Archive of Our Own

   Sokka.

Please come to visit. It's been too long.

    Yours,
           Zuko.

>>>>

The small fire nation ship that was sent to gather Sokka from the Southern Water Tribe docks just outside Caldera City. Sokka runs down the ramp of the ship before it's completely fastened into place, dropping his bags onto the dock without a second thought.

The palace wasn't a long way from the docks, so he—

"Greetings, most honored guest!" Iroh, dressed to the nines in Fire Nation robes, bows to Sokka just a few feet away.

"Uncle Iroh!" The boy foregoes the bow and grapples him into a hug. "It's good to see you too, where's—"

"Sokka!"

Zuko's voice seizes his attention instantaneously. Sokka's running past Iroh without a second thought (although he looks anything but offended).

Zuko barely catches them, stumbling back when Sokka barrels into him. Sokka registers the guards behind Zuko stiffening, hands gripping their spears just a little tighter.

After a hug that definitively was too long, Sokka pulls away, looking down at his best friend, arms lingering around his waist. He's wearing Fire Lord robes, head piece glistening sharp in the sun.

"Hey," Zuko smiles, tilts his head to the side.

"Hey." Sokka grins.

"It's been too long," He says.

"I heard. I didn't know if six months was long enough, but I was about to send a similar letter begging for an invitation."

Zuko glances away, thick hair falling over his shoulders. "You don't need an invitation."

"Damn. I should've come sooner. Do you realize how much free breakfast and room service I could've been getting this whole time?" Sokka laughs, infecting Zuko with quiet giggles. Sokka turns his gaze to Iroh, finally releasing his hold. "You guys didn't have to come all the way down here just to greet me."

"Ah, please, it was really no trouble at all." Iroh waves at him. "Besides, it was my nephew's—"

Zuko flushes bright red and grabs Sokka's arm, drags him towards the Palace gates. "Come on! Let's just get inside. I'll show you the guest room."

>>>>

"You mind if I do your hair?"

"Oh, uh," Zuko looks at Sokka through the mirror, twisting his hair tie between his fingers. "Sure."

"You think anyone will care if I add a braid in there?"

"They won't. Not to my face, anyway."

Sokka takes the hair tie from him with a smile.

>>>>

The full moon is almost blinding. Sokka tries not to stare at it too long, sitting in the palace garden with a Pai Sho table in front of him, a cool breeze ruffling a stack of papers between his fingers.

Iroh had written several pages of rules for the game, which Sokka immediately took to studying after losing dozens of games to him.

He jumps ten feet in the air when Zuko appears next to him, stripping off a few layers of his formal robes and dropping them into the grass beside him. He's smiling, taking deep breaths through his mouth, sweats beading along his skin.

"Sokka! Walk with me."

"Uh, sure," Sokka places a few heavy tiles on top of the paper. "Where..." Zuko sheds the rest of his robes, leaving his simple pants and tunic. "Are we... going?"

"Into town. The market is a staple in any tour of Caldera city— I'm ashamed I haven't shown you yet." Zuko takes his hand, glances behind them, and starts running.

"But— but I've only been here— like, two days!" Sokka struggles to keep up with him.

Zuko doesn't answer, and doesn't seem to want to until they've successfully ran out the back entrance of the palace usually reserved for when the Fire Lord needs to make a secret emergency exit.

The town's market comes into view rather quickly, Sokka is suddenly thrust into a crowd of strangers, a sea of red and grey cloth, only Zuko's hand tight around his keeping him moving.

Zuko pulls them down an alley, and finally lets go of Sokka's hand. He doubles over, catching his breath, looking up just to see Zuko scaling a pile of crates and fence post.

"Gimme.... A .... Second!" Sokka heaves, moving towards the fence anyways.

"We're almost there, come on," Zuko grins. It makes Sokka's insides twist up, and he's suddenly grappling onto the first box he can reach to follow him.

The roof is... scary. Sokka doesn't like balancing on a thin beam, until Zuko pulls him down to sit instead. After that air-ship-stunt he pulled with Toph and Suki, balancing above great heights wasn't his favorite activity.

"There, right there, look," Zuko places a hand on his shoulder and turns him to look at the horizon. "Do you see it?"

"No, I—"

A small, barely there, orange light drifts up into the dark sky. "Oh. Yeah, I do. What is that, a lantern?"

"Fire bug."

"Those are real!?" Sokka shouts, and Zuko clamps his palm over his mouth.

"Don't wake these people up. They're being so generous as to lend us their roof," Zuko whispers.

More orange lights drift up, and down, and circle in the air around them. Sokka has the urge to reach out and catch one, but they seem too delicate. He settles to hold his fingers outstretched until one gently touches his finger and flickers comfortably.

"You brought me up here to see some bugs?" Sokka asks softly, finding Zuko's gaze in the dark.

"No. I was helping you."

"Oh yeah? How so?" The bug jumps from his hand.

"Well... you did just commit treason. They'll be wanting to execute you." Zuko shrugs lightly.

Sokka's eye twitches. "What treason did I commit, exactly?"

"Ah, you see, the Fire Lord was just about to attend an important meeting about budgeting with the most boring ambassadors of all time, when suddenly, that stranger from the Southern Water Tribe kidnapped him from the palace," He recounts. His head does that tilting-to-the-side thing again. "They even found his robes by the very Pai Sho table The tribesman was last seen..."

"You— I— You just wanted to play hooky from a budget meeting!?" Sokka feigns a gasp.

Zuko shrugs, his smile fading slightly. "Yeah. It sounded pretty awful. And I'll make sure you won't actually get executed."

Sokka nudges him. "I'd hope not. You're the Fire Lord." When Zuko glances back, "And my captive."

He scoffs. Silence. Sokka tries to think of another joke.

"I wish I wasn't, sometimes," Zuko mumbles, barely audible.

Sokka leans his head back, staring up at the moon. "I get that."

"You do?"

"Yeah... I... Okay, I never... I guess I never really thought about it, but being Chief... It didn't ever suit me." He shrugs, too. "Eh... After Aang, I found out I loved traveling everywhere. Helping people."

"Yeah, me too. For the... small amount of time I had it."

"You remember the North Pole?"

Zuko cringes. "How could I forget following a Tiger-Seal through a tunnel of freezing water? Ugh."

"You..." He flounders. "But... Tiger-Seals can hold their breath for two hours. Are you stupid?"

"More like... recklessly determined."

"We're coming back to this, by the way," Sokka narrows his eyes, but his words lacks any malice. He shifts back to look at the moon. "When you weren't almost drowning, did you remember seeing a girl? With white hair?"

Zuko nods. "She ran from the Oasis when I fought Katara. Do you know her?"

"I knew her, yeah."

"I'm sorry." A warm hand touches his forearm. "Did she die in the siege?"

"Kind of. Her name was Yue, p-"

"Princess of the Northern Water Tribe," Zuko finishes, eyes wide. "I didn't realize she..."

"Well, she did." He deadpans. "She sacrificed herself. To save the moon spirit."

"Oh."

Zuko follows Sokka's gaze to the sky.

"Oh! That's what you were talking about!?"

"She didn't want to. But she knew she had to," Sokka continues, giving a slight nod. "For her people. I would've done anything to stop it. I didn't care that the moon spirit was dead— I wish she... I don't know. Sorry. I kinda lost my point."

"No, it's alright," He says, sounding rather resigned. "I kinda get it. Sometimes, you have to do stuff you don't want to."

"No, no, I don't think that's what I meant," Sokka turns, almost sliding off the roof in his haste. "I don't think you should have to run a nation at age seventeen. I think you should be sneaking out, annoying your uncle, being angsty—"

"I'm not angsty anym-"

Sokka grabs his hands. "You should be fucking around with your friends and falling in love with whoever you want to, and— and making mistakes, Tui and La, you should make mistakes! I don't know how we ended up throwing the weight of completely deconstructing a genocidal, dictatorial regime and replacing it with something else entirely onto the shoulders of a teenager, but I think it's entirely fucked, and I'm so sorry."

Zuko blinks. He wrenches his hands away— just for a moment, Sokka thinks he's over stepped. But Zuko pulls him into a tight hug.

"Thank you, Sokka."

>>>>

"What's that big tall tower?"

Zuko doesn't bother looking out the window Sokka is leaning on. "Caldera City Prison. Holds treasonous criminals."

"Oh. But. Really? So close to the palace? Wasn't your dad worried about someone escaping?"

Zuko gives him an incredulous glance. "And do what? Fight him? Trust me, there's no point."

>>>>

"Zuko!"

Sokka bangs on his doors, much to the guards chagrin, but they stay unmoving and rigid. Zuko opens his heavy door slowly, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his palm and yawning.

"What..?"

"I won! I won Pai Sho against your Uncle!" Sokka yells, arms up in the air. "He ate shit! I won!"

Zuko laughs quietly at that, leaning on the door. "You what?"

"I won!" Sokka grabs Zuko around the waist, hauling him over his shoulder and dancing them around in circles despite Zuko's weak attempts to fight back.

The guards look extra tense as Sokka sets him back on his feet, taking in ragged breaths.

"Congrats, Socks," Zuko says, tapping his fingers against Sokka's shoulders. "I knew you had it in you."

"You shouldn't call me that, I might start calling you Zuzu," Sokka teases. The sparkle in his eye reignites, "I have to go boast to him again— thank you for your continued support in these matters, your Majesty."

