko crosses his arms. "Zuko might not judge his two best friends if they tell him why his living room looks like a unicorn puked on it," he says.

Sokka sniffs. "Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, it's our living room, shared. And third of all, we are clearly doing a practice proposal, which you should know because I put it on the calendar—"

"The calendar in your room?"

"No, the calendar in the kitchen where my sister can see it—yes, Zuko, the calendar in my room, but that actually doesn't matter because I also put it on the online calendar that I shared with you in January—"

"I never look at that thing! You know I never look at it!"

"Which is precisely why you always forget when it's your turn to check the mail. Honestly, Zuko. I even colour-coded it and everything."

"I'm not having the calendar conversation again," Zuko sighs, before turning to Aang. "Practice proposal?"

Aang's face is beet-red. "Uh, yeah," he says, and waves the betrothal necklace. "For Katara."

"Who else would it—okay, fine. Why was Sokka wearing a wig?"

"I'm Katara," Sokka says. "Obviously."

Zuko gives him a critical once-over. "Katara would never wear that," he says, ignoring Sokka's indignant squawk as he steps over the wig and walks past them. "I'm making pasta for dinner. Aang, are you staying?"

"Yeah, probably. Thanks, Zuko!"

Zuko just raises a hand in acknowledgment as he disappears down the hall. Sokka stares wistfully after him, his heart a little glowing ball of warmth in his chest.

"Best roommate ever," he says dreamily. "I can't believe he makes us dinner."

Aang nudges him. "Three weeks left," he says, quietly enough that it won't carry down the hall. The pleasant warmth in Sokka's chest abruptly freezes into something much colder and more anxious.

"Actually," he says, swallowing, "I technically have a month and three weeks. Since we have to wait for the results."

"That's stalling and you know it," Aang says. "Have you thought of how to ask him yet?"

Sokka's thought of nothing else for the last month. "Uh, no. Not yet."

Aang clicks his tongue. "Sokka."

"I'll think of something, okay?" Sokka pats him on the shoulder and moves on before Aang can linger on the topic. "Now, I believe we were focusing on your love life. Let me go get the wig, and we can do take two."

It started like this:

The same year that Sokka decided to do a PhD, Katara had hung him out to dry. Well, that's not how Katara tells it—she says that she decided to move in with Aang, like any healthy young couple would do, and that it had nothing to do with Sokka—but the fact remains that Sokka had suddenly found himself in a position where he'd be a broke student for a few years more than he originally thought he would, and his trusty roommate had just left him.

("I'm your sister, not your roommate," Katara says, every time Sokka retells the story. Sokka maintains that they rented an apartment together on their own, and were thus roommates.)

So: Katara had moved in with Aang, which left Sokka with about a month to find a new roommate because he couldn't afford the two-bedroom on his own. Suki was already sharing her apartment with two other girls from her gym, and Toph owned her apartment, thanks to her parents. Sokka brought it up to Aang one night, and Aang had perked right up and said, "Oh! I know a guy!"

Enter Zuko.

Zuko was strange and moody and quiet, except for when he got mad, at which point he got really loud. He was also, inexplicably, friends with Aang. That was enough for Sokka to give him a chance, because Aang tended to make friends with good people, but Zuko didn't seem to give him the same courtesy. Sokka had resigned himself to a roommate who hated him, but who at the very least did the chores without complaint.

Then Sokka had gotten truly, spectacularly drunk at a party. He still doesn't even know whose party it was, just that none of his other friends knew them, and Sokka was therefore unaccompanied. They were at some bar that Sokka had never been to, in a part of town he didn't know, and some guy had challenged Sokka to a drinking competition with a smirk on his face.

Sokka won the competition. Then he'd stumbled outside without his jacket, tried not to puke, and used his dying phone to dial Katara so she could come pick him up. Only, when he lifted the phone to his ear, it wasn't Katara on the other end.

"Hello? Sokka?" Zuko's voice had been gravelly with sleep. "What is it?"

"You're not Katara," Sokka had said, stupidly. He'd fumbled at his phone. He still remembers it, the memory hazy: Zuko's caller ID on the screen, lacking a profile picture because Sokka didn't have one single photo of him. "I'll—sorry. Sorry. I'll call her. Uh. How d'you get back to the contacts page?"

"...Are you drunk?"

"Is't that obvious?" Sokka had mumbled. Zuko had sighed through the line.

"Don't call Katara," he'd said, and there was fabric rustling on the other end. "It's three in the morning, she'll be sleeping. Where are you?"

Sokka squinted at the blurry neon sign of the bar and forced himself to read out the name.

"Okay." A jingle of keys. "Stay there. I'll come pick you up."

"What? No, Zu—"

Zuko had hung up on him before he could protest. And then, twenty minutes later, he'd pulled up outside the bar in a sleek black car and told Sokka to get in the passenger seat.

Sokka's memory gets patchy after that. Mostly, he remembers stumbling through the dark of the apartment hallway with Zuko propping him up. He remembers Zuko snapping at him to take off his shoes, and shoving a cup of water in his face. He remembers standing over the sink and rinsing his mouth with mouthwash while Zuko stood in the doorway to make sure he didn't choke. Most of all, he remembers Zuko folding the blankets over him as he drifted off to sleep. It was winter then; Sokka would've frozen his toes off if he hadn't made it under the blanket.

In the morning, Sokka had fought past the hot flush of embarrassment to thank Zuko for his help. Zuko had waved it off, said it was only the decent thing to do—and then he'd come down with a cold that very night.

"Don't tell me this is because you drove out to get me yesterday wearing nothing but your pyjamas," Sokka had said when he walked in on Zuko puking over the toilet. 

"Fine, I won't tell you that," Zuko said, and retched again.

So Sokka had taken care of him. Zuko had hissed and spit at him like a cat, but Sokka had just shrugged and said, "Look, man, you've seen me shitfaced. Now I've seen you sick. We're basically even." Zuko, in his delirious state, had seemed to accept that.

And, well. After that, it was hard to go back to pretending like the other person didn't exist. When Sokka realised he'd left his jacket at the bar, Zuko had even gone with him to find it. Eventually, Sokka had just slung his arm around Zuko's shoulders one day and declared them friends, and Zuko didn't protest.

It wasn't until about a year into the friendship that Sokka looked at Zuko and realised he actually wanted more than friendship. That had complicated things significantly. But, well. It's been a year, and Sokka's dealing with it. He's dealing with it fine. He steals longing glances at Zuko and slips his true feelings into over-the-top praise about Zuko's roommate eligibility and endures teasing from every single one of his friends. It's fine, it's working, and Sokka can just...do this indefinitely. Probably.

Except he can't. Because, in his infinite stupidity, he made a bet with Katara.

In his defense, it was right at the start. Right when he'd figured out that he liked Zuko. Back then, Sokka had still thought the crush was harmless. He'd figured that, if he ignored it for a bit, it would die down and he could go back to being Best Buddies with Zuko.

(Spoiler: the crush did not die. In fact, the crush grew bigger, until it spilled over the boundaries of crush and more into the territory of in love with your best friend. Damn Zuko and his delicious cooking. Everyone knows the way to Sokka's heart is through his stomach.)

