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It is a particularly hot night in Republic City, Zuko realizes as he steps off of his airship and onto the docking bay. The moon is high in the sky, the breeze is cool and comfortable, and the city is bustling with activity. People heading home from work, going out to eat, to meet at the tea shops and dance to the live bands. The nightlife here was different than back in the very traditional setting of Caldera - it is new, lively, and full of possibilities maybe not found elsewhere across the four nations. It truly is a one of a kind city, he muses, hefting his bag onto his shoulder.
Something about the city made Zuko feel new, lively, and full of possibility. Even the air felt lighter here than back home.
Zuko turns from the cityscape across the bay, amber eyes meeting baby blue ones across the crowded street like magnets. Somehow, it feels as if he was stepping into the eye of a storm, air sucked from his very lungs; across the street, Sokka stands tall against a carriage, smile goofily lopsided, shoulders deliciously muscular. Agni bless sleeveless tunics. His typical wolftail - ahem, power pony - is flowing in the wind, his undercut cleanly shaven. Even from across the street, Zuko can see that the warrior’s heart is practically shining in his eyes, barely contained for the sake of the crowd around them. It reminds him of his invitation here, hastily written in the wee hours of the morning, quiet confessions implied in the short letter. It makes his stomach churn with nerves, but when Sokka is looking at him like that….nerves be damned. He always was putty in the warrior’s hands.
The warrior-turned-councilman raises a hand to wave, eyes locked on Zuko’s.
“Well? Are you coming, Jerkbender?”
Unable to bite back his grin, Zuko adjusts his heavy bag on his shoulder as he crosses the street. Here, in Aang’s dreamscape of a city, he could walk the streets comfortably in plainclothes without being recognized…..that often. He was very recognizable, what with the giant scar and all, but the people tended to be more laid back here.
He finds his way to Sokka through the crowd, stopping just shy of the carriage to drop his bag onto the sidewalk.
“Mister Fire Lord.” Sokka says, bowing. A little dramatically, Zuko might add. “Welcome back to Republic City.”
Zuko returns his bow, smiling. “Councilman Sokka. Thank you for hosting me.”
Sokka grins up at him, sauntering closer, so close Zuko could pull him in for an embrace. Instead, Sokka swoops down to collect the discarded bag and hurls it into the back of the carriage. Zuko watches as his arm muscles restrict and contract, heart stilled.
“Pleasure’s all mine,” He chirps over his shoulder, fastening the bag with ties so it doesn’t get jostled around. Zuko thinks he catches the tail end of a wink.
“Where are we going?” Zuko asks, eyebrow arched in curiosity at the carriage.
Sokka opens the carriage door, nods his head towards the bench inside.
“You’ll see. Hop in.”
For all his swearing to play it cool on the airship ride over, Zuko feels a blush creeping up his neck, the butterflies he tried his best to keep at bay the entire ride over now set free in his entire being. Sokka’s easy smile makes him feel like he could fly. He knows in his heart that he would follow Sokka to the ends of the earth - again - no questions asked, no explanation needed. Whatever he has up his sleeve tonight, Zuko knows to his bones that he is down. So embarrassingly down. Especially after their exchanged letters over the summer.
The pair share a smile and Zuko turns to climb into the carriage. Sokka, face innocent as ever, places a firm hand to Zuko’s rear to…assist him in boarding their ride. Though it sure felt more like copping a feel, if Zuko were asked.
Always one to lack grace, Zuko nearly jumps out of his skin at the lightning-bolt sensation of Sokka’s hand on his rear end, and he bumps his head awkwardly on the roof.
“Sokka-“ He grumbles, dropping onto one of the benches inside, hand flying up to ease the pain on his head. He knows his face is beat-red, that there’s no saving his ego, so he juts his bottom lip out and opts to pout outright. If he can’t play it off, he may as well shoot for some sympathy.
“I didn’t do anything,” Sokka cuts him off, feigning innocence. He sits next to Zuko, bare biceps brushing expensive red robes as he shrugs, hands raised in defense. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Zuko glares, arms crossed tightly over his chest.
“You know very well-“
“Ahem. Downtown, if you recall, Bo.” Sokka calls out to the driver through a small wooden screen. “You know the spot.”