"Of course." Zuko smiles. Looks up through heavy lashes, eyes half-lidded from a sleep cut short.

Sokka licks his lips. Man. He kind of, really wants to kiss Zuko right now. "Right. Okay. See you. Tomorrow."

Sokka lets go of him, stumbling backward to the doors, and lets out a breath the moment they click behind him. Fuck.

>>>>

"Here! I got you some food," Sokka sets a plate of roast duck and rice on his desk. "I went to the dining hall, and the chef said you never showed up. Made you this, though."

"Ah—" Zuko looks down, smiling timidly, but takes the plate anyway. "Thanks."

Zuko sets it on the far end of his desk, looking back at his work.

"Sooo.... you gonna eat that? Or leave it over there?"

"Um," He pushes hair behind his ears, his left only holding a few strands. "No. I probably should've specified my dietary preferences to the new Chef when I hired him."

"Oh. Do you not like duck?"

"No, I guess not— it's more like, I'm a vegetarian," Zuko blushes, glaring at his work, perhaps hoping to look busy.

Sokka smiles. "Just like Aang! That's gr— hey, wait, how come you never told us!?"

"Uh, well, I sort of had to leave it behind while I was starving as a refugee. But now that I'm here... I figured..."

"You know, Aang remained on diet our entire journey," Sokka scoots closer on the ottoman. "We could've figured something out."

"Didn't wanna be a bother," Zuko shrugs. Then, he looks frustrated. "I'm not trying to say, that I think I'm a bother, or anything. I just thought we all had enough on our plates— don't laugh at that— with the end of the world thing."

"Well! You're wrong. And I hope you're ready to deal with the consequences of your self-sacrifice when Aang comes to visit next, cause I'm totally telling."

"I thought self-sacrifice wasn't supposed to have more consequences..." Zuko grumbles.

>>>>

Sokka goes home, just a day later, and he wonders why so much of his heart is left in the Fire Nation.

>>>>

The next day, the news that Fire lord Zuko had been assassinated lands at Sokka's feet in a neatly-bow-tied scroll.

>>>>

'Burned beyond recognition.'

Sokka might throw up.

>>>>

Ah, he'd never get to hug Zuko again. Never get to laugh with him again.

>>>>

Sokka would bet he cries himself to sleep more often than not. Even Bato is worried about how much he's crying. Everyone knows he's a crybaby.

>>>>

Katara's worried. Sokka ignores her. She's always worried.

>>>>

Sokka's ignoring Katara now. She had the gall to suggest him being the ambassador for the Southern Water Tribe— which meant living in the Fire Nation Palace.

To live in the same place where— and to think— walking past his room daily— Iroh's depressed stature and sad smile, always there, always reminding him—

Sokka can't believe his sister would even think about suggesting it.

But, Sokka realizes, the suggestion might've given him the most emotion he'd felt in months.

>>>>

He thinks about being an ambassador. But, then, Aang needs him. Something about representing the Avatar while he's busy... actually being the Avatar in more important places.

Sokka travels to the Earth Kingdom, lives with Toph for a month, then he's off, traveling to small villages and slightly larger towns and solving small political disputes.

It's boring. It's monotonous. It's killing him from the inside out. But he doesn't know what else to do.

>>>>

The one year anniversary of...

Well, it hurt a lot more than Sokka was expecting.

>>>>

He knows what else to do. He writes Iroh that week, inquiring about a position to work as Ambassador for the Southern Water Tribe.

And... To work remotely.

Iroh graciously accepts, sending a letter saying as such, and Sokka pins it to the wall of his old bedroom in the ice hut. He thinks his mom would be proud.

>>>>

Sokka receives the next letter from Iroh's favorite messenger hawk, which he catches as it struggles to land in his balloon.

He'd already been on his way to the fire nation to discuss plans about a band of rogue fire benders that had reportedly been mugging and burning several citizens of a small Earth village. It wasn't easy, a lot of benders had wholeheartedly pledged their allegiance to Ozai and his family's legacy, and with Aang busy trying to build his 'new big awesome' city... Sokka was sort of representative for the Avatar.

So, receiving a letter from the man he'd see in less than 4 hours was, to say the least, concerning.

The letter is short. His eyes skim the scribbled mess on the parchment. He reads the five words over and over and over until his brain catches up with his vision.

     Sokka,

Zuko is alive.

     Iroh

The scroll fell from his grip, the winds carried it to the sea below.

Zuko is alive.

It should've taken three hours to get to the fire nation.

Zuko is alive.

Sokka was there in one.

A year. A whole year and five months since Zuko died— went missing, Sokka corrected. Although, he wasn't entirely sure, until he could have his hands on him, set his eyes on every inch of his skin, and breathe in that familiar, smokey ambrosial scent he carried. Sokka shook his head. That sounded weird.

The tall, vast gates of the Palace's pillars ablaze shone through the clouds, and Sokka steered his balloon into descent.

To him, and the rest of the world, Zuko had died from the sixteenth assassination attempt that year.

For one long year, after Zuko had died in his room, leaving nothing but blood soaked sheets, a broken window, a charred corpse just next to it, Sokka trudged through the daily motions, lit a candle every night in respect, laid in his bed sobbing for hours on his birthday... Zuko was placed right back where he perished.

His vessel barely got a chance to touch the landing platform before Sokka leapt out from the basket with a hefty burst of energy. He hit the ground running, his sword and bags clattering onto the pavement behind him.

The royal guards, hesitant to stop Zuko's closest friend (not that they could, Sokka wasn't sure if anything could stop him), remained stiff along the corridors.

The halls are winding and confusing and far too tall and they're all red. The striking paintings of past Fire-Lords (and one Phoenix king, albeit his short reign) run up the walls and glimmer in the torch light distractingly. He's not looking where he's going and he runs right into—

"Oh!" Sokka bounces backwards from the impact, falling on his ass.

"Ambassador Sokka!" Iroh's face is as kind as ever, his hands clasped inside his heavy sleeves. Two royal guards stand behind him perfectly alert. "We were not exp—"

"Where is he?"

Iroh blinks, smiles, a worry line creasing between his brows. "In his old quarters, up the central stairs, take a left, a right, and the fourth door at the end of the corridor— but please, you must know, he is not the same young man we—"

Sokka's brushing past him with a call of 'thank you!' and a hand that ruffles Iroh's neatly tied hair. The Fire-lord sighs, shakes his head lightly.

He has so many things to tell Zuko. I missed you. It's been so lonely without you. Sokka blushes, perhaps that's a little too forthcoming. I've been being responsible— making political moves and public speeches. Ambassador stuff. By the way, I'm an Ambassador now. For about three months. I love you. I finally beat Katara at this game she came up with— she calls it chess. It's really complicated. I like Pai Sho better. Also, I love you. Toph started a metal bending school, and she has a few students. She misses you a lot. Everyone does. I love you so much. Aang made a whole city in your honor. It's called Republic City. He spends a lot of time there. I love you so much I can't believe I ever lived without you.

Sokka shoves the doors open, almost off their hinges, they hit the walls with a loud thud. All of the heartfelt thoughts and clever words he had are sucked out of his mind like the breath out of his chest. 

Zuko is sitting on the edge of his bed. He's jumped about ten feet in the air—his golden eyes are wide and now they're just staring at each other. Silence. Sokka wonders if either of them have inhaled yet. He certainly hasn't. 

Zuko is— he's different. Sokka can feel it, he supposes the best explanation would be if Ty-Lee said his aura had eroded and weathered away, despite how adamant he is that auras aren't a real thing.

His hair is short and choppy, it reminds him of their (tense) time in Ba Sing Se.

But the most staggering difference— Zuko is blinking tears out of his good eye, and Sokka can't even remember the last time he'd seen Zuko cry, an overwhelming need to help him, save him, protect and bring him back engulfs his whole being, and his feet are carrying him across the room.

Sokka gathers Zuko into a bone-crushing hug, arms fitting tight around his waist. Zuko's arms hesitate at his sides. Sokka squeezes him, some sort of permission, and  suddenly they're embracing like there isn't a day to follow this one.

Zuko's now delicate fingers twist into the fabric of his tunic, and he's silently sobbing into his collarbone, and Sokka can feel his heart tearing deep inside his rib cage.

Something is wrong— very wrong, and he thinks he'd do anything to find out who did this. It's scaring him. He feels a blood boiling rush to kill anyone who's ever had even half a mind to hurt Zuko.

But he's here. He wasn't burned to death, writhing in pain for this last moments and breaths of life, fighting back for hope that anyone could save him. He didn't realize, like Sokka had ruminated on for months, that no one had heard the break in, and no one was coming to save him. No one would find him— not him— until that morning.

Zuko can't seem to fight the exhaustion anymore, letting it take the reigns and falling asleep on the floor, in Sokka's arms.

>>>>

If you asked Sokka to describe his best friend, it'd go something like this:

"Zuko? Where do I even start? His rough-and-tough exterior might mislead you. I promise— his passion and determination and strength knows no bounds. He used to be kinda angsty and obnoxious. But he grew out of it— matured? He's kind hearted, loyal, compassionate, he's really good at listening... Well, good at listening to your troubles, he's not very good at listening to authority. Very stubborn, likes to do things his way or not at all. I think it's endearing. His hands are warm. I guess that makes sense, though. He's a fire bender. A really good one. But he's also amazing with swords. In fact, he's the reason I even started sword fighting. He taught me everything I know— back when we were sixteen, getting ready to win a whole war with the Avatar. But he doesn't think he's a good bender. Well, he doesn't think he's a lot of things. But he is. He's got a pure heart. He carries himself with such pure, unadulterated confidence and sureness— it makes sense for the prince of the fire nation. It's inspiring, I guess. His smile is beautiful— not that I think he's beautiful— well, he is, but I don't— he's—" (Usually at that point Sokka starts tripping over his words and talks himself into a corner.)