Back then, when Sokka's crush was still Just A Crush, Katara had just graduated law school with flying colours and was promptly freaking out about her bar exam. She had a year to prepare, so Sokka didn't see what all the fuss was about, but she'd been an absolute mess anyway.

"What if I fail?" she'd said frantically, pacing a hole into the floor of her living room while Aang popped into the kitchen to make her favourite tea. "What if I fail and all of this was for nothing? I knew I should've gone for something safer. Sokka, what if—"

"Okay, you're spiralling," Sokka had said, shoving a pillow into her arms for her to squeeze the life out of. "And you are not quitting after already graduating law school, Katara, we both know you'd never do that."

Katara had clutched the pillow and stared at him, wild-eyed. "But what if—"

"Hey, tell you what," Sokka had said then, like an idiot. "I'll make you a bet, okay? If you pass your bar, I'll do something stupid and risky. Something totally embarrassing, so you have something to keep you motivated. I know how much you love embarrassing me."

Katara scoffed. "Like I need a bet to make you do something stupid and embarrassing."

"Hey, I'm serious! I'll do something I never would've done otherwise. Like, uh..." He thought for a second. "I'll ask Zuko out!"

(In retrospect, this was the stupidest and most embarrassing thing Sokka had ever volunteered to do. In the moment, though, it was simply something slightly crazy.)

Katara had squinted at him suspiciously. "No you won't."

"Hey, I always follow through on my bets," Sokka had said, offended. "I'll do it, I promise. It'll be a whole production. And you can laugh at me all you want when he rejects me, but only if you pass your bar."

If nothing else, the sheer ridiculousness of it had snapped Katara out of her panic spiral. "Fine," she'd said, and pointed a threatening finger at him. "But you have to do it."

Sokka had laughed and promised he would, because, one year ago, it wasn't a problem. Now, with Katara's bar looming on the horizon, it very much is.

Katara will pass, obviously. She's way too driven and smart and well-prepared to not. Unfortunately, Katara passing also means that Sokka has to hold up his end of the bet, which means that he'll have to ask Zuko out.

Essentially, in (one month and) three weeks' time, Sokka will have to break his own heart.

Sokka will never admit it to anyone, because it's stupid and corny and Toph would blow a raspberry at him if she knew, but this is one of his favourite parts of the week. Just this, standing in the aisle at the grocery store with Zuko, both of them dressed in their ugliest, most ragged clothes because today is laundry day. Today is also cleaning day and trash day. He and Zuko have found that, if they work together, it's easiest to just punch out all the chores at the same time—hence the aptly-named Chore Day, where Sokka gets an entire day of hogging Zuko to himself and getting lost in the sheer domesticity of it all.

Right now, Zuko picks up a packet of instant ramen off the shelf and squints at the back of it. "Does this have shrimp in it?" he asks, passing it to Sokka. Their fingers brush. "I don't have my glasses."

"You literally never have your glasses," Sokka says, scanning the ingredient list. "Also, no. Aang will be fine to eat this one." He tosses it in the basket. "And so another contender for Best Instant Ramen enters the ring."

"I still think that one in the orange packet is the best."

"You just liked that one because you have the tastebuds of a demon."

"Just because you can't handle spice—"

"I can handle spice. What was in that ramen wasn't spice, Zuko. It was whatever lives in the deepest pits of hell."

"A little dramatic, but okay," Zuko mutters, moving on. "What's that pasta brand you said you liked? I'll get some more of that one."

Sokka feels fondness swelling hopelessly in his chest. He usually lets Zuko take the lead on grocery shopping and makes up for it by paying, because Zuko cooks more and knows what they need. Today is no different. He follows Zuko around like the lovesick idiot he is and answers all his questions and pretends to be perusing the shelves whenever Zuko looks back at him.

When they pass by the frozen aisle, a yellow tag catches Sokka's eye. "Hold on," he says, and darts over. 

The fancy matcha ice cream that Zuko likes is on special. He usually doesn't buy it, because it's decently expensive for ice cream and also Sokka thinks it tastes like grass and therefore won't help him finish it, but Sokka knows that he used to have it as a post-study snack when he was still living with his uncle. It's a comfort food for him, even if he won't admit it, so Sokka picks up two tubs and returns to Zuko to put them in the cart.

Zuko stares. "You don't even like this ice cream."

"No, but you do," Sokka says absently. He nudges Zuko out of the way so he can take hold of the cart handle. "Don't worry, it's on me. My treat."

"What—Sokka, no. It's expensive."

"It's on special! And you deserve something nice every now and then."

"Sokka—"

"La la la, I can't hear you," Sokka sings, starting to push the cart down the aisle. Zuko makes an indignant sound and follows after him.

"Sokka, seriously, you don't have to," he says, reaching down to take the ice cream out. Sokka bats his hand away with a tsk.

"Zuko, if I say we're getting it, we're getting it," he says mock-sternly. "I'm the one paying, so I get to decide. Just let me do this for you, yeah?"

Zuko stares at him. His cheeks are oddly pink. Must be from the cold of the frozen aisle; Zuko's only wearing a t-shirt, the madman.

"Okay," Zuko finally says, and steps back from the cart. He blinks a few times, rapidly, as if clearing something from his eyes. "We, um. We need eggs."

He spins on his heel and stalks away from the cart. Sokka glances inside the cart, where two cartons of eggs sit in plain sight, and grins to himself.

He doesn't tell Zuko. It's more fun to watch him realise on his own.

Here's the issue with making bets with Katara: she has the memory of an elephant, and she's relentless. A month ago, she'd started sending Sokka weekly reminders about his end of the bet. If, at the end of all this, he doesn't ask Zuko out, then Katara will hunt him down and publicly flay him.

(Okay, she won't do that. She will, however, call him a coward for the rest of eternity, and that's basically as bad. Besides, if Sokka doesn't hold up his end of the bet, it feels like bad luck for her—which he obviously can't tolerate. He'd do anything if it meant his little sister could pass the bar and achieve her dreams.)

[Katara / 8:06 AM]: Weekly reminder about The Bet

[Sokka / 9:37 AM]: aren't u meant to be studying for the most important exam of ur life

Katara doesn't respond, which means that she's returned to her caffeine-fuelled study haze. But just because he's free from texts from Katara doesn't mean that he's free from being hounded by the idea of asking Zuko out, because Katara told Aang.

And Aang, due to his whole thing where he's planning to propose to Sokka's sister, is at Sokka's place all the time.

"Two weeks left," Aang says helpfully when Sokka opens the door. Sokka shushes him immediately, irrational panic rising in his chest.

"Zuko's home," he hisses. "Don't mention it, okay?" He glances over his shoulder, but Zuko is nowhere to be seen.

"Okay," Aang agrees easily. "But have you got anything in mind yet?" 

Sokka chews on the inside of his cheek. "Uh. Walk in the park?"

Aang's face takes on a disapproving look. "Sokka."

"Look, can this wait for another time? When we're, y'know, somewhere more private?" 

"Yeah, but you can do better than a walk in the park," Aang says, toeing off his shoes. "Hey, you know what? We can trade ideas!"