The carriage begins to move, and Sokka makes small talk that Zuko can’t even focus on. He sees his lips moving, arms and hands animated as ever, telling some story from last week’s seminar for the United Nations. All Zuko can pay attention to is how….charming Sokka is. How he so easily lights up a room, even if it’s just the two of them there. He can smell the salty sea air wafting off of him every time he waves his hands around to demonstrate whatever his story is about. Zuko watches the angle of his jaw as he speaks, the blue of his eyes, the tilt of his smile. Sitting here, next to Sokka in the small carriage, Zuko suddenly understands the poets and all of their sonnets. He feels as if he could write endless lines just watching Sokka speak.
Sokka is still babbling and all Zuko can think of are his letters, addressed with his official Republic City Councilman seal, signed off with Yours, Sokka.
Yours…..Sokka.
Yours.
The simple word still gives him butterflies.
Sure, they had a……moment two months ago, one could call it, if one was brave enough to admit he hoped that’s what it was. A much more moment after several smaller moments scattered throughout the last year or so. A moment that really shifted things. A moment that set off the letters.
Zuko thinks back to the last time Sokka and their friends visited the Fire Nation; how him and Sokka were suddenly inseparable, nearly stitched to each other’s sides from breakfast until long after dinner for the whole week they were there, embraces and smiles and glances lingering just so. How Sokka had insisted he walk Zuko to his royal chambers each night, refusing any pushback from the Fire Lord, shutting him up with a stunning smile backlit by the dim firelight of the winding hallways.
“Your last assassination attempt wasn’t that long ago, Zuko. You can never be too safe.” Sokka had said that first night, so endearingly serious. The way Sokka gazed at him then stirred something deep within Zuko that he’d tried ignoring since the war ended three years ago. Every smile, every glance, every touch unearthed feelings Zuko tried hard not to have, tried hard to ignore, but Sokka seemed insistent on digging it all up. Zuko couldn’t bring himself to fight him on it.
On the last night of the group’s stay in the Fire Nation, Zuko and Sokka had lingered in the dinner hall long after their friends called it a night, tucked into a corner after the royal staff had been excused. He thinks back to Sokka, apparently emboldened by a sweet strawberry wine, leaning in close, chin propped in his palm, eyes so blue and so inviting that Zuko felt he could swim in their depths. The line of his drunken smile sent electric shocks straight to Zuko’s heart. Sokka’s free hand had reached atop the table then, laced his fingers between Zuko’s as the firebender told some story about his boring chamberlain. Zuko hadn’t been sober enough to play it off like he hasn’t been pining away for Sokka for the better part of a decade, but he was drunk enough that they were on an even playing field, minds and bodies both operating slightly beyond their control. He still remembers the way Sokka had worried his bottom lip between his teeth, the way his cheeks flushed just that much more, when Zuko took a moment too long to react. Sokka had started to drop his hand, panic taking over his face, when Zuko finally snapped out of his stupor. He tightened his grip on Sokka’s hand, fingers tightly entwined, his brows set stubbornly. They shared a smile then that just felt like a giant, relieved sigh. The wine long gone, candles long burned out, he had walked Sokka to his room shortly after, all flushed faces and drunken giggles and bodies leaning together - for physical support or just because they could, Zuko couldn’t tell. They’d came to a stumbling stop outside of Sokka’s room, breathless, hands entwined, and so very painfully close. Sokka’s back was heavy against his door, tugging Zuko close by their interlocked hands.
“Zuko, I-“ Sokka tried, eyes full of… something heavy.
Zuko was facing him, admiring the way the fire-lit sconces made the blue of Sokka’s eyes somehow bluer, his bronze skin somehow glow. He tried to count every freckle dotted across Sokka’s nose and cheeks, wanting nothing more than to place a kiss to each and every one.
“What, Sokka?”
“I just-“
Of course, it was then that Katara had decided to open her door, wrapped in a sleeping robe, eyes full of concern at the clattering in the hallway.
Zuko remembers thinking Katara looked like a mother who caught her child sneaking out before her grin overtook her concern.
“I’ll take it from here, Zuko.” She had whispered gently, eyes twinkling with something between surprise and fondness and wicked amusement. Even in his drunken state, Zuko knew she would surely have words for him about this later. Agni save him.
Sokka tried to protest, tried to finish his sentence, but she was quick to shove her brother into his room.
The walk back to Zuko’s chambers felt longer, colder somehow. Like he was missing a giant Sokka-shaped warmth tucked into his side. He fell asleep shortly after his head hit the pillow, visions of tanned skin and blue eyes and toned muscles and a stupidly attractive power pony flashing in his dreams.