Now, if you asked... Sokka wouldn't know what to say.

Sokka knows he's supposed to be different. Anyone would have to be, after what happened.
But the year he spent mourning his best friend, the Zuko he'd so easily praise for hours when asked, the Zuko who's passing mention brought an onslaught of tears and nightmares, the Zuko who's funeral he'd attended— and couldn't speak at. That Zuko. He'd been alive. He'd been through some sort of suffering— that much anyone could see.

But Sokka knew his best friend like he was supposed to know himself. Where it could take a few moments to list Sokka's own favorite color or his favorite pastime, how much milk he liked in his tea, his favorite brand of ink— The answers for Zuko's were tumbling out the seal of his lips the moment you asked.

But now, Sokka wondered if any of it was still true. Maybe Zuko didn't favor the color blue anymore. What if he didn't like to draw anymore? Perhaps he liked tea without an excessive amount of milk, now. He even looked different.

It wasn't just his hair, or the way his clothes fit far too loose, or the thin scar sliced rough along his neck. His cheekbones were hallowed, eyes dark and almost soulless.

Just like he'd seen when they first reunited, he felt different. Zuko's usual broad stance of overbearing pride, replaced by a new slouching, shaking posture. His hands, thin and pale, tremble at his sides nervously.

Sokka's heart strained every time they saw each-other. Every time Sokka saw him. Zuko barely made eye contact anymore. The only time he'd been able to manage it was when they first reunited.

Sokka wonders... sometimes, despite the crippling shame and guilt it leaves in his stomach, he wonders, if this is better than thinking he was dead.

>>>>

Zuko is... stagnant. He's wearing an old tunic with thick sleeves that bunch at his elbows. His coat drags behind him as he walks the garden pathways.

Sokka finds him there, in front of that small pond, face tilted up with closed eyes and basking in the warmth of the evening sun.

He steps loud on the wooden walkways, alerting the prince of his presence before gracefully vaulting over the railing to reach the yard. It startles him anyways, and he gives Sokka an apologetic bow.

"Hey," He says in that subdued, understanding voice he'd learned from Aang. "What'cha doing?"

Zuko's expression stays neutral. "There used to be turtle ducks here." He turns towards Sokka, eyes still on the pond. "I was just taking a walk."

Sokka nods. "I came to tell you— your uncle requested you in the throne room."

Zuko tilts his head slightly. "That's all?"

Sokka skims his memory. "Uh, yeah, he didn't say why or anything."

His golden eyes, dull, trace shapes into the ground, and Sokka watches his jaw clench. "No— no, that's... that's all you came for?"

The old Zuko... well, the entire interaction would've been different from the start, but at this point, he might've bowed and thanked his friend for his service, and left to see his uncle without a second thought.

"No," He smiles. "I like to see you anyway."

"Then why did you say it?"

Sokka's smile falters.

Zuko was terrified of where he stood with those remaining of his old life. His uncle, his friends— Katara, Toph, Aang, Suki, his best friend, Sokka.

It was in such antithesis of Zuko's character and soul that Sokka doesn't bother to feel slighted by it. If Zuko needed reassurance of his importance to him, he would give him whatever he needed.

"It's just something people say," Sokka can feel the pity that Zuko hates starting to percolate from his words and he takes a deep breath. "I promise, Zuzu."

His attempt at a joke works, Zuko smiles (barely, but it's there) and bows to Sokka. He's quick to bow back, offering a dopey grin and a pat on the shoulder.

The prince leaves to speak to the Fire Lord.

Sokka sits by the pond for a long while, until darkness settles near the horizon and he peels himself away from the mossy shoreline.

>>>>

Iroh finds him just as the stars settle into the deep obsidian sky. "Ambassador Sokka. Pai sho, perhaps?"

"Please."

>>>>

The skies stretch endless nights into days and nights again and again, Iroh rambles about the inevitable normalcy in the coming days, and Sokka lays on the guest bed in the room adjacent to Zuko's and stares at the ceiling until the windows darken and Zuko lays next to him, wordless. Silent, calm, facing away and shrouded in covers, and everything feels perfect and normal until Zuko wakes up gasping, screaming from another nightmare, and Sokka doesn't have to ask what it's about.

His father. The war. His friends. His past. Whatever happens that night he was 'assassinated' and the years following it. The circumstances he can't seem to fully grasp. But despite the aggravating fact, Sokka rests a gentle hand between his shoulder blades until he lays back down. Silence.

"Sokka?" Zuko asks one night, standing timid in that door way, figure framed by a small flame in his palm.

Sokka sits up in bed, rubbing one eye and barely managing to hold the covers up for him. "Come on," he yawns. He'd been waiting, just like every night, for Zuko to wander back to the guest bedroom and crawl under the covers, and press his nose into Sokka's thick fur coat just to fall asleep.

And just like every night, he does. A few moments of blissful silence, the warmth radiating from Zuko is lulling Sokka even further into peaceful sleep, until—

"Are you going to leave us soon?" It's so hushed that Sokka barely hears him.

And, he can't tell if he's serious, so he sits up. They exchange a silent conversation through expression— Sokka looks offended at the implication, but upon realizing Zuko was simply seeking assurance, he fails to mask it in time and then Zuko notices and everything goes downhill.

The air settled between them is suddenly stiff. Zuko shrinks away, and Sokka can see that tell-tale fear in his eyes that reminds him of an animal cornered.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Sokka says soft into the night.

"I didn't— I didn't think so."

"You don't sound entirely confident in me." He frowns.

Zuko shrinks again. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to."

Sokka has half the mind to stop now, when it's easy to back down and not feel at complete loss. But he grips onto the idea of a break through with all of his being.

"Will you tell me why you're afraid of me?" He asks, quiet.

"I don't think that's fair," Zuko answers, quieter. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Zuko."

He stares at the sheets.

"Sunshine." He tries. Somehow it's enough to make him look up, at Sokka's collar.

His expression is upset. Not scared anymore— maybe just guilt. Sokka doesn't let him wallow in it.

"I was serious, you know," He says slowly. "I would never hurt you. I— I hate whatever has happened to you."

Zuko takes a moment to gather his words again. "I'm not afraid of you."

Sokka connects their hands between them. Zuko doesn't flinch at the contact and instead gives him a light squeeze. His chest hurts.

"Okay. I believe you." He says. "You just... You looked..."

"Scared. Yeah. Uncle says I look like that a lot now." He raises his brow and sighs in defeat. "I'm afraid of messing up. After... everything... I don't want you to..." A faint blush rises in his face. "I... can't word it."

"I understand."

"Of course you do." Zuko remarks, although there's no malice in the words. "You always do."

"I am your bestest friend ever. And the official Ambassador for the Southern Water Tribe. And also not-as-official representative for the Avatar. It's kind of my job." Sokka runs his fingers over Zuko's knuckles soothingly, maintaining his one sided eye contact. "And you don't have to worry about me... disliking you. Or you messing up. I'm not leaving, and, even if your uncle wasn't fire lord he wouldn't be leaving either. Ever." Sokka gently pulls his hand up, presses a kiss to his knuckles. "Everything you're repeating in your head, I was there too. And I was also there when I forgave you for it."

Zuko slides his gaze up, and up, further and further until they lock eyes. Sokka smiles at him. He smiles back, and Sokka thinks it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"There you are." He pushes a loose hair away from Zuko's forehead. "I missed you."

Zuko blinks a few times and looks away, still smiling. Progress, Sokka reminds himself, is progress.

"I don't know what else is going on in there," He taps his thumb to Zuko's temple. "I hope you know you could tell me anything, and I wouldn't mind. This past year... I've— I've come to be more appreciative of things once lost."

"Me too." It's veiled with concentrated control, eyes boring a hole into Sokka's collar. "I— I... missed you. I thought... maybe that... we'd never..."

See each other again.

Sokka's hands cupped firmly around his bolster Zuko's confidence. Despite every word being painful to force from his throat, he trudges through.

"Being constantly... under threat of being—" Zuko stumbles, closing his eyes and reeling his thoughts back in. "It just reminded me. Of everything I did. When they found me. I was—"

Sokka doesn't need him to finish that sentence, he already knows how the Royal Guard had found him.

"It's okay." He whispers. "I understand."

"I can't... lose... all of this, again," Zuko says. "I can't."

"You won't. I promise. I can't lose all of this again either. I'd do... anything to keep it," He presses his thumb to the dark shadows beneath Zuko's eyes. "You should sleep. It's late."

"Will you stay?"

In this bed? Tonight. Tomorrow morning. The next night. Every night and every morning and every midday nap and every sick day. In the palace? As long as you need me to. As long as you want me to. By your side?

"Forever."

>>>>

Zuko keeps his hands together. All the time. His right hand goes to push hair behind his ears, his left isn't far to follow, even if he seems to scold himself and drop it.

Sokka doesn't like the implication, just like he didn't like the raw pink and bloodied skin around his wrists that first night. Everything, though, feels helpless. He doesn't know what to do.