Sokka squints at him. "...Pretty sure you don't need any ideas for a first date, Aang."

Aang tugs at his sleeve nervously. "Yeah, but I've been thinking," he says. "I should probably do something more, like, grand, you know? Oh! You know how I did that flying course that one time? What if I got one of those planes that spells stuff and I write it out in the sky?" 

"...Let's think on that one, okay?" Sokka says, taking Aang by the shoulders and steering him inside. "Just...run your ideas by me, and I'll run mine by you."

"Is the plane idea bad? You can tell me if it's bad."

"Let's just say it needs some workshopping," Sokka suggests, and Aang drops his head into his hands with a groan.

Sokka chews slowly. He considers the taste, the spice level, the texture of the noodles. Across the table, Zuko is eating just as thoughtfully as he is.

Sokka swallows. He puts down his chopsticks and meets Zuko's eyes across the table. The silence is deafening.

"This ramen is terrible," Sokka finally says, and Zuko throws down his chopsticks.

"Thank Agni, I completely agree," he says, before standing and carrying his bowl to the bin. "Takeout?"

"Takeout," Sokka agrees, already going for the phone. He doesn't ask for Zuko's order; he's already got it memorized.

He's at brunch with Suki when she perks up and calls out, "Aang! Zuko! Over here!"

Sokka whips his head around, panic crawling up his throat because he'd literally just been unloading all his Zuko troubles on Suki. Judging from the glint in Suki's eye, she knows exactly what she's doing. And—yes, there on the path, both looking exhausted but happy, are Aang and Zuko. They're both wearing dark green shirts with a yellow logo that Sokka can't read, and Zuko is carrying all his photography equipment, so they must've just come from a job.

Aang bounds over. "Suki! Sokka! It's so good to see you guys!" He gives them both a quick hug, then drops into an unoccupied chair. "Sorry if we smell weird, by the way. They had an incense thing going at the protest and it really sticks to your clothes."

He pulls at his green shirt as if to demonstrate, and Sokka catches a whiff of something smoky and intense. Then Zuko pulls out the chair next to him and drops into it with a sigh, and the smell gets about ten times stronger. Inexplicably, Sokka's face heats up. Across the table, Suki meets his eyes and smirks.

"Protest, huh?" she asks, and leans in to read the text on Aang's shirt. She wrinkles her nose. "Freedom Fighters? Aren't they run by that Jet guy?"

"Yeah, he's a little...passionate," Aang says, which Sokka thinks is an understatement. He knows that you need to be intense to run a peace activism organisation, but Jet really takes it to another level. "He's pretty nice, though. He talked to me for ages when I asked him for an interview."

Zuko rolls his eyes. "That's just because you buttered him up first."

Aang elbows him good-naturedly. "Don't listen to Zuko," he says. "He's just mad because he was trying to take photos and Jet kept interrupting."

Zuko crosses his arms and glowers at the table. "You'd think he'd want me to get my job done so he could get some good photos of the Freedom Fighters out there," he says, bristling. "But no, he was all—ugh."

"Ugh?" Sokka repeats, raising a brow. "What'd he do, insult your baby?"

Zuko's hand automatically goes to his camera—or, as the group affectionately calls it, his 'baby'—but Aang just snickers. "No, even worse," he says, leaning in. "He was flirting."

A chill goes down Sokka's spine. "What?"

Zuko scowls at the table, but now that Sokka's looking for it, he can see the hint of a blush on his cheeks. "He kept—complimenting me," he mutters. "And he gave me his number."

"And he asked you to come to the next protest," Aang adds. "He didn't even ask me!"

"He might just need a photographer more than he needs a journalist. Doesn't mean anything."

Aang rolls his eyes. "Sure, and the way he said I'd love to see you around doesn't mean anything, either," he says, apparently completely unaware of how every word he says is another chip of ice in Sokka's blood. Or maybe, with the pointed look he sends Sokka's way, he's completely aware.

Suki is definitely aware, that bastard, because she props her elbows on the table and says, "So he likes you, huh, Zuko? You gonna do anything with his number?"

Zuko's blush grows a bit brighter, and Sokka's heart sinks. But then—it's hard to tell, because he's sitting on Zuko's left and the scar makes it harder to see where his eyes are looking—but he thinks he sees Zuko's gaze flicker towards him for a moment, a brief glimpse of gold.

"No," Zuko says, and Sokka tries not to make his sigh of relief too obvious. "I'm not interested."

"Oh?" Suki's eyes glimmer. "And why is that?"

"I'm just not, okay?" Zuko snaps. His blush hasn't abated. Suki holds up her hands, recognising a Zuko Outburst when she sees one. 

"Okay, okay," she says. "Just asking."

"Jet just really got under his skin," Aang tells her. "I think he has that general effect on people."

"No kidding," Zuko mutters. His cheeks are still red, and he's fiddling with his camera strap the way he always does when he's anxious. "He's the kind of guy that people remember."

For some reason, that makes Sokka feel kind of nauseous. "But you're, uh, not interested, right?" he asks, and his voice comes out a little hoarse. Zuko snaps his head up to look at him, and the crawling anxiety in Sokka's stomach grows worse. He imagines it like a beast of some kind, something with claws and teeth. "In Jet?"

Zuko holds his gaze for a moment. "No," he says, and it sounds like it has another meaning that Sokka's not picking up on. "I'm not."

Later, when Aang apologises and says that he and Zuko have to go edit their article and photos, Aang leans over to whisper in Sokka's ear as he passes.

"One week left," he says, and the beast in Sokka's stomach sharpens its claws.

[Katara / 3:26 AM]:  kill me

[Zuko / 3:29 AM]: Did you mean to send this to me?

[Katara / 3:29 AM]:  yes

[Katara / 3:29 AM]: you're the only one who would actually do it

[Zuko / 3:30 AM]:  Bar practice not going well?

[Katara / 3:30 AM]: what do you think zuko

[Katara / 3:30 AM]: what part of 'kill me' makes you think it's going fine and peachy

[Zuko / 3:31 AM]: 👍

[Katara / 3:31 AM]:  changed my mind. don't kill me. i need to kill you instead

[Zuko / 3:32 AM]: 👎

"Escape room," Sokka says, lying on the floor of his living room. Zuko is out taking photos for some project or other, which means he has the apartment to himself, which means Aang has come over to trade date-slash-proposal ideas.

Aang thinks for a moment. "Okay, that one works," he says, and Sokka does a quiet fist pump before adding a point to the 'Sokka' side of the tally. "My turn: impromptu ski trip, and I propose to her at the bottom."

"Ha! Nice try. She's doing law—impromptu is an automatic no."

"Monkeyfeathers," Aang says despondently. "What about ice skating?"

Sokka considers it for a second. "I'll give you that one," he allows, and adds a point to 'Aang'. Aang does a stupid little victory dance. Sokka remembers that this is going to be the guy he'll see at every family reunion for the rest of his life, and briefly despairs.

"If you drop it, I'll—"

"Kill me slowly and brutally, yes, I know," Sokka says. He's lying on Zuko's bed, holding Zuko's camera to his face and flipping through the photos Zuko took at his last event. He usually photographs the things that Aang goes to—they're planning to go into journalism together, after all, as a team—but he does branch out and do non-political things sometimes, to stretch his metaphorical legs. This is one of them.