When he woke the next morning, head pounding and mouth dry, his eyes fell to a note shoved beneath the door. He stumbled over to it, ignoring the glass of water on his nightstand that his body screamed for.
From the desk of Republic City Councilman Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe
Zuko,
I’m sorry for disappearing. Aang and I had to take Appa first thing this morning. We’ve been called to Republic City sooner than anticipated. Life of a politician, am I right?
I already know that you will see Katara to the shipyard. She’ll need to catch a tradeship back home. We didn’t want to wake her. I know you’ll make sure she’s safe. Thank you. Aang says thank you as well.
And about last night - my head may be pounding now, but I wasn’t that drunk. I only wish we had more time. I had more to say. I’m going to write more letters.
Promise you’ll visit me us Republic City soon?
From Yours,
Sokka
It was a mess, scribbled in the wee hours of the morning with almost too dry ink, smeared just so by Sokka’s hand, but Zuko had read it ten times over before he understood the implications. He read it four more times before he caught his breath.
Yours,
Sokka.
Katara had knocked, then, and Zuko stumbled over to let her in. He opened the door to her shit-eating grin, hands crossed over her chest, eyes shining with amusement.
“So, Zuko.”
“Katara, please. My head-”
“You and my brother, huh?”
Zuko flushed a deep scarlet, face matching his scar, and yanked Katara into his room before anyone could hear her. If he wasn’t hungover, he might have reverted back to sixteen years old and lost his temper on her. Instead, he threw himself face first onto his bed, letter in hand, and groaned at the barrage of questions she hurled his way.
How did this happen? When did this happen? Is this going to happen? You actually want…Sokka? Have you seen that stupid power pony he’s growing? My brother Sokka? We’re talking about the same guy who drank cactus juice and tripped balls in the desert? Did you know I still help him with his laundry? Like….my Sokka? Are you sure, Zuko? Did you hit your head? I owe Toph ten silver coins.
This has to be what having a normal sister must be like, Zuko mused to himself, bittersweet.
“He wrote me a letter.” He’d finally admitted, voice muffled because he was still face down on his bed, and thrusted the parchment into the air. “I don’t know what to do.”
Katara gingerly took the page into her hands, blue eyes scanning her brother’s familiar pigeon-chicken-scratch, amused, and then her gaze went soft as it turned to Zuko. She moved to sit beside him on his bed. He turned onto his side to face her, eyes downcast, embarrased.
“What do I-Katara, what should I do?”
“What do you mean? Write the idiot back, Fire Lord Hotman.”
She didn’t mention their drunken stupor from the night before, didn’t poke or prod or tease any more, just gave him a reassuring smile. And if Katara thought it was a good idea to write him back - and was giving her blessing, basically - surely he needed to listen.
Zuko scribbled down a response on the nearest parchment he could find.
To Sokka,
Life of a politician, indeed. Of all, I understand too well. No need for apologies. It’s no worries at all. It is the life we have chosen.
No way am I sending her off on a tradeship. That is no place for Katara. My crew will escort her directly. Which you know by now, reading this letter. Obviously. Please oversee their refuel for the trip home.
I wasn’t that drunk, either. I will be looking forward to your letters.
I would love to visit Republic City you. Give me a few weeks to sort it out.
Until your next correspondence,
Zuko
Then, he sent her off on his personal Fire Nation airship - escorted by his personal crew, of course, only the best for his friends - firecracker buns in hand for Aang, a letter for Sokka tucked deep within her bag, and his entire heart packed with it. Katara had giggled her way back to Republic City, and that was that.
He hadn’t been brave enough to write much more at the time. It would have taken too much thought, and he didn’t want to overthink this the way he overthought everything. Things with Sokka could be…simple. He thought it could be easy, if he let it. He really wanted to let it be easy. After everything that’s happened in his life, Sokka deserved something that was easy.
That first letter lived in his chambers, in the nightstand next to his bed, atop a growing pile of letters exchanged over the last two months. Letters that contained typical exchanges between friends, littered with what felt like quiet confessions whispered in the dark.
Dearest Jerkbender,
My dearest Sokka,
I really do hope you’ll visit.
I can visit you next month.
I can’t wait to see you again.
I’m really looking forward to seeing you.
It’s not soon enough.
I’m counting down the days.
I’ll meet you at the docks.
I have so much to say. To tell you.
Always,
Sokka.
Yours,
Zuko.