>>>>

Zuko's face is filling out. Just like the rest of him. But his cheeks round when he smiles at one of Sokka's jokes, and he doesn't look like a skeleton anymore, and progress is progress.

>>>>

"Here. I got this for you."

A bowl of rice soaked in whatever sauce the chef had given him slides across Zuko's desk. The prince stares down at it like he's never seen rice before.

Sokka sits on the ottoman next to Zuko. "I even got you chopsticks."

"Thank you."

Sokka tries to focus on the papers in his lap, skimming boring words written in boring black ink (his suggestion to use colored ink corresponding to the nations was dismissed rather quickly), while Zuko sat staring at a bowl of rice.

Sokka sets the boring papers to his side. "So. Gonna eat?"

"Yeah— yes, of course, I'm just— trying to— I can't—" He manages, just to give up and let out an exasperated sigh. "It's hard to explain. It's... complicated. You're going to think I'm crazy."

"Try me."

Zuko hesitates... Sokka scoots closer, and that seems like enough. "I can't use chopsticks."

"Aren't you a prin-"

"No! I mean... I know how. I can. But I just can't."

Sokka's brows crease his forehead with worry. "Okay, I'm... not really following."

"I don't know why, with some things, especially chop sticks, I pick them up, right hand... And then, suddenly, I have to pick them up the same way with my left. More times than my right hand, sometimes. My hands, they feel... uneven. Off kilter. And if I don't..." Zuko sighs again, looks away.

Sokka scratches at his chin. "That's fine."

"What? Really?"

"Yeah. I'll get you a spoon instead."

"Oh."

"Didn't remember spoons existed?" He teases.

"No, I just. I dunno."

"Are spoons the same? I can get a fork. Or a... knife? You could eat with your hands, too."

Zuko shrugs. "A spoon will be fine. Thank you."

"Bato does stuff like that."

"I'm unfamiliar, who—"

"My dad's.... friend. He does that too," Sokka gestures to the chopsticks. "But with other stuff. And he didn't step on lines. Anything segmented. Couldn't step on it. I never understood why, but I did understand it wasn't his fault."

Zuko eats a bit of rice, chews thoughtfully. "My father forced me to the family Physician dozens of times for it. Never really found an answer. My mom seemed to get it, though."

"She sounds like she was... good."

He nods fervently. "She was great." Zuko's resting his head in his hands, turned pointedly away from his best friend.

"My mom was like that, you know— super kind, understanding," Sokka tries. "It hurts when... My whole family was hurting. It's not... Agh. I don't know. I-It's not great, seeing your family in pain like that, either."

"I— I think," Zuko looks back. His eyes are glistening. "I think my— I think Ozai killed my mom, and— and I think Azula didn't really care."

Oh. Sokka thinks, but he's already gathered Zuko into his arms. That makes a lot of sense.

>>>>

"Join me?"

Sokka lifts his head from a thick stack of papers littered across  Zuko's desk. "Of course." Then, after he stands, "Where am I joining you, exactly?"

Zuko's lips lift at the corners barely. "Just a walk. Around the garden."

"At..." He glances to the candle by Zuko's bedside. "One O-Candle?"

His smile widens. "I thought I told you to stop calling it that."

"Well, you might have a higher rank than me, but you forget..." Sokka slings an arm around Zuko carefully, pushing them towards the door. "I get best friend privileges."

"And what does that include?"

"Well. For starters. I get to talk to you all day. I get to bother you all day."

"Hm. Aren't those the same thing?"

Sokka wrinkles his nose and barks out a laugh. They pass through the outer gate into the garden boardwalk, Zuko nodding to the guards.

Sokka steers them onto the cobble path towards the pond. "I get to steal food from you, I get to make terrible jokes in your direction, I get to crash in your room whenever I please, I get to play pai sho with your uncle—"

"You still play Pai Sho with my Uncle!?"

"Shush," Sokka presses a finger against his lips. "Yes. Sit."

Zuko glances around, seeming to finally register where they were. He tugs Sokka down with him, the pond only a few inches away.

"And. Finally. I get to ignore your stupid rules. Like not being allowed to say O-Candle."

"Well. You do a lot of other annoying stuff that you didn't include in that list." Zuko raises his brow and plucks a few strands of grass into Sokka's lap.

"Those are implied privileges." He smiles. "I have them. But they're just not written. Since it's so obvious I'm supposed to have them."

Zuko smiles wide, showing his bright teeth, and for a moment, Sokka thinks he might laugh.

>>>>

Sokka knows Caldera well enough. He avoids crowds in the midday rush, finds the address sprawled next to an ingredient list on a torn piece of paper.

His hand meets a solid steel handle and a door that cracks louder than his father's back.

"Welcome in."

"Oh, thanks," Sokka bows to the shop keeper. "Un— Ah, my friend sent me— well, recommended you. Said, uh, you might have these?" He sets the paper on the counter.

The old woman reads it, gives him a raised eyebrow, and smiles. "Yes. Of course. Give me a moment to get these for you."

Sokka leaves the shop with lighter pockets and heavier bags.

Zuko's asleep when he gets back— which could've been concerning, but the last few days had been rough in the sleeping area, so Sokka took what he could get.

Chamomile, vanilla, sugar, milk. Boil water, steep for five minutes, two tablespoons of sugar, four drops of vanilla. Sokka sips at it— fuck, he might get a toothache from how sweet it was.

He brings the tea, shakily and almost spilling, on an ornate serving tray into Zuko's room. His curtains are closed, bathing the room in warm deep hues of red.

"Zuko," Sokka says, setting the tray on the nightstand. "You awake? Or close to it?"

He brushes the mess of hair away from him, exposing that burning scar reaching into his scalp, and Zuko jolts awake at the touch.

"Oh— Sokka?" He squints, twisting onto his back. "What— why are you?"

Sokka brings the cup to his lips. "Drink this."

Zuko tries it tentatively (fair enough, Sokka was never good with tea). The moment the liquid hit his tongue, something like pain crosses his expression and Sokka thinks he might start crying right then and there. But the prince simply gulps the rest of the cup down and pats at his eyes.

"How did you..?"

"Your Uncle gave me the recipe. I hope it tasted okay."

Zuko passes him the cup. His fingers brush Sokka's, lingering. "Just like she used to make it."

>>>>

Sokka wakes up gasping. A nightmare. Fuck, he thought he'd finally gotten over this. Zuko was inches away from him.

He reaches across the mattress, letting Zuko subconsciously cradle his hand to his chest. Sokka curls towards him, and falls back asleep.

>>>>

"We should get those Turtle Ducks relocated back to the pond." Sokka suggests.

"While I appreciate the effort, Ambassador Sokka, I don't believe discussing the state of the Garden Pond is something Fire Lord Iroh is interested in hearing at such a-"

"Please, General Shen," Iroh holds a hand up, and looks to Sokka. "I think that's a wonderful idea, Ambassador Sokka. I regret the relocation, but now, perhaps, I will be grateful to see them."

>>>>

"Ah, fuck."

"What's wrong?" Zuko looks up from his position on the floor, laying flat on his stomach and several scrolls and ink bottles laid out in front of him. Despite claiming no ability to draw, he'd done numerous almost identical sketches of their friends from memory, and a few from Sokka making stupid faces across from him.

"I forgot about my tea," He sighs. "Now it's cold."

Zuko holds a hand out for it, and despite a weird glance, Sokka passes it over. A few moments loiter in silence, and just as Sokka's gearing up to say something, steam billows from the cup.

"Oh, cool..." He mumbles, staring at Zuko's concentrated expression, glaring at his tea cup like it's the one who removed the roses from the Palace Gardens.

Zuko passes the cup back with a shaky exhale, but smiling anyways. "There you go."

"Thanks, man," Sokka sips at it slowly. "That's..." Suddenly the tea tastes bitter. He narrows his eyes at Zuko as a memory fades into his brain. "Wait a second. How come you didn't heat my soup back at the air temple!?"

"You— you still remember that!?" Zuko blushes furiously, twisting a strand of hair between his fingers.

"Yes! I was complaining about how Katara didn't cover it while I was out practicing, like, all night! You were right there."

"Well... you were being particularly annoying that day..." Zuko's smile is smug.

Sokka's eyes widen. "Oh, you little—" He leaps over their scrolls, narrowly avoiding the bottles of ink. Zuko grips Sokka's shoulders, grinning and attempting to shove him back onto the carpet.

Sokka's fingers brush up against his rib cage— Zuko makes a choked sound, startling them both, and clamps a hand over his mouth.

"Are...are you... fucking.. ticklish?"

Zuko takes a deep breath beneath his palm. Their eyes remain locked together. "Trick question. If I say yes, you're going to tickle me. If I say no, you're going to tickle me."

"Hmm." Sokka scratches his chin in fake contemplation. "The Prince makes a compelling point. However, may I suggest that according to decree seventeen-four-three, declaring that presented question is a trick, or has an illusion of choice, does not excuse the defendant from answering presented question."

"My colleague, Sokka, Southern Water Tribe Ambassador, is correct. Unfortunately for him, decree fifty-three-eight declared that without exception, all decrees below thirty-ten-ten are only in effect while the presented question is asked in the general's court room, which he might've known if he'd bothered to read up on the Fire Nation's laws and decrees like any good ambassador should. But, I suppose that perhaps even before that, a good ambassador would've thought better than to challenge the Prince of the Fire Nation to a trivia contest about his own country."