It's a wedding. A high-profile one, too; apparently one of the brides is the daughter of a bigshot tech CEO. Zuko had gotten paid well for it, even though he was only working as an assistant photographer. He sits at his desk now, glasses perched on his nose—a rare sight, and one that Sokka cherishes—as he edits the photos. Sokka is looking at the raw ones, the ones that were captured exactly as they are.

The brides in the photos look happy, but not ecstatically, over-the-top happy. No, they look at each other with this warm contentment that makes the beast in Sokka's stomach come back to life. They look like this is the first day of the rest of their lives.

He's had weddings on his mind lately, what with Aang's proposal practice and all, and because his brain is a traitor it starts to wonder what his and Zuko's would look like. Which is insane, obviously. Sokka hasn't even asked him out yet—four days left, whispers a voice in his head that sounds like Aang—but he can't help it.

It doesn't help that one bride is Fire Nation and the other is Water Tribe. There's one photo, the first look, that Sokka lingers on. The brides are both looking at each other with such love in their eyes, such unadulterated adoration, that he finds he can't tear his eyes away.

What would it feel like, to be looked at like that? To bare all his love and see it returned?

The bed dips beside Sokka's head as Zuko kneels on it. "That one's one of my favourites," he says. "They look really good together. And they look like they're in love."

Sokka swallows. What about you? he wants to ask. What do you look like when you're in love?

"Yeah," he says aloud, instead of spilling all his deepest and darkest thoughts. "Yeah, they really do."

On the day of Katara's bar exam, Sokka wakes up at six in the morning and finds Zuko stress-baking.

"What," he says as a greeting. Zuko is sitting at the kitchen table, bleary-eyed and eating out of the matcha ice cream tub Sokka got for him weeks ago. There's a tray of...something...in the oven.

"Emotional support brownies," Zuko says, like that explains everything. It does, though. Kind of.

Katara booked the morning session for her exam, because she's crazy, so Sokka can't see her in person beforehand. He sends her a good luck text and a video of Zuko baking and a promise that Zuko will drop off the brownies later today. Then he spends the rest of his day jittery and on-edge, so nervous that he has three separate people ask him what's up. He checks his phone constantly, waiting for the text.

Then Katara calls him, in the middle of the afternoon. He ducks out of his lecture and into the hall. 

"How was it?" he asks breathlessly. He can hear people talking in the background. She must've only just gotten out.

"I think—it went well?" She sounds like someone's punched all the wind out of her. "It was—good. I think. I think it was good."

Sokka closes his eyes with relief. He never doubted her, but it's still nice to hear it from her mouth. "I'm sure you did great," he says. "One month until results."

"Yeah," she agrees, still sounding dazed. "One month."

(Also, one month until Sokka finds out whether or not he has to keep his end of the bargain. But he doesn't think about that. Not yet.)

"Obviously I have to wait until after her bar results come out," Aang says, pacing the length of the living room. "She'll pass, of course—"

"Of course," Sokka agrees.

"—and that's her moment, there's no way I'm going to steal it to propose," Aang continues doggedly. "So I'll wait at least a month. Or—is a month too short? Should I wait two months? Zuko, what do you think?"

"I think that you can drop the forever girl part from your speech," Zuko says. He's sitting cross-legged on the floor, his attention completely taken by Momo, who'd hitched a ride over with Aang. Sokka has never been more jealous of a cat than he is in this moment. 

"That wasn't the question," Aang says, slightly desperately. "How long should I leave it? I don't want to wait too long, because then she might think I don't want to propose, which isn't true at all—"

"I think," Sokka interrupts, "that you can just take your cue from her. When she starts paying attention to things other than the bar, then I'd say you're good to go."

"Seconded," says Zuko, "and also, drop forever girl."

"It's not that bad!"

"I'm sure Katara will think it's sweet," Sokka says consolingly, which is notably not the same as saying it's not bad. Aang buries his face in his hands and screams.

[Zuko / 6:52 PM]:  [25 photos]

[Suki / 7:16 PM]:  ok everyone place your bets

[Suki / 7:16 PM]: i think it's just 25 pics of those cute turtleducks at the park that he's obsessed with

[Sokka / 7:22 PM]: my vote is for baking pics of the cookies he made this morning (delicious btw)

[Aang / 7:29 PM]: I say it's pictures of us that he takes when he sees us on campus and doesn't say hi!

[Suki / 7:32 PM]: like a stalker?

[Aang / 7:32 PM]: Yeah I guess

[Toph / 7:35 PM]: nice try idiots it's me at my earth rumble comp last night

[Sokka / 7:36 PM]: ok im downloading the photos now

[Sokka / 7:38 PM]: TOPH HOW DID YOU KNOW

[Sokka / 7:38 PM]: YOU CANT EVEN SEE THE PHOTOS WTF

[Toph / 7:40 PM]: I'm just that good

"You went to Toph's Earth Rumble and didn't tell me?" Sokka shouts from where he lies on the couch. 

"You couldn't have made it anyway!" Zuko shouts back from the kitchen. "And you know it's just Toph wrestling guys twice her size!"

"Still would've been nice to know! Then I wouldn't have lost the photo betting game!"

There's a clatter from the kitchen, and then Zuko pokes his head around the corner. "It's not all Toph," he says. "Keep swiping."

Sokka grumbles good-naturedly, but does. The first twenty or so pics are all various angles of Toph destroying her opponents in the bimonthly wrestling competition that her gym holds. She's grinning in all of them, looking like she's having the time of her life. But the last five are different.

The first one is a picture of Katara, standing in her doorway and holding a tupperware container of brownies. Must've been the day of her bar, right after Zuko popped over to give them to her. The second, like Aang predicted, is a slightly blurry zoomed-in shot of Suki walking across campus. And the last three are all Sokka.

Zuko does this sometimes. He has a habit of taking photos of his friends—never selfies, which Sokka considers a great disappointment, but lots of candids of the rest of them. It's only natural, Sokka supposes. He's got his camera on him all the time, and he's a sentimental kind of guy even if he won't admit it, so of course he'd take photos of them. "He likes to take photos of things he cares about," Aang had said once, elbowing Zuko in the side, and Zuko had gone pink and didn't refute it.

These photos, though—these photos make Sokka wonder.

It's all just photos of Sokka hunched over his laptop. He doesn't remember seeing Zuko with his camera at any point over the last week, but when he gets absorbed in his work, he gets absorbed. Zuko would've had all the time in the world to snap a couple photos without him noticing. 

There's one photo that Sokka lingers on. It must've been taken at some point during the evening, because the room is dim and dusky. His laptop screen is out of frame, so the only source of light in the entire photo is the reflection in Sokka's eyes. 

Why did Zuko take this photo? It's just Sokka, in his and Zuko's shared apartment, doing Sokka things—things that Zuko, for some reason, had thought fit to capture in a photo forever. To capture in a photo like that.

He likes to take photos of things he cares about. Sokka stares at the photo of himself until his screen goes dark. He glances in the direction of the kitchen, where he can hear the sounds of Zuko bustling around.