The anticipation had built up over the two months and handful of letters since then, but nothing past Zuko visiting was promised or planned or even brought up. Neither one mentioned their almost kiss, their hand holding, or drunkenly stumbling to their rooms in any of the letters. No one wondered to the other in ink what might have happened had Katara never interrupted, but the thought plagued Zuko’s dreams every night since. Maybe tonight he would get his answer. Maybe tonight, his pining won’t be one sided and his daydreaming would come true.
The carriage comes to a sudden stop, snapping Zuko out of his own head.
“Where are we?”
“You’ll see.” Sokka murmurs, reaching across Zuko’s lap to open the door. He climbs out, and holds his arm out to assist Zuko like a proper gentleman. He stands, blue eyes shining in the moonlight, eyebrow arched, smile soft and inviting.
Zuko can climb out of a carriage by himself, of course. He’s the damn Fire Lord.
He takes Sokka’s arm as he steps out of the carriage anyway.
Zuko follows Sokka into a small corner building. The windows are open to let the late summer breeze in, the fire-lit sconces on the walls illuminating what the moonlight couldn’t. There were tables and chairs and a bar, with people scattered about the establishment. A small three man band was playing in the front corner, singing hymns and folk songs and generally entertaining the crowd. The place was busier than expected at this late hour; though Republic City stays busy much later than the traditional people of the Fire Nation could bear.
Sokka finds a seat near the back at a small, empty table, where it’s a little quieter, a little more private. Zuko sits in the corner seat beside him, eyes wandering around the room.
“What is this place?”
“Fun,” Sokka shrugs, and holds two fingers up in the air at the man behind the bar. “We’re gonna celebrate.”
“Celebrate…what?”
“Why…Fire Lord Zuko is blessing the city with a visit.” Sokka grins, hands resting atop the center of the table, folded neatly together. “Gracing us mere peasants with his royal majesty’s presence.”
Zuko mirrors him, amused, placing his hands dangerously close to the warrior’s, hoping he’ll catch the hint he was trying to drop. Hoping Sokka will grab his hand like that night just two months ago - that Sokka will lace their fingers together, stare at him the way he had that night with strawberry wine coursing through his veins. Maybe this time Sokka will lean in closer and close the gap. The thought alone has Zuko’s heart aching with want.
“Oh, is that what you think of me? I’m just some stuffy royal?”
“And,” The warrior says, eyes bright in the candlelight. “-a jerkbender.”
“Agni forbid we ever move past that one,” Zuko murmurs, a smile pulling at his lips despite himself.
A waiter sets two short glasses on the table between them full of sake. Sokka holds his glass out to Zuko in a toast. Zuko taps his glass against Sokka’s with a gentle clink.
“Cheers, Fire Lord Hotman.” Sokka winks, eyes never leaving Zuko’s as he takes a sip.
His gaze is a bit intense, so Zuko takes a swig of his sake, averting his eyes to the table.
“So…how’s Republic City’s council been treating you?”
Sokka answers him, but Zuko is far too distracted by how unfairly pretty Sokka is. The way the shadows cast by the candlelight enhance the peaks and valleys of his sinewy muscles, the angle of his jaw, the veins from hard work in his hands. The boyish tilt of his grin stirs something deep within Zuko’s chest, something reserved for only Sokka. He really was so handsome Zuko could’ve dreamt him up.
Zuko vaguely wonders if he’s dreamt up this entire trip? If maybe this whole thing is all a dream, or maybe he’s mistaken the letters and the between-the-lines confessions to be more than just his one-sided, nearly decade old pinning. After all, surely Sokka has better suitors available to him, ones who don’t come from a long line of fuck ups, of a family with so many skeletons in their closet the door won’t even shut. Ones who didn’t come with so much emotional baggage. Suitors who didn’t have life-long responsibilities to the throne to complicate things. Suitors who, for better or for worse, are more well matched for him. They are quite different, after all.
His anxiety is eating a hole into his gut, nauseating him, until Sokka’s hand gingerly lands atop Zuko’s clenched fist in the center of the small table. The sudden touch makes the fire bender nearly jump out of his skin for the second time tonight, his stomach doing flips. It also silences his mind.
“-Hey, are you okay?” Sokka is looking at him, wide blue eyes full of concern, head tilted like a curious puppy. His hand on Zuko’s is firm, sending little electric shocks up his arm and directly to the fire bender’s heart.