Sokka blinks. Wow, I want to kiss you.

"Okay. Just for that, you're so getting tickled."

"Wait, no—"

Zuko erupts into laughter, still pushing at Sokka's shoulders, hands digging into his sides.

I was so right. Sokka thinks wistfully. I missed your laugh more than anything.

>>>>

"So, can you like, heat my socks before—"

"Full offense, I wouldn't touch your socks with a ten foot pole."

>>>>

Zuko's screams rip through the silence of the night, grasping and clawing at his own neck, struggling for any breath. Sokka's beside him in an instant, kneeling on his mattress, wrenching his hands away from his neck.

"Zuko! Wake up!" He pleads, as Zuko's shouting and struggling fades into desperate sobs. "Please, wake up!"

Sokka pushes his sweaty bangs off his forehead and taps the side of his face gently. "Come on, wake up."

Zuko's eyes slide open, his scarred eye barely a sliver of white starkly contrasted against deep red.

"Zuko? Can you hear me?" Sokka whispers.

"S'kka," He rasps, tears falling shameless down his cheek. His arms reach for his best friend, and Sokka can't refuse. He wouldn't in a thousand years.

"It's okay. I know— it probably felt real, right?" He asks, as Zuko's arms wind around his neck. "I promise it's not. Just a nightmare."

Zuko kind of nods against him, his breath still hitching, so Sokka lays back into the pillows. Zuko's weight against him feels comfortable, warm (his own personal furnace). He whispers, "It— it was real." And leaves it at that.

Sokka runs his fingers from the top of his scalp to the base of his skull. "You might need a hair cut soon. Almost to your shoulders."

Zuko shakes his head.

"Okay, no haircut. How about tomorrow, when we wake up, I can try to braid it again?"

He hesitates, but nods eventually.

"Okay. No pressure. You can change your mind tomorrow, or right now. Or whenever." Sokka says, in that calm tone that still manages to surprise himself when he whips it out. "It's alright, now. You should try to sleep a little more. It's only..." Sokka strains his eyes to the desk beside them. "One O-Candle."

Zuko tightens his grip around Sokka.

>>>>

Sokka watches a hawk land on Zuko's window sill from the courtyard, a black ribbon attached to its ankle. Zuko unravels the scroll, reads through it twice, glances around the room behind him, folds it into a square and tucks it into his robes.

>>>>

Zuko rolls onto his side.

Sokka can feel the hole burning into the back of his skull, so he copies. Zuko's determined glare relaxes.

"Hi." Sokka yawns. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"No. I think I want you to leave."

He blanches. Somehow his mind is blank and at the same time, rushing every response possible through his head like a gatling gun. But miraculously, the reoccurring question that sticks is, What?

So, "What?"

Zuko sits up. "I want you to leave and never come back. Never show your face in the Fire Nation again."

"But I—"

He touches the scar on his neck. "You. Let this happen. To me."

Sokka sits up, fumbling with profusely sweaty hands, desperate, "Are you okay? We should just talk about this—"

"I'm done. Talking. Leave."

Sokka might throw up. Or cry. Or both, probably in that order. "You're not thinking right, you don't want that."

"Is that what you said to Yue, too? Did you tell Zuko he'd be a cheap replacement for the beloved and courageous Princess of the North?"

Okay. Yeah. Both, multiple times, in alternating order.

Zuko starts crying first. Sobbing. Sokka's instinct is to wipe the tears away. They burn, boiling against his thumbs.

Zuko's whole body his hot. He's smoking. Sokka tries to pull away but hands, ablaze with sudden fire, tighten their grip.

"Sokka," Zuko says, calm despite being entirely engulfed in flames, "You wanted this? You think this is better?"

"No, no— no! I'm sorry, no!"

"Sokka."

Zuko's breathing really loud.

"Sokka."

Wait.

"Sokka."

It's not Zuko.

"Sokka!"

He can't breathe.

"Wake—"

Someone shakes him hard enough that he's thrust into consciousness. He shivers. Zuko's gripping his biceps tight, fear painted like a mask. So obvious, it makes Sokka anxious.

"Are you... okay?" He slurs.

"Me?" Zuko barks a watery laugh. "You were— I mean, you..."

Sokka's suddenly being embraced, and his tears (ah, he's crying) soak through Zuko's shirt. Neither of them care, really.

>>>>

Sokka passes Zuko the book from the shelf they'd been clearing.

Zuko grabs it with his right hand, grimaces, hands it back to Sokka. Takes it back with his left.

Sokka smiles, and hands him the next book.

>>>>

The days had definitely felt longer before. Although, these felt pretty long anyways. Cold breezes carry from the forest to push the long grass surrounding the palace in waves.

And like a rock protruding from a river, Sokka lays on flattened and broken blades, his arms slung across his chest, rising slowly with every breath.

A small, freezing tear of water falls from the dark clouds above him and lands on his cheek— forcing his eyes open.

It's raining, He thinks through the thick fog of a disturbed sleep.

He almost lets the heaviness of his eyelids convince him to lay still and let the rain soak him to the bone as he rests, but more droplets start to pelt his thin shirt and he remembers, Zuko will be pissed if I come back soaked.

He gathers himself to his feet, shaking leaves and bits of green from his hair— distant lights of the highest spires of the city flicker in the haze of the sudden storm.

He climbs back down the rocky ledge.

Thunder crackles above softly, like the pats of his bare feet hitting the algae clinging to surfaces of rocks smoothed by weather.

There's a flame, drifting upwards unnaturally, water seeming to bounce around it, and Sokka squints.

"Sokka!?"

Aang.

He grins, canines protruding over his bottom lip, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with the motion. "Aang!"

Sokka tackles his friend into the mud with a swift leap. The flame in Aang's hands loses it's protector, sizzling out in the muck of rain and dirt. Aang pushes him off with a cold swipe of mud to his face and he rolls to the side, clumps of soil sticking in his hair and clothes.

Sokka scoffs a laugh and reaches to enact revenge with his own handful of dirt-- but suddenly, there's another figure, looming over them with a dark shadow, soaked to the bone as well, despite the steam rising from his shoulders.

"Zuko," Sokka swallows. Fuck. He's definitely covered in a lot of mud right now.

"It's raining," Zuko says slowly. He looks to Aang. His glare is severe. "You were supposed to get him and bring him back from the Gardens. I see now why you left in the opposite direction." Sokka watches his gaze slide back, studying his face with slight worry. "You're dirty. What happened?"

"I fought him," Aang grips one of the rocks and pulls himself to his feet. "And won."

Sokka rolls his eyes. "He didn't win." He looks up. "Zuko, he didn't win. Okay? I did. I won."

Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose, and turns on a dime back to the City, guards in tow.

"Somebody's in trouuuuuuble-"

"Can it, Aang," He grumbles, slicking some of the mud off his face. "We're both in trouble."

>>>>

"There's dirt everywhere," Zuko notes. His sleeves and pant legs are rolled up. There's water up to his shins, barely touching the cuffs of his pants. "The Royal Maids will hate you now."

His hands are slowly working through Sokka's hair, suds gathering around his fingers and smeared up his forearms.

Sokka leans back into his grasp, letting the water in the basin reach his chin. "Sorry."

He shrugs. "It doesn't... matter."

Sokka nods slightly, letting the conversation drift from his mind as Zuko's warm fingers work around his scalp.

"Aang is here."

"As promised."

"So, you knew?" Sokka asks.

"He sent a letter," Zuko picks up a cup and starts rinsing the soap out of his hair. "A few letters." His hands tense for a moment. "I— I wanted to tell you. But, but he said, that he wanted it to be a surprise, so I—"

Sokka clasps the hand that Zuko left in his hair. "It's alright, Sunshine. I wasn't accusing you of anything malicious."

Zuko relaxes easily. Sokka's heart swells.

"He's only here for a few days. He said Katara sends her regards, and regrets that she was unable to come as well. Her tribe needed their future chief." Zuko recites.

Sokka leans his head back, probably soaking  Zuko's new, dry clothes again. "Hey."

"...Hey."

"Thank you for letting Aang visit."

Zuko blushes, looks away. "I can't let him do anything. He's the Avatar. He can do whatever he wants."

"Well, still. Thanks. And I don't think that's an Avatar thing."

"Yeah? What is it, then?"

"Friend privilege."

Zuko scoffs.

Sokka stands out of the water, pulling his sopping wet pants a little higher on his waist. "One of the greatest, in fact." Zuko tilts his head to the side. Sokka grins at him— "You don't need an invitation."

Zuko throws a towel at him.

>>>>

After a whole day of dodging Aang's exuberant attempts to wrestle Zuko into a hug, he seems to give up, settling for rattling his ears off with non-stop stories about his and Katara's adventures.

Zuko listens, something he's exceptionally good at (still).

Just as Aang finishes the tale of the dark spirit haunting a small village of the Southern Water Tribe, he seems to sober up, a calm and empathetic tone in his voice. Sokka narrows his eyes, hoping Zuko won't recognize where he'd stolen it from.

"We missed you, Zuko," Aang reaches across the dining table, touching their fingertips together. "Katara really wants to come visit. Toph does too. They're just waiting for you to okay it."

Sokka twitches beside the prince, grumbling, "That sounds kind of pressuring."

"Oh! Sorry, hotman! I only meant that for whenever you're ready," Aang waves his hands. "They don't mind waiting!"