Sokka knows that Zuko cares about him. They're best friends—obviously he cares. The question, now, is how he cares, and if it's the same way that Sokka cares about him.

Sokka hopes it is. With every bone in his body, he hopes.

"What am I, a glorified pack mule?" Sokka complains half-heartedly, lugging Zuko's backpack behind him as he gets out of the car. 

"Glorified is pushing it," Zuko says, not even looking up from where he's fiddling with his camera. "You're just a pack mule."

"Slander, from my very own best friend—"

"Think of it this way, Sokka," Aang says, patting him on the shoulder. "Zuko trusts you enough to let you touch his equipment. Isn't that great?"

"Or maybe I'm just the only guy he knows with enough muscle to lift this thing. Good god, Zuko, what do you put in here?"

"If I needed muscle I'd ask Suki," Zuko says, unfazed. Sokka bites back the urge to say, so why'd you ask me and not her? What do I offer? "C'mon, Aang. We're already running late, and they're expecting us. Sokka, all you have to do is follow along. I'll tell you if I need something."

"I really am a pack mule," Sokka mutters, but follows without further complaint. 

They'd driven out of town for this, a protest by a small village whose river is being choked by a factory upstream. It's the latest in a series of similar protests all across the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdoms, starting with a Fire Nation town called Jang Hui. Sokka's not too caught up on the specifics, but he knows Katara was following it passionately. 

Zuko and Aang are just here to get the stories of the locals and see firsthand the effect of the factory. Sokka tags along, obediently handing Zuko his equipment when he needs it, and making faces at the gross sludge that the village's river has turned into. He also gets to witness how Aang and Zuko work in perfect tandem—if he didn't know, he never would've guessed that they'd be a team, but they seem to understand each other's slightest cues. Zuko is quiet and respectful as he asks to take portraits of the village's elders, who remember what the river was like before the factory, and Aang's gentle nature coaxes stories out of them that Sokka shamelessly listens to, spellbound.

Sokka also finds it hard to keep his eyes off Zuko.

He's wearing all black today, a snug turtleneck sweater and jeans, and it's very distracting. His hair is tied back in a ponytail to keep it out of his face, but wispy flyaways escape at his hairline, and Sokka keeps wanting to tuck them behind his ear. He's wholly focused on his work, his gaze dark and intense, and when he speaks his voice is serious and a little distant, like he's lost inside his own head.

This, Sokka knows, is what Zuko loves doing. The stories he's most passionate about are the stories where the people are passionate. There's a spark in Zuko that comes alive when he does this, and Sokka counts himself lucky to be able to witness it.

Sokka offers to drive on the way back. Aang, who's exhausted, and Zuko, whose eyes are tired from an entire day of squinting through his viewfinder, both gladly let him take the wheel. Aang stretches out on the backseat while Zuko takes shotgun. They both fall asleep in a matter of minutes.

It's late when they get home. Sokka nudges Aang up just enough to get him to walk to the couch and crash there, but Zuko can't be roused. He's usually a light sleeper, so he must really be exhausted.

Sokka wriggles his arms under Zuko's knees and back and manages to lift him up. He's six feet of lean muscle, so it's no easy feat, but Sokka manages to get him into bed. Zuko only stirs once, right as Sokka is about to leave; he curls closer as Sokka pulls away from him, his brows drawing together in a faint frown.

Sokka reaches out and presses his thumb against the furrow. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart," he says softly, allowing himself to indulge in the pet name when Zuko's not conscious enough to hear it. "You're safe here."

Zuko's face relaxes, and he doesn't stir again. Sokka stares at him for a moment, his heart feeling like it's about to overflow, before he tiptoes out of Zuko's room and shuts the door behind him.

The next morning, when he finds Zuko and Aang flipping through the photos and discussing which ones to use for their piece, he thinks it's a shame that Zuko's always the photographer. If there'd been a photo of the Zuko from yesterday, the one who was quietly intense and so completely focused on what he was doing, Sokka would've put it on the front page for sure.

[Katara / 2:31 PM]:  results came

[Sokka / 2:32 PM]: WHAT

[Sokka / 2:34 PM]:  KATARA PICK UP MY CALLS

[Aang / 2:35 PM]:  She hasn't opened the envelope yet

[Aang / 2:35 PM]: Can everyone get to ours within the next 30 mins? She said she wants to do it with you all here.

[Sokka / 2:36 PM]: [photo]

[Sokka / 2:36 PM]: way ahead of you buddy

[Suki / 2:38 PM]: me and toph r on the way

[Zuko / 2:40 PM]: 👍

The living room is dead silent. They all sit in a squashed-up lump on Katara and Aang's couch, staring anxiously down the hall. Katara had disappeared into her room with the envelope, wanting to open it in private with the rest of them here to support her. Aang is kneeling on the floor with Appa, his hands buried in the Mastiff's thick fur and worrying his lip between his teeth.

The bedroom door opens. Katara steps out, her face pale. She holds an unfolded piece of paper in her hand.

She stares at them for a second, then wets her lips.

"I passed," she says. 

The living room erupts.

Suki lets out a whoop!, and Toph is yelling unintelligibly, and Aang just stands up and opens his arms. Katara throws herself at him, her eyes starting to water, as Sokka finally feels an honest-to-god scream tear out of his throat.

"I passed!" Katara yells, and Sokka yells with her. She lets go of Aang to reach out one hand towards Sokka, which he grabs with both of his own. 

"You're a lawyer!" he shouts, jumping up and down. "My baby sister's a lawyer!"

Katara lets out a slightly hysterical laugh. Sokka leans in to wrap her and Aang in a bear hug, squeezing until she lets out a squeak. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a flash.

"A lawyer," he babbles, over and over. "You did it, Katara. You did it."

Later that night, after they all scream themselves hoarse and take Katara to her favourite restaurant and he and Katara have a very emotional video call with their dad, Sokka lies in bed and stares at the ceiling and feels fit to burst with pride. His baby sister passed the bar exam. His baby sister is a lawyer. She's going to take the world by storm.

On his bedside table, his phone screen lights up. Sokka rolls over and checks it.

[Zuko / 12:07 AM]:  [3 photos]

[Zuko / 12:07 AM]: ❤️

Sokka opens the notification. Zuko's sent three photos to the group chat—Sokka does recall, through the haze of his tears, a camera flash somewhere in the mess that happened after Katara came out of her room. He opens them.

The first is Katara and Aang and Sokka, all glomped together in one big hug. They all have their mouths open in excited yells, and Sokka and Katara are both a little teary-eyed. Aang is very much teary-eyed. Sokka saves that photo immediately. The second is a group photo of everyone but Zuko, all of them in some state of happiness-induced meltdown. Even Appa is there, jumping on the sofa and mouth open mid-bark.

The third is just Katara. She's looking right at the camera, grinning so wide it must hurt. She's holding up the letter, the word Congratulations clearly legible across the top.

Sokka makes that one his new contact photo for her. He stares at it, his heart full, until he falls asleep.