“I-I’m fine.” Zuko manages to say, and reaches again for his sake with his free hand. He takes a lengthy sip to soothe his nerves, looking over his cup at the man before him in a way that he hopes comes across as assuring. He tries his best not to stare at their connected hands.
Sokka narrows his eyes slightly, furrows his brow just so, but does not question him further. He begins to remove his hand from Zuko’s, until the fire bender frowns and catches the retreating hand in his. To hell with being cool about things, Zuko decides, entwining their fingers together.
Sokka smiles, and is that relief in his eyes? Zuko couldn’t be sure. The warrior turned councilman brings his own cup to his lips with his free hand and takes a long swig.
Zuko watches as Sokka takes a sip, mesmerized by the sight before him, lips parted as he watches the slow movement of Sokka’s throat as he drinks the sake, wanting nothing more than to kiss just next to his bobbing Adam’s apple. Zuko finds himself hoping that Sokka’s cup is bottomless, that the sake refills itself all night, if only to keep them here - in this bubble where only they exist like this - for the rest of the night. He’s seen Sokka drink plenty over the years; though something about this particular time was…. deliberately hot. He was doing something on purpose, Zuko decides, cheeks growing hot.
Sokka sets his sake down on the table with a gentle thump. He licks his lips, eyes flicking down to Zuko’s, and smirks.
Zuko narrows his eyes at the man before him, annoyed that he clearly can’t keep his heart from shining in his eyes - cant keep his feelings hidden at bay anymore. Not even in his letters. Especially not in person. He was annoyed that Sokka wouldn’t make a more obvious move, even though they were on his playing field. And annoyed that Sokka looks this downright good just drinking his sake. He really was so handsome it was unfair.
They continue to catch up, telling stories of the council meetings in Republic City and royal court meetings back in the Fire Nation, as they finish their drinks. Zuko notices as their sake disappears, so does the distance between them; heads angled in as if spilling secrets, hands still entwined on the table. Sokka absentmindedly rubs soothing circles on the back of Zuko’s hand as he tells stories. Zuko loses his train of thought every time. He wonders if Sokka can feel his wanting wafting off of him.
“Do you want another,” Sokka asks, holding his glass up. He leans in close, so close Zuko thinks he might keep leaning in. “-or do you want to get out of here?”
On one hand, Zuko could sit in this bar until sunrise with Sokka. The night could stretch on, the two of them tucked into this little corner, drinking sake and exchanging stories, bodies angled towards each other in the most inviting way, touches and smiles lingering.
On the other hand, something shining in Sokka’s eyes told him it was time to leave.
Zuko bites his bottom lip, sneaking a glance at Sokka’s mouth.
“We can head out.”
Sokka smiles, so irritatingly smooth, drops a few coins onto the table, and jerks his head towards the exit. Zuko follows him out, allowing their hands to separate as they make their way through the crowd. He tries his best to ignore the way his chest aches, the way his hand feels too empty.
“So,” Sokka starts once they’re outside, and Zuko thinks they will finally talk about the elephantmonkey in the room. The letters.
“-we’ll have to walk home, cause I gave Bo the night off after he left us here and dropped your stuff off at my place.”
Zuko nods, face falling. That’s what he wanted to talk about?
“How far are we walking?” He asks, sneaking a sideways glance to Sokka. He wishes Sokka would grab his hand again.
“Not far. Just up the road.” Sokka shrugs, and his shoulder grazes Zuko’s as they make their way down the street and through Republic City. Zuko’s breath catches in the most embarrassing way.
If Sokka hears it, he doesn’t act like it.
Except Zuko can’t take it anymore; Sokka was so handsome in the moonlight, so inviting at the sake bar, downright breathtaking in the close quarters of the carriage. Something very near to romantic in his letters. His nonchalant behavior tonight would surely be the death of Zuko if he didn’t do something about it soon. His entire body felt like it was buzzing with nerves and want and anticipation.
The back of Zuko’s fingers brush slowly against Sokka’s on purpose, and he watches with bated breath as a blush creeps onto the warrior’s face. Something swells within Zuko’s chest, and he’s desperate to elicit that reaction again.
Sokka shoots him a sly look from the corner of his eyes, and hooks his pinky around Zuko’s.
Zuko does all he can to bite back his smile, heart soaring stupidly. It’s not exactly what he wants, but it’s a step in the right direction. He’ll take what he can get.
“So, Aang was excited for you to visit,” Sokka chirps out, pointedly staring forward into the city. “He wouldn’t shut up about it. He just finished the plans for Air Temple Island tonight. He can’t wait to show you.”