"I understood, Aang," Zuko smiles, staring at the table.

Maybe Sokka is the only one in trouble. 

>>>>

"Now I know how you felt," Aang grumbles. He stabs at some sort of greenery on his breakfast plate, obviously no intention of eating it.

"What?" Sokka sets his own fork down.

"Me and Katara. You kept saying, uh, oogie ? I think?" Aang rubs his scalp thoughtfully. "Well, you were totally right. You two give me oogies."

"Me and Zuko aren't— we aren't— do not— we aren't like you two at all."

"Could've fooled me!" Aang smiles. "The way you look at him is like, like—"

"Shhhhush! Be quiet! Do you want the whole palace to know!? Eat your damn food," Sokka slouches over, blushing furiously.

"Sorry, Captain Boomerang."

Fine. "Did you know Zuko's been a vegetarian this whole time?"

>>>>

It didn't take long for Zuko to find Sokka. So, as his door swung open— still painfully quiet and polite— he didn't bother turning around.

"Hey. Sorry."

"Do you even know what you're apologizing for?" Zuko asks. Shit. He sounds serious.

Sokka meets his gaze. There's enough tension between them to suffocate. Somehow, Zuko's not looking away. For the first time since they'd reunited, Zuko doesn't need to look away. Not even as minutes pass in uncomfortable silence, his eyes are trained on Sokka's. Of course it happens when they're about to fight. 

"Having fun?"

Zuko glowers.

"Sorry," He rushes, cracking a nervous smile. "I- I didn't mean..." Zuko blinks. Sokka lets out a small chuckle, scrambling for more excuses. "It—It sounded funnier in my head... It was a joke."

"It's fine, Sokka, I got that," Zuko rolls his eyes.

"Sorry," He says. But unable to help himself, wanting to get rid of the crushing anxiety in his chest and the dim mood surrounding them, he tries again. "And I thought Aang was supposed to be the one in trouble."

"Sokka."

There's more silence, because where is Zuko going with this? And again Sokka finds himself squirming in the unspoken words dancing around them, so he tries to remedy it in what feels like the beginning of a cycle.

"Did you wanna tell me why I'm apologizing?"

"You told Aang," Zuko sighs. "He's been pestering me for an hour."

"Pestering you," He repeats. "Funny way to describe talking to your friends."

He regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth. Zuko flinches back, his gaze dropping. The torches around the room dim for barely a second.

Zuko opens his mouth, but apparently chooses to stay silent and closes it. If Sokka was a fire bender, the torches would've melted through the walls by now. The old Zuko would've gotten angry, yelled, told him off, he would've tried to defend himself from such an obvious insult. But the old Zuko isn't here— he probably never will be.

Sokka's own anger is bubbling in his veins, threatening to spill over, before he speaks he takes a deep, settling breath. "I didn't mean that. I just... said it."

Zuko's jaw trembles, tears gathering in his lashes. "It's okay." I deserved it, Sokka hears in his tone.

Well, so much for calming breaths. He jumps from his seat, startling his friend again. "This isn't just about me telling Aang you don't eat meat, or me dragging mud into the palace, it can't be! Zuko," Sokka steps towards him. Zuko sucks in a frightened breath and backs away. "Please, I— you have to tell me what's wrong!"

"Why are you here still?" Zuko gasps out, glaring at the floor.

"Are you serious!? Why am I still here? Because I'm your friend! I care about you! I— I— I'm not going to just, leave! Not when you need me! Believe it or not, I'm not here for my own selfish gain, or because I pity you!"

Zuko scoffs. Sokka makes some frustrated sound and lurches towards him to grab his wrists. He yelps at the contact, but Sokka needs him to hear it, "I know you think everyone hates you, but we don't! We all just want to help you!"

"Let— go of me!" Zuko rips his arms away, the torches lighting up the room finally burst into flames, blackening the walls behind them. Not exactly melting, but it got the idea across. Sokka doesn't attempt the same stunt twice.

Sokka turns back to Zuko. The prince is holding his hands close to his chest, heavy breathing loud in his ears.

"I'm sorry!" Sokka says uselessly. "I didn't— I... I'm sorry, Zuko."

He shakes his head. Practically runs from the room. Sokka curses and kicks the closest thing he can find.

>>>>

Aang is in Sokka's room. The strong gust of wind through his open window might've been connected.

"So..."

"So."

"Trouble in—"

"Say one more word, Aang, and I'm going to shave my name into Appa's fur."

>>>>

Sokka is in Aang's room. The door swinging on it's hinges and slamming into the wall might've been connected.

"So!" Aang beams at him.

"Okay. I messed up. And I'm not serious about defacing Appa."

Aang pats the empty spot on the bed next to him. "Apology accepted! What happened?"

Sokka lays down, glaring at the intricately painted ceiling. "It's stupid."

"Well clearly Zuko's upset enough to stay holed up in his room for two days, and clearly you're upset enough to ask me for relationship advice. I wouldn't call it stupid, whatever it is."

"Not relationship advice. More like... friendship advice."

"Sokka, friendships are a type of relationship."

He chooses to ignore that. "Well, it all started... I guess when Zuko came back. He was weird. You know. I wrote Katara, and she can't keep her mouth shut."

Aang blushes. "Sorry."

"It's fine," He shrugs. "Anyways, he's getting better. A lot better. But sometimes... I think about the old Zuko... I don't... miss him, I guess. Because the new Zuko is... I mean, he's great—"

"They're the same person, Sokka," Aang says. "I know Zuko might act differently than he used to, but he's just changing to adapt to his circumstances and experiences. He told me what happened. After the vegetarian thing. I understand now why he doesn't want to be hugged or confronted— even if 'confrontation' is a simple question. And I know he gets overwhelmed very easily because of it."

Ah. So that's what he meant by pestering. 

"I'm so stupid," Sokka digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. "And he told you what happened while he was... captive? He didn't even tell me that. Did I seriously fuck it up that badly?"

"No... Maybe..." The avatar's face scrunches up in thought. "Maybe he's scared, because he cares about you more. Like, you'll think more differently of him than you already do. I mean, the way you speak about 'old' and 'new' Zuko feels like they're two different people."

Sokka turns his head to Aang. "Stop being so wise."

"I can't! It's kinda my job," He smiles.

"What should I do, then?"

"I dunno. Whatever you think is best. You know Zuko better than I do, and we're like, bestest friends ever."

"Woah, buddy, Zuko's bestest friend ever is my title."

"Whatever you say!" Aang says, and his tone is just asking for another mud fight.

>>>>

"Zuko?" Sokka knocks on his bedroom door. "I heard... you've been here for two days? Almost three now, it's almost... 9 O-candle. Probably."

No response.

Sokka twists his hands together. He tries knocking again, "I know you're like, pissed at me, and you have every right to be... And I can't begin to express how sorry I am..."

Shuffling right behind the door. Sokka smiles. "I could try. I have something to show you. Well, it's more of a place and if we don't go now we might miss it—"

Zuko's door opens a crack. "Where?" His voice is rough and grainy from disuse.

"It's a surprise, if you're okay with that."

"Okay."

"Another thing. Can't bring any guards with you."

"I suspected so." He shrugs. "Take me to this mysterious place, please."

"Of course, your majesty."

Sokka's dragging him through the streets, not as fast as Zuko might've dragged him, but a quick pace nonetheless.

Something like familiarity sparks in Zuko's eyes as they begin climbing crates onto a the roof of a nondescript house.

"Now, the people who lived here moved out, I think," Sokka says as he sits on the beam in the middle. Zuko follows suit, and just a second passes before a small orange light clumsily flies to touch his nose. "But... The Fire bugs never left."

"Oh." The prince watches another firebug land on his finger. "So kind... for these people to let us use their roof."

"I was hoping to catch the sunset, too, but Aang sort of talked to me too late," Sokka sighs. "I—"

"Apologize again and I'll have you tried for treason."

That took Sokka off guard. "Treason?"

Zuko twirls a strand of hair between his fingers, watching the Fire bugs in the field below them. "You sort of kidnapped the Prince of the Nation. That's very treasonous."

"Hopefully, my punishment won't be execution?"

Zuko's eyes go distant and glossy. Sokka gives him a few gracious moments to try and recover himself, but it doesn't seem likely. He nudges his shoulder, and Zuko comes back to himself with a small breath, meeting Sokka's gaze.

"You okay, Sunshine?"

He nods. "Yeah. Just thinking."

"'Bout what?"

"Treason."

"Why? Wanting to commit some anytime soon? You'll have to invite me first."

Zuko smiles at his joke, but it doesn't last. "No. I was thinking about my father. The treason he committed against the Fire Nation."

Sokka raises a brow. "It was against the whole world, really."

"Not that one. The one he got away with. He should've been executed. Or banished. But he wasn't. My uncle didn't even challenge him for the throne. He got away with it and I have to live with it forever."

"Your family's past actions don't reflect onto you, whatever he did, you don't need to live with it forever," Sokka frowns. "Like the Air Nomads. Just because Ozai decided to genocide an entire people, doesn't mean you want to."

Zuko gives him a funny look. "You don't know? How can you not know? Everyone knows." Now, horror is a better descriptor. "Oh, Agni, does nobody know?"

"Know what, Zuko?"

"I have to live with it, because it covers half of my entire face," Zuko turns to him, staring at Sokka's shirt, showcasing...

"Oh, fuck!" Sokka's hand clamps over his mouth. "Are you fucking serious!?"