[Katara / 9:12 AM]:  you know what this means

[Sokka / 10:23 AM]: what does what mean my incredible genius lawyer sister

[Katara / 10:26 AM]: I passed the bar

[Katara / 10:26 AM]: So you have to keep your end of the bargain

[Sokka / 10:27 AM]: i take it back ur not my incredible genius lawyer sister

[Sokka / 10:27 AM]:  ur my awful scheming conniving lawyer sister

[Katara / 10:28 AM]: I thought you never backed out of a bet?

[Katara / 10:28 AM]: I give you a month, and that's me being generous

[Katara / 10:29 AM]: Do it or else

[Sokka / 10:31 AM]: or else ????

[Katara / 10:31 AM]: 🙂

[Sokka / 10:32 AM]:  :(

"Okay, consider: dinner and a movie," Sokka says. "Classic. Can't go wrong with that."

"Boooo," Suki says. Beside her, Toph blows a raspberry. "That's so boring. Is that really the statement you want to make after a year of pining?"

"I haven't been pining—"

"You sigh," Aang points out. "Wistfully."

"It's very annoying," Toph adds.

Sokka crouches down to the ground to ruffle Appa's fur. "You're my only friend left in the world, Appa," he says. "Everyone else bullies me."

Appa snuffles into his palm. Sokka will take that as a win.

On the whiteboard in Aang and Katara's living room that Katara usually uses for studying, there's now an array of first date ideas that are being slowly but surely shot down by Sokka's traitorous friends. Picnic was vetoed because Zuko gets hives if he has to be perceived in public for too long. Craft workshop was rejected on the basis of Zuko having a tendency to accidentally make things explode, and also because it's expensive. Escape room was agreed on by all to be something that Zuko would like, but they would need more than two people to do it, so it had to go.

"Movies wouldn't work anyway," Katara says, coming into the living room with Momo purring in her arms. "Isn't Zuko a huge movie snob?"

"He is, it's insufferable," Suki says, sounding fondly exasperated. "The only movies we can ever agree to watch together are kids' movies."

"Obviously if I asked him out on a date I'd pick a movie he likes," Sokka says, offended. "It'd be the director's cut of Noriko Noren's Love Amongst the Dragons, because his favourite part is in one of the deleted scenes. Either that or Pu-On Tim's version of The Boy in the Iceberg, but then we'd have to change the vibe a little because he only likes watching that movie so he can hate on it."

Everyone stares at him for a moment.

"Huh," Toph says, sounding reluctantly impressed. "Maybe you should do dinner and a movie."

"I still say it's boring," Suki says. "But it's very sweet that you know those kinds of things about him, Sokka."

Sokka's face heats up. "I just—it's nothing," he mutters, looking away. "I live with him, and he talks a lot, and...it's nothing."

"It's not nothing," Aang says gently, squatting down beside him to pat him on the shoulder. "You really care about him, and it shows. That's good, Sokka."

Sokka buries his head in his hands and makes an unintelligible string of sounds. He feels like he's being pried open and observed under a microscope. Yes, he cares about Zuko; loves him, even. And, by the end of the month, he'll have ruined it all.

"I'll keep dinner and a movie," he says, because he can't say any of this without feeling like he's unraveling himself through his mouth. "Just as a backup plan."

"—and as she steps out of the car, I release a flock of white pigeon-doves—"

"What, like, wild?" Sokka asks, sandwiching the phone between his ear and shoulder as he accepts his coffee from the barista. 

"Trained, obviously," Aang says on the other end, sounding scandalized. "Anyway, I release them and they fly up in the sky to form the words—"

"I don't think trained pigeon-doves can do that, bud."

A sigh. "Yeah, probably not," Aang says morosely. "Sorry. I think I'm going kinda crazy."

"Why don't you just go with the original idea?" Sokka asks. "With the living room? She'll love it. It's the home you built together and all that jazz, right?"

"I guess," Aang says, sounding thoughtful. "What about you? Got any ideas for the Big First Date?"

"Okay, first of all, that's assuming that he says yes, which he won't," Sokka says, ignoring Aang's snort on the other end. "And yes, actually. The Boiling Rock theatre is doing a production of Crossroads of Destiny."

"Is that the play that he saw when he was sixteen and it made him ugly-cry and have an identity crisis?"

"It is in fact the play that he saw when he was sixteen that made him ugly-cry and have an identity crisis," Sokka confirms. "But! I have it on good authority that he can watch it now without crying."

"Whose authority?"

"Iroh's."

"You asked Iroh?" 

"Yes, I did ask Iroh, because he and I are best friends," Sokka sniffs. "And, for your information, he was very supportive of it."

"Supportive of what?"

That's not Aang.

Sokka jumps and whirls around, almost spilling his coffee in the process. And—fuck fuck fuck, it's Zuko, standing there with one eyebrow quirked and a faint smile on his face.

"Zuko!" Sokka squeaks, and hears Aang say, "Zuko?!" on the other end. He fumbles his phone and hits the 'end call' button immediately. "Uh, hi. Hi, Zuko, my good friend who has a tendency to sneak up on people."

Zuko's eyebrow climbs higher.

"You talked to my uncle?" he asks. "I heard you say his name."

Sokka is going to die, right here and now, and it will all be Aang's fault.

"Uh—I had an idea," he says, his brain working overtime to come up with a plausible excuse. "For...a new tea blend?"

The eyebrow climbs higher still.

"You had an idea for a new tea blend?" Zuko asks skeptically. "Don't you hate tea?"

"I don't hate it, I just think it's an inferior version of every other hot drink out there," Sokka insists. "But also I love your uncle and I want him to make money. So yes, Zuko, I had an idea for a new tea blend."

Zuko doesn't look convinced. "I suppose I'll just have to ask Uncle about it next time I see him, then," he says, in a voice that makes it clear he thinks Sokka's spouting absolute bullshit. He's right, of course, but he doesn't know that. "Were you headed to class? I'll come with you."

He falls into step beside Sokka, who has no choice but to start walking to his next class. He'll be a few minutes late now anyway, what with Zuko being a distraction and all. They walk together for a bit in comfortable silence, soaking in the sun, before Sokka realises:

He could do it, right now. He could ask.

They're alone, and Zuko seems like he's in a good mood, and Sokka already knows what he wants to do for the date. He's got a class right after this anyway, so he has an excuse to make a quick escape. He looks at Zuko, whose face is tilted up like a flower to try and catch the sun, and his heart rises up his throat and chokes him.

"Zuko," he starts, and Zuko turns to him. In the sunlight, his eyes are like liquid gold. 

Sokka could say it. It's just one sentence: do you want to go out with me, on a date? The words tremble on the tip of his tongue.

But then he remembers: tonight is their weekly Game Night. Tonight, Sokka will go home and get his ass kicked by Zuko at Scrabble, and then he'll kick Zuko's ass at whatever card game they decide to do this time, and then they'll both fight over the rules until none of it makes sense anymore. Sokka loves Game Night. It's a moment for just him and Zuko, something they started to 'bond as roommates' but is now just an opportunity to goof around with each other.

If Sokka asks Zuko out now, he'll lose all of that.

He swallows. Opens his mouth. 

"Got any new card games for tonight?" he asks.