“I’d love to see it,” Zuko says, honestly. He can’t tear his gaze from the man beside him. “I bet it will be amazing.”
Sokka braves a fleeting glance in his direction.
“We can swing by his and Katara’s place tomorrow. Maybe around lunchtime. Or dinner, if they’re busy. She’ll be happy to see you, too.”
It takes Zuko a beat to recognize the tone of Sokka’s voice, and Zuko only then realizes that he’s been babbling like this all night…nervously. Like he did when they were teenagers. Like he did that night two months ago, wine drunk and beautifully honest.
And oh, how endearing it was.
“Speaking of Katara! She said something about when you arrive to tell you good luck, but she didn’t really-“
“Sokka.” Zuko murmurs, coming to a stop as he fully entwines their fingers in a moment of blind bravery. “Stop.”
The feel of his heart beating in his chest, anxiety thrumming in his very veins, how very warm and real and right Sokka’s hand is against his…. Zuko absently thinks he’s never felt more alive than in this moment.
Taking down his father and his regime, the Agni Kai with Azula, fighting off too many assassination attempts to count, finding his mother, endless world-saving trips, and this is the moment where he feels the most alive. Next to Sokka, fingers finally entwined, only slightly sake-buzzed.
Sokka looks like a moosedeer caught in the crosshairs of a firefight, wide eyes glancing up and down the street, a sort of quiet panic in his eyes. This street is much quieter than Main Street where the docks are, but there’s still passersby scattered about.
“What are you-“ He glances down at their interlocked hands.
The ice cold shock of panic settles in Zuko’s chest and he begins to drop Sokka’s hand; Maybe he really has mistaken this whole thing, maybe he was completely misreading the situation-
“I’m sorry, I-I must have misread-“
Sokka suddenly tightens his grip and yanks Zuko into an alleyway to press him against a rock building, left hand splayed across the fire bender’s chest to keep him in place, right hand still tightly entwined with his. Zuko has truly never been more confused.
“Zuko,” He breathes, blue eyes searching amber. “I’m-“
“What? Sokka, what is going on?”
Zuko tries to make sense of his head, thoughts whirling, tries to slow his breathing. The way Sokka looks in the dim moonlight, staring up at him with an intensity that has him gasping for air, mere inches away, is making his head spin. He could just reach out to touch him..
“Did you mean it?”
Zuko furrows his eyebrow, lost.
“You know. Did you mean it?” He swallows hard. “Yours?”
Yours,
Zuko
“Did you mean it like…that? Like I meant it?”
Zuko grins suddenly, one part bashful to two parts bold, realizing what the question actually means.
He wants to say of course he meant it. More than he’s ever meant anything in his life. He wants to tell Sokka so many things; how he’s had a stupid, giant, embarrassing, lame crush on him for a long time, how he waited for his letters with bated breath and heart thumping in his chest. How he immediately missed Sokka when Katara had whisked him away and sent Zuko to his own chambers. He wants to tell him of course, I always have been. I always will be. But he can’t find the words - he just nods desperately, all sentences and thoughts dying in his throat.
He thinks Sokka might say something from the way his mouth opens and closes, but instead he steps closer, pressing Zuko against the rock wall until their bodies are nearly touching chests-to-toes.
Zuko sighs audibly, subtly leaning in, eyes falling to Sokka’s mouth. He feels Sokka’s hands on him now, planted firmly on his hips, pressing him impossibly more flush against the wall. Zuko’s hands roam over Sokka’s bare arms, feeling the delightful swell of each and every muscle and the trail of goosebumps he leaves in his wake. The air is heavy with want and need and desire, all city noises long muted by the heartbeat in his ears. The tension is so thick you could melt it with fire, Zuko thinks, glancing from Sokka’s parted lips to his half lidded eyes.
Please, Zuko mentally begs, hands grasping desperately at Sokka’s arms. If this has him falling to pieces already, simply touching, just barely in each other’s spaces, he thinks if Sokka actually kisses him tonight that he might just die.
“Zuko, what if someone-“
“I don’t care, Sokka,” He breathes, meeting the warrior’s heavy lidded gaze. He’s almost embarrassed at how heartfelt he says it. He tries to ignore his heart pounding in his ears, the way his stomach turns over as he awaits Sokka’s response.