Zuko shushes him, and Sokka remembers they are very much on a stranger's roof.

"Tui and La, he did that to you!?"

"When I was thirteen."

"But... You must've been sixteen when you were trailing us. You stayed with him after that?"

"Not exactly... My hunt for the Avatar began long before you found him." Zuko sighed. "It was a fool's errand. Three years at sea... Wasted."

"I'm gonna need some elaboration, please." Sokka shifts closer. Fuck, he wishes he could hold Zuko's hands right now, but he'd only just been forgiven, and— Oh. Zuko's holding his hands now. Sokka might explode. Or do something rash.

"Long story... shorter... I weaseled my way into a war meeting when I was thirteen, spoke out of turn, accepted the Agni Kai against the general I'd disrespected by calling his plan stupid, because he was old and... I dunno. He had a stupid plan. So. I thought I could take him. I was on the platform... I turned... My father was there," Zuko closes his eyes. "I... knelt. I begged for mercy. I refused to fight— But obviously, it didn't turn out so well for me. And... Instead of being punished for treason, he banished me, and told me I was to return home only when I found the Avatar, and handed him over. I followed his orders. I thought it would make him love me. I thought.. I thought he was right. That I deserved it. I can't imagine what they would've done to Aang if they got him. I can't believe how naive I was."

"I— I don't even know what to say," Sokka breathes out, squeezing Zuko's hands. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm sure that general deserved his plan being called stupid."

"He did. He was gonna sacrifice our troops... Just to get a leg up. Stupid. Like I said."

"And your Uncle... Didn't stop him?"

"No. Usually, an Agni Kai ends in death. But, Uncle was able to get my father away from me, eventually. He said I obviously wasn't dying, and my Father was wasting his time. I don't remember. I passed out pretty early on. I had low pain tolerance."

"Can I please hug you?"

Zuko tilts his head to the side. "Sokka, I'm not afraid of you. You can hug me. And touch me. You can do this," Zuko lifts their joined hands. "Just don't... grab me like you did. Especially if we're... fighting."

Sokka pulls him into a hug. He missed this. Zuko, old and new (who were really the same),  still have amazing hugs that he never wanted to end.

Also, Sokka was definitely going to kill Ozai.

>>>>

Aang leaves the next morning. Appa is busy licking Zuko's clothes and hair to notice Sokka waving his hands in front of him. Apparently he liked Zuko better. Whatever. Stupid Bison.

"And next time I'll bring you some of my favorite recipe books, oooohhh, and I can give you this bracelet Katara made for you but I totally forgot it this time— sorry— and I'll let you ride Appa since I forgot that too, and—"

"Thank you, Aang," Zuko bows with a small smile. "Your visit has been most enjoyable. I look forward to future ones. And maybe..." He glances over to Sokka. "Maybe Katara can give me the bracelet herself."

Aang brightens visibly and jumps in the air clapping. "Yes! She'd love to come over! She says she misses the heat, and I told her no, you just aren't used to being in the South Pole, since we left for like a whole six months, and not to mention all the traveling we did after that, and she said I was wrong, and that the Fire Nation is always hot, but it also has Humidity! Which is true! The Poles have sort of a dry heat and it doesn't—"

Zuko embraces Aang, arms awkwardly connecting around his shoulders, but the Airbender shuts up and returns it. Sokka's jaw might be on the floor. Zuko steps back and bows one more time, and Aang's leaping onto Appa.

"Bye Sokka! Bye Zuko! Bye Uncle Iroh! Bye Neema! Bye Yamek! Bye Shen! Bye Cho! Bye Yomo! Bye Lokan! Bye—"

"Please, young Avatar! I'm sure Zuko's entire guard knows you bid them farewell!" Iroh calls up to him. "We wouldn't wish to keep you from your duties!"

"Oh, of course!" He says timidly, like he might've forgotten some duty he was supposed to do. "See you next time!"

Zuko thanks Iroh for the save. Agni knows how many guards he's memorized the names of.

Despite being high noon, without Aang bouncing through the halls, the palace seemed dimmer.

>>>>

"Firelord Iroh. Pai sho?"

"Of course. Something about your rigid posture tells me you perhaps have a grievance with me?"

Sokka nods. "Something like that."

>>>>

"My greatest shame," Iroh says, setting his cup of tea on the board. "I should've done anything. But I didn't want to lose another son. If I had dueled my brother and lost... I fear Zuko would not have had a pleasant fate."

"So... you did nothing."

"Unfortunately, that much is true," The old man shakes his head. "After all of it, I wanted to get Prince Zuko as far away from his father as he could get. I went with him on this journey. I hoped, with gentle encouragement and wisdom, that he would choose his own path— the right one."

"And he did."

Iroh moves his final piece— and he'd won. "He did."

Sokka looks over the board. "Okay. Let's go again."

>>>>

Someone's poking his cheek. Which is incredibly rude-- it must be the middle of the night, and Sokka's trying to catch up on sleep after several nights of glaring at his losing pieces on a Pai Sho board. Tea had a great way of keeping you awake, after all.

"Wake up!" It's a whisper, somehow still urgent.

Sokka bats at the hand poking him away. It comes back with a vengeance, drilling into the side of his neck. He huffs a dramatic sigh and lets the finger keep prodding him. "What?"

"Just get up, I promise you're not kidnapping me this time," Zuko's voice registers in his mind. Embarrassingly, he sits up as soon as he recognizes it. Bright, golden eyes shine through the darkness of his room, almost overshadowed by how bright his smile is. "I wanna show you something."

"Where to?" Sokka mumbles, hoping he doesn't sound entirely enamored.

Zuko sneaks with him through the halls despite Sokka's tired clumsiness, rubbing at sleep ridden eyes. It should be intense, trying to slip past royal guards to get to some unknown location, just like the last time they'd done it. But all Sokka could really focus on was how Zuko's fingers were fit in between his without hesitation. Almost perfectly twined with his.

One (not so quiet) dash across a four-way intersection of hallways, and they're pushing through a set of saloon doors to enter--

"The kitchen? We had to sneak to get to the kitchen?"

Zuko smiles, giggling and fiddling with Sokka's fingers. "Yeah.... But if the staff saw me they'd know why I'm here..."

"You woke me up at... You woke me up in the middle of my beauty rest to steal food from your own kitchen?"

The prince tilts his head, and his smile drops a little, "Well, yes. And not just any food." He steps aside, letting go of Sokka's hands (much to his dismay).There's a small ice box beneath the smooth stone tables. "We only were able to start making this again since our trade routes with the water tribes opened up again. During the war, we cut off all trades with them and started stealing instead, but without the Water Tribe transportation, it would just melt all over the place before we even set foot on a boat." Zuko lifts the ice box up onto the table. Sokka's staring, utterly confused. "Sorry. We didn't used to have ice, is what I'm saying."

"Tui and La. I can't imagine being in a place this hot without ice."

"You lived in an ice house for your entire childhood, Sokka. I don't think you can imagine being in any place without ice."

"Hey! It's an igloo, not an ice house. And that doesn't tell me why I'm being forced to come here against my will to eat another Fire Nation dish that'll leave my tongue feeling like I just dipped it in lava."

Zuko smirks at him and cracks open the ice box. There's a red, smooth looking--

"Is that... ice cream?" Sokka inches closer.

"Yes..." He pulls the box away. "Oh. Did you.. Want some?"

Sokka gestures to himself, like it were an answer.

"Okay. You can have some."

But the box doesn't move any closer from Zuko's grip. Sokka sighs, resigned.

"Fine. What do I have to do?"

"What? Nothing... Just... say it."

Sokka's eye twitches. "Say... what?"

Zuko shrugs again.

"You can't be serious."

Silence. Fuck.

"Fine! If you really wanna hear it."

"I really do."

He looks so smug, Sokka's considering foregoing the ice cream just to wipe it off his face.

"Telling time by saying number-o-candle is incredibly stupid, and a horrible idea, and not funny at all," Sokka mutters.

Zuko laughs. "Not exactly the words I'd use, but thank you." He slides the box back to Sokka, with a thin spoon. "Here. Be careful, it's spicy."

"I denounced my greatest idea to date to eat spicy ice cream?"

"Maybe."

Zuko's hip bumps his as they lean against the counter, Sokka eats the ice cream slowly— it's not as spicy as other fire nation food, and the milk calms his tongue as soon as it burns. To be honest, he kind of really likes it. Damn Zuko and his stupid Fire Nation ice cream.

But Zuko's sort of spaced out, holding his own spoon between his fingers, staring at... nothing.

Sokka clears his throat. "Aren't you gonna eat it? We came all the way here just for this?"

Zuko's quiet still, so Sokka nudges his hip. The prince looks up, finally, his entire body seems taut with stress. "I couldn't sleep. And... I used to sneak into the kitchen with Lu-Ten before he went off to the war. It was always fun, so I thought... I'd try to recreate a happy memory."

"With your bestest friend ever, naturally," He nods, then takes a more solemn tone, "Sometimes when I have nightmares, I used to sneak into Katara's room and sleep in her tiny ass bed. She used to get mad and call me an idiot, but I know she didn't really mean it. Little sister stuff."

"Trust me, I know all about little sisters being mean." Zuko jokes.

Sokka sets the dessert down.

"You know you can come to me if you ever have nightmares, right?" He says in a low voice. "Or anything. If you're scared, or anxious, or whatever else you've got going on in here." He taps his finger to Zuko's temple.