Zuko's eyes take on a competitive glint. "Just you wait," he says, leaning in. Sokka has to consciously remind himself to not look at his mouth. "I'll crush you like a bug."

Sokka says something suitably competitive in response—he doesn't even know what it is, just that it makes Zuko huff out a laugh—and doesn't mention a date at all.

He'll hold on to this. Just a little longer. Just as long as he can.

Three weeks after Katara passes the bar, she says she wants to host a dinner.

"To celebrate," she says over the phone. "Me passing, obviously, but also Aang getting a piece published with the Ba Sing Se Times. Did you know they asked him if he could do another one? If he's lucky, it might end up being permanent."

"That's great," Sokka says automatically, even though his tongue feels like sand in his mouth. He'd marked down the date for the dinner on his calendar, but then his eyes had caught on something else he'd pencilled in for this week.

Ask Zuko out. Just those three simple words, written neatly in Sokka's own hand at the end of this week. This is something he didn't add to the shared calendar. He touches the words briefly and feels dread curl in his stomach.

Katara hangs up not long after, presumably to go call the others and tell them of her dinner plans. Sokka stares at the calendar and tries not to feel like his world is coming to an end.

"Zuko, your hair is fine—"

"It's fine when I say it's fine," Zuko snaps, wrestling his hair back into a braid so tight that Sokka winces just looking at it.

"It's just a dinner with everyone," Sokka says. "You don't have to, like, look good. And you always look good anyway."

Zuko shoots him an odd look in the mirror, and Sokka silently curses his big mouth. "It's not that," he says. "I just—want to look presentable."

"For who, Appa?"

Zuko doesn't answer. He messes around with his hair until they're almost late, at which point Sokka gets in the car because he knows it stresses Zuko out and will make him get ready faster. Sure enough, Zuko throws himself into the passenger seat at 6:20 on the dot, breathing hard. He's dressed in a nice red shirt and black pants, and his camera is hanging around his neck.

"Planning to take some candids?" Sokka asks as he starts down the route to Katara and Aang's house. Zuko shifts in his seat.

"Uh, yeah," he says, and his voice is so weird that Sokka shoots him a look. "Just some candids."

They get to Katara and Aang's, and Sokka might be imagining it, but there's some sort of weird energy in the air. Zuko is tense and fidgety, and he keeps making eye contact with Suki across the table. Toph seems normal, but then again Toph is always unfazed by everything, so.

When dinner is over, and they're clearing the table, Sokka leans over and whispers in Zuko's ear. "Hey, you good?" he asks, and Zuko jumps a little. "You're acting kinda weird."

"I—it's nothing," Zuko says, his eyes darting around. Something's definitely up. "Just, uh. Stressed about something for school."

Sokka doesn't believe that for a second, but he lets it drop. As he loads the last plate into the dishwasher, he sees Katara lean down to whisper something to Toph, who nods. Then Katara taps Aang on the shoulder and leads him out to their little balcony, the one with all the plants that Momo likes to terrorize. Sokka pays them no mind—they're probably just being oogie, after Aang's tearful speech at dinner where he just babbled about how proud he was of Katara—but then Zuko is suddenly grabbing his arm hard enough to bruise.

"Ow, dude, what the hell—"

"Come on," Zuko says, his voice low and suddenly urgent. He steers Sokka out into the hall with no explanation, and Sokka blinks in confusion as he sees Suki and Toph herding Appa and Momo into the bedroom. Appa lets out a soft, pitiful boof as Suki shuts the door on him with a whispered apology.

"Hey, what's going on?" Sokka asks. "Why are we imprisoning the pets?"

"You'll find out," Zuko says cryptically, as he hits the main lights so that the only source of light in the apartment is Katara's electric candles. Suki fishes something out of her sleeve, which she hands to Toph and Zuko and not Sokka. He's starting to feel very excluded.

"Okay, seriously," he says. "What's happening?"

Zuko just shushes him, then gestures for him to follow as he, Suki and Toph all creep towards the balcony doors. The curtains are drawn, but the door itself is open, and a gentle breeze blows them inwards. Sokka can make out the silhouettes of Katara and Aang, backlit by the fairy lights on the balcony—since when did they have fairy lights out there?

He follows the others' lead as they all crouch down by the doors. Katara's speaking, her voice soft.

"...I love you," she's saying softly, and Sokka has to resist the urge to retch. "It'd make me the happiest woman in the world if I could spend the rest of my life with you." There's a rustling of fabric, and then a choked sound from Aang. "Aang, will you be my forever boy?"

What.

What.

Sokka barely registers the sound of Aang tearfully saying yes, followed by Suki and Toph erupting onto the balcony with cheers and loud popping sounds. He stumbles out after them, gaping, and sees Katara laughing as Aang sweeps her up in a hug. A betrothal necklace swings from Aang's hand, except—

Except the ribbon is yellow. And Sokka knows what the necklace Aang made looks like. He's stared at it countless times over the past few months. It doesn't look like that. The pendant doesn't have an arrow on it, and—and the pendant is soapstone, not glossy wood like this one—

"CONGRATULATIONS!" Toph bellows from beside him, and Sokka flinches away from her. "Knew he'd say yes!"

What.

Sokka processes the scene bit by bit. First: the balcony, adorned with fairy lights. Second: Suki and Toph, scattering confetti over the happy couple. Third: Zuko with his camera, snapping away. And, finally: the happy couple themselves, Katara and Aang, staring at each other like there's nothing more important in the world, and the yellow-ribboned betrothal necklace that Aang did not carve. All of these point towards one conclusion.

Katara proposed.

More importantly: Katara proposed, and Sokka didn't know.

"You—" Sokka splutters, as Katara turns her beaming face on him. "You!"

"Me," Katara agrees, still smiling, and wraps her arms around him in a hug. Sokka returns it instinctively, before he pulls back and shakes Katara by the shoulders.

"YOU!" he repeats, incoherent with shock. "KATARA!"

"I would've told you, but then you would've told Aang five minutes later," she says, and kisses him on the cheek. "Don't worry, you can be my best man at the wedding."

"Hey, no fair!" Aang says. He's crying openly, and a stressed-looking Zuko is handing him tissues, but he's also grinning from ear to ear. "I want Sokka as my best man!"

"He's my brother," Katara says back. There's a wet sheen to her eyes, too, and Sokka realises: his baby sister just got engaged. "Get your own."

"Fine," Aang says, and grabs Zuko's face with both hands. Zuko makes a high-pitched sound and looks vaguely panicked. "Zuko, will you be my best man?" 

Before Zuko can say anything, Aang's eyes fill with fresh tears. "I'm going to have a best man," he says, "because I'm getting married." He lets go of Zuko to wipe at his face. Sokka watches, bewildered, as Zuko goes right back to handing him tissues.

Then Katara steps away to hug Suki and Toph, and to accept a kiss on the cheek from the former. Sokka looks at them, and he sees the empty handheld party poppers in Suki and Toph's hands, and how they're not surprised at all...and something clicks.

"You KNEW!" Sokka screeches, pointing an accusing finger at Suki, and then another accusing finger at Toph. Toph is too busy cackling to answer, but Suki just rolls her eyes.

"Obviously I knew," she says. "We all knew. You're the only one who didn't. Well, you and Aang."