"Yeah."

"You'll have to do better than that," Sokka says. "You call that convincing? I thought you were into theater."

"Into it. Not apart of it."

"Well, you're good at avoiding questions, I'll give you that."

Zuko glares.

"You can tell me anything."

Now, he scoffs. "Not everything."

"Sure you can. Why not everything?"

Zuko shrugs again. "It's complicated..."

"I can take it. I promise. You could tell me you hated me, or you think I smell bad, or even that you're not my bestest friend ever... That one might hurt a bit, but I'll take it," Sokka says. "I promise. I swear."

"It's not like that..." Zuko turns away.

Sokka tilts his face back with a delicate touch. His fingers linger underneath Zuko's chin. "Come on. Tell me."

The prince's eyes glance down. Sokka's heart might stop in his chest. He lives a year in only a few seconds.

"Tell me... If I'm reading this wrong," He starts, slow, the cracks in his voice betraying him.

Zuko lifts his head up, presses their lips together, just barely. Sokka thinks he might be having a heart attack. The faintest touch and his knees feel so weak he has to grip the table they're leaning on. But just as fast as it was there, it's gone, and Zuko's not meeting his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

Sokka kisses him again. Zuko opens up almost instantly, whines into it, his hands grasping the fabric of Sokka's robes. He holds perfectly still as Sokka mouths down his jaw and neck, pressing him into the counter, hands trailing down his sides to the hem of his shirt.

"Oh," Zuko gasps and Sokka's hands edge under his shirt. "Um-- No, no-- stop--"

Sokka steps back, hands retreating to his sides. "My bad! We don't have to--"

"No, I-- you didn't--" Zuko's eyes brim with tears, clutching at his own chest. "I think I-- I-- please.." He rubs his eyes and steps backwards towards the doors. "Please-- just-- fucking stay away from me."

The doors swing shut behind him. Sokka's still panting, resting his weight on that stone counter. How did that go so wrong so fast?

>>>>

Okay. Sokka hasn't seen Zuko in three days. He might be drowning in love and sorrow. He didn't even have him-- why did it feel worse than when Suki broke things off with him?

>>>>

Sokka has dreams of an awful smell and smoke and blackened floors and a broken window smeared with blood.

He walks to Zuko's room, peers inside, and retreats silently. He can finally breathe again.

>>>>

On the fourth night with no sign of life from the Prince, Sokka's doors are being rapped on loud and rough. He opens them, glaring at whoever had the audacity--

"I don't like you." Zuko says. "And I don't— I'm not— I don't like guys."

Sokka blinks. He thinks he might be asleep still. "Uh, Ok?"

"I'm certainly not in love with you." Zuko says, and takes a step closer. In the firelight of Sokka's guest room, he can see Zuko's expression twisted into fear. "I'm not in love with you."

"Zuko?" He offers his hands, palms up. "Are you okay?"

"I-I just need," Zuko's eyes are suddenly rimmed with tears as he stumbles into Sokka's room, wrapping his robes tightly around himself. "I need— I'm not in love with you. I can't— I can't be, I—"

"It's okay," Sokka says. He's definitely not asleep. "It's okay, really."

"No, it's— I'm—" He finally reaches out to fall into Sokka's offering of contact. "You're so— fucking— I hate you, but—"

Sokka presses his hand to Zuko's forehead. "You feel hotter than you probably should, Sunshine. I think you should lay down."

"Sokka, you're not listening, you're just—"

"I understand, you aren't in love with me, and you also hate me," Sokka nods, despite how it tears at his heart, turning Zuko back towards the door. "But you seriously need to go back to bed. You've got a fever."

Zuko twists in his arms again, reaching up to pull his face down. "Sokka. You don't get it. I hate you. And I'm not in love with you." His dilated yellow eyes trail down, to his lips, just like that night in the kitchen. "I— I would never..."

And then Zuko is kissing him, desperately, like there's nothing else in the world to keep him alive. Sokka breathes out, deepens it, cradles his head and back—

Sokka pulls away, easily keeping Zuko at arms length.

"What— did I— I'm sorry, I didn't mean— I thought you felt—" Zuko rubs at his eyes, trying to clear the dampness. "I'm sorry."

"Sh," Sokka runs his thumbs across his cheeks, into his hair. "It's okay. Don't be sorry. But you've got a fever. And you're sending some pretty mixed messages. So you," Sokka turns him around again, finally able to find their way towards  Zuko's room. "Need to sleep. I suggest at least ten hours. But you could use more."

The old you would've been nervous but proud to share your feelings for me. You might've even gotten a laugh about it if I'd rejected you. I wouldn't have rejected you. I won't. He lays Zuko into his mattress, pulls his sheets back and presses a kiss to his fever-warm forehead.

"And I don't mind that you're terrified," Sokka admits. "I'm sort of terrified, too."

"You can't....be...." Zuko mumbles. His frail fingers drift up and find Sokka's face. "You're... so... you're... my favorite."

Sokka smiles. Warmth grows in his chest and stomach. "You're my favorite, too."

No response. Zuko frowns.

Old or new Zuko. Both of them. The same person-- his best friend. He loves him. Is in love with him. Same thing, Sokka thinks.

Three days without him were just as bad as that year. So, that's it, then. He's been in love with his best friend for who knows how long, who hates him and definitely isn't in love with him, but also wants to kiss him and spend all hours of the day with him. Okay, that last part, Sokka might've been projecting— but the point still stood.

Sokka brushes Zuko's hair out of his face again... "I changed my mind. You're my greatest idea to date. I don't even like candles."

Zuko smiles in his sleep, pulling the covers further up his body.

>>>>

"Obviously... I..." Zuko moves his hands in front of him aimlessly. "You... know how I feel."

"Not exactly... You've been—"

"Giving you mixed signals."

Sokka nods, picking up a the comb on the dresser. Zuko meets his eyes through the reflection in the mirror. "I want to apologize for that. My mind, I guess it doesn't work the way it used to. It doesn't work how I want it to, either." He sighs. "Everything is frustrating and overwhelming. I don't really know what to do about it."

"That's fine... You don't need to know what to do all the time..." Sokka offers. Iroh probably— no, definitely had said that to him one night during a game.

"I miss it. Being certain of my decisions and choices. Who I am. Even when I was on the wrong side, I was always confident... proud, certain." Zuko shakes his head now, scrunching up his face with aggravation. "It was easier to be angry. Now it's easier to... I don't know."

"Hide?"

"Probably." He pauses for a moment, deep in thought, but turns to face Sokka in his chair. "When those, uh, people took me. I fought back— constantly, I mean, I'm sure you heard about the one I left in my room... But they made sure I learned from it. I learned not to fight back. I didn't know who I was anymore. That's— that's who I am. Was."

Sokka kneels to meet his eye level.

"I'm sorry that I've been hiding, as you put it. You scare me," At Sokka's slight recoil, Zuko grabs his hand. "Not like that. I meant... You scare me in a good way? I can't describe it. I— um. I really like you. I guess. And... You know... I never... It's not—"

"I get it," Sokka says.

"Okay." Zuko answers. "Then, you have to know, everything I said last night, I meant the opposite."

"Shit. I'm not your favorite?"

Zuko blushes deep red. "No! You know what I meant."

"No. I don't. Just... say it."

His face falls. There it is, Sokka thinks. Now you know how I felt.

"You're not serious?"

"Deadly."

Zuko mutters several strings of words under his breath, crosses his arms, and finally, "I don't hate you and actually, I'm irremediably and irreparably in love with you."

Oh, this must be what a heart attack actually feels like.

>>>>

The next time Aang comes to visit, Katara is right on his heels with the aforementioned bracelet and a long embrace. She's greeted with a stunning guest room and the sight of her brother and his best friend holding hands rather inconspicuously.

Her eyes tell Sokka they'll be having a talk later— probably about ripping his throat out if he hurts Zuko— and vice versa, although she'd never threaten Zuko to his face anymore.

And when they go on trips and disappear for a few hours, Aang and Sokka lounge in the kitchen to eat the royal family out of house and home, until their respective partners return with dozens of bags of new trinkets or a few new scrapes and bruises from vigilante escapades (Sokka still can't believe he's the Blue Spirit).

>>>>

Three Years Later
Southern Water Tribe

"Sokka! Message for you!"

"Really? I've only been here a week, how did anyone know—"

His voice cuts off at the familiar black ribbon tied to the scroll. "Thank you, K'eyush."

The young boy scampers out of his 'ice house', hawk still perched on his arm.

It does make sense. Only someone from the Fire Nation would know about his short trip to his tribe. While the trip was entirely for political reasons, it didn't hurt to see his father again, and somehow what was supposed to be a two day trip had become seven. He looks at the scroll in his hands.

All of his mail is directed to Caldera city, where Zuko sorts through it and eventually leaves it on his desk.

Without knowing if the black ribbon belongs to Zuko or Iroh, receiving a letter of such importance sends a spike of anxiety and adrenaline through his heart, his hands shaking to untie it.

The ribbon falls to the ground as he unravels it, smoothing the parchment out.

Sokka.

   Please   come  for a visit . It's been  far  too long.  Your soon to be father-in-law wants to play Pai Sho.

    Yours,
           Zuko.

P.S. He told me to call him that. I only agreed to lengthen the word count. Your fiancé misses you too. I wrote that one all by myself, by the way.