The words take a moment to sink in, but, when they do, Sokka feels a chill go over him.

He turns, slowly, to look at Zuko. Zuko looks back at him. His face is undeniably guilty.

"You too?" Sokka whispers. Zuko swallows and holds up his hands—and, yes, there's another party popper there, in the hand that isn't full of tissues. And he has his camera too—his camera that he'd inexplicably brought, because he knew.

"Sokka, I'm sorry—"

"Traitor," Sokka says, and pounces.

They go down in a mess of confetti and tissues. Sokka gives Zuko a second to pawn the camera off to Aang and out of harm's way, but after that? It's a free-for-all. Zuko squirms under Sokka's grasp, but Sokka is fuelled by pure rage, and he gets the upper hand in a matter of seconds. He sits on Zuko's chest, effectively pinning him, and starts his attack: tickling.

"Sokka, no—" Zuko breaks off with a wheeze.

"I trusted you!" Sokka shouts. "I ate your cookies! Your treason cookies!"

Zuko lets out a sound like a deflating balloon in response. Ah, Sokka's found that one spot on his side that's ticklish as hell. He attacks mercilessly.

"My own sister was proposing, and you didn't tell me! My own sister!"

"You tell Aang everything!" 

"Enough from you, traitor!" 

Zuko tries to get out by rolling sideways, but Sokka's had more than enough experience with wrestling squirmy friends and little sisters, so he wraps his arms around Zuko and rolls with him. 

"And to think I was going to ask you out this week!" Sokka yells, when they make a full circle and he can sit on top of Zuko again. "Betrayal! Betrayal of the highest order!"

He goes to tickle Zuko's side again, but Zuko's suddenly gone freakishly still beneath him. Sokka pauses and glances at his face, just to make sure he didn't accidentally knock him out or anything, but Zuko just looks like someone's hit him over the head.

"Zu? You good?"

"You were going to ask me out?" Zuko asks, his voice strange, and Sokka freezes.

Did he say that? Oh, spirits, he did. He said he was going to ask Zuko out. He told Zuko he was going to ask him out.

All the blood drains from Sokka's face. He and Zuko just stare at each other for a moment, neither of them breathing a word.

"Sokka, I swear," Katara says, her voice breaking through Sokka's daze, "if you hijack my proposal day with your Thing With Zuko—"

"I won't!" Sokka yelps, scrambling off Zuko.

"What do you mean, thing with Zuko?" Zuko asks Katara, his voice turning sharp. Sokka buries his face in his hands.

"Let's—talk about this later," he says. "At home. Please."

A beat of silence. "Okay," Zuko says, and Sokka sags with relief. At least now he has a bit of time to consider how his life has just fallen apart. He lifts his head and sees Zuko looking at him with an expression he's never seen before.

There's a small stretch of awkward silence. Then Aang clears his throat and offers Zuko his camera back. "Here's your baby," he says. "Not a scratch on her."

Zuko takes the camera absently. "Thanks, Aang," he says, his voice still holding some odd quality to it. "Uh. You guys want some more engagement photos? With the necklace on, maybe?"

Aang jumps at the opportunity, and with something to do, Zuko relaxes back into acting normal. Sokka doesn't. Zuko focuses on taking pictures, and Sokka focuses on Zuko. He drinks in the sight of him, unable to shake the feeling that this is the last time he'll ever get to see Zuko be normal around him again.

Toph punches him in the arm. "I can literally hear you freaking out, you mouth-breather," she says, as Sokka lets out a hiss of pain. "You worry too much. It'll be fine."

"You don't know that," Sokka snaps. Toph snorts.

"We've all been telling you to ask him out for ages," she says. "You think we'd do that if we didn't think it'd be okay?"

She moves away after that, to give Katara a rare non-punchy hug, but Sokka just stands there, her words echoing in his head. He trusts his friends—they wouldn't ever tell him to do anything that would hurt him. And they know him, and they know Zuko, so if they all think that it's a good idea for him to ask Zuko out, then maybe...

Maybe they're right. Maybe they've been right this whole time.

He meets Zuko's eyes across the balcony. In the twinkling glow of the fairy lights, he looks like a dream. There's a soft kind of tilt to his eyes, to the line of his mouth. Sokka knows that expression: he sees it every time Zuko looks at him. He's never thought too much about it before, but...

What do you look like when you're in love, Sokka had wondered of him weeks ago, and now he wonders if maybe he's known the answer to that question all along.

Maybe—just maybe—Sokka's been an idiot.

The car ride home is silent.

Neither of them speak. The streetlights pass over them in flashes of yellow light. Zuko is fiddling with his camera strap.

They make it all the way up to the apartment before saying anything. Zuko reaches for the door before Sokka can, unlocking it and holding it out.

"After you," he says. Sokka swallows and walks inside.

The apartment is dark, lit only by the soft moonlight from the living room window. They forgot to draw the curtains before they left. Sokka toes off his shoes as the door shuts behind him.

There's the faint creaking of wood, and Sokka turns around. Zuko is leaning on the door, his arms crossed, his eyes fixed on Sokka. His expression is unreadable.

"So," he says.

"So," Sokka echoes. He doesn't turn on the light. This conversation feels safer to have in the dark.

Zuko takes a deep breath. "You were going to ask me out," he says. Sokka clenches his hand, lets the pain of his nails digging into his palm ground him.

"It was a bet," he says, and Zuko inhales, so he adds sharply, "Not like that. The bet was that if Katara passed her bar, I'd have to...ask you out. Finally do something about my feelings."

There: it's out in the open now, and Sokka can't take it back. He watches Zuko carefully, but Zuko's face doesn't give anything away. He usually wears his heart on his sleeve—why is it now, of all times, that he decides to develop a poker face?

"Your feelings?" Zuko repeats.

Sokka breathes in. Breathes out. Braces himself for the end.

"My romantic feelings," he says. "For you."

For a long moment, Zuko says nothing. Then he moves, a shadow in the dark, pushing off the door and stepping forward into Sokka's space.

"You," he repeats, his voice little more than a breath, a brush of warm air on Sokka's skin, "have romantic feelings? For me?"

Sokka swallows. "Look, I get it if—if you don't want to be friends after this," he says. "Or if you want to find another roommate. I just—I like you, okay, like that, and I know it probably makes you uncomfortable so I swear I won't bring it up again and—"

Zuko kisses him.

It's forceful enough that Sokka stumbles back a step, but Zuko catches him by the collar and reels him back in. It's just pressure, lips on lips, warmth on warmth, and Sokka's brain goes entirely offline as he tries to process. Right as he starts to kiss back, Zuko pulls away.

"I like you too," he says, the words fast and tripping over themselves, like if he doesn't say it now he'll never be able to again. "I—for so long, Sokka, I've liked you for ages—"

"Me too," Sokka repeats, because that's as much as he can say right now, what with his brain exploding and all. He stares at Zuko, his eyes bright in the darkness of their shared hallway, and his mouth moves without any input from his head. "Kiss me again? Please?"

Zuko does.

One month after Katara passes her bar exam, Sokka asks Zuko out. Zuko, miraculously, says yes.