It’s almost painful to not close the distance between them, but Sokka looks like he’s got a mental battle going on inside his head, which he understands all too well, so Zuko sets his jaw. His willpower was truly being put to the test tonight.
“But your council-“
“They can shove it-“
“The letters-“
“Sokka, please, kiss me for spirit’s sake.” He bites out, pulling Sokka flush against him by the biceps. Their noses nearly clash together. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing else m-mph-“
He’s cut off by the firm pressure of Sokka’s desperate kiss, eyebrows shooting up in surprise as his head hits the stone wall behind him with an audible thud. He plants his hands on Sokka’s shoulders, gripping firmly for balance, and tilts his head to deepen the kiss. It’s desperate and needy and their teeth clatter together; but it’s perfect all the same. The throaty noise from Sokka’s parted lips nearly causes Zuko’s knees to buckle. His tongue swipes at the warrior’s mouth, gently sighing into the kiss.
Genuinely, Zuko muses somewhere in the back of his mind, his heart nearly bursting into flames, nothing else would ever matter more than this.
The way Sokka’s teeth pull at his bottom lip make his head spin, and he has to wrap his arms around the warrior’s shoulders to keep himself steady, to pull him even closer. He can’t get close enough. He refuses to allow any more space between them. Sokka’s leg comes between his own, pressing his hips firmly against Zuko and angled just so. He can feel a hardness growing there between them, and the low, desperate groan that escapes the Fire Lord surprises even himself, and when he feels Sokka smirking into his mouth and rocking his hips just a smidge firmer, he pulls back just enough to speak.
“Don’t laugh at me,” He grumbles, but Sokka immediately goes in for his jugular, licking a long line against his pulse there. Zuko audibly gasps, head jerking back against the rock wall behind him almost painfully. Surely he’s going to have a bump on his crown. “Sokka-”
The warrior places hot, open mouthed kisses up and down Zuko’s throat, tongue firm against his pale skin, encircling him in his arms to keep him close. Spirit’s sake, is he trying to kill him?
“Yes, Zuko?” His voice is steady, vibrating against the soft skin of Zuko’s throat, but Zuko can feel his hands trembling as they clutch at his lower back. It makes his head spin.
“We’re in a damn alleyway, for Agni’s sake.” He chokes out, only halfway scandalized. He slips his hands beneath Sokka’s tunic and presses them against the bare muscles of his back, desperately pulling Sokka closer, closer, closer. He wants no space between them ever again, for as long as he breathes. He could die right here and all would be well.
Sokka smirks against his throat, moving up to trail kisses along Zuko’s sharp jawline. He bites back another embarrassing moan as Sokka’s teeth scrape across his skin.
“My house was too far. I had questions.” Is all he offers as far as an explanation, continuing his assault on the Fire bender’s neck, voice innocent as ever. “Not that I really got to ask them. Someone was excited.”
Zuko grabs a handful of his tunic collar, unable to bite back his barking laughter.
“You’re an ass,” He says, shoving Sokka just far enough to get a look at him.
Sokka stood, lower body falling flush against Zuko’s, eyes shining brilliantly in the moonlight, strong arms wrapped around him. He was grinning, lopsided and beautiful, cheeks flushed just so.
Zuko reaches out to place a delicate hand to his cheek to make sure this moment was real; he found it hard to believe what was happening. Sokka looked ethereal under the moonlight, pressed against him and mussed from kissing. He really was so handsome that he truly belonged in an art gallery. Zuko could make that happen, he realized. He needed to find a painter the moment he gets home, he decides.
“Yeah, well..” Sokka shrugs, bringing his hand up to cover Zuko’s on his cheek. He places a quick kiss to the inside of his wrist, leaning into the firebender’s touch. His gaze softens now, freely roaming Zuko’s face. Pure yearning crosses his features, and Zuko feels like he could walk on air. Or maybe implode. Or kiss Sokka senseless, until there’s no more air left in the world for him to walk on or breathe in. Or maybe all of the above, if they’re all an option.
He senses that Sokka wants to ask him something; it’s in the way his brow furrows just slightly, the way his mouth tries to form around whatever thought is running through that brilliant brain of his.
“What, Sokka?” Zuko asks, hands gingerly falling to his exposed chest. “What is it?”
“What does this mean?” He finally whispers, eyes almost guarded, worry shining through. It clenches at Zuko’s heart.
Zuko pauses; what does this mean? What could it mean?
He thinks it could mean that he doesn’t have to spend the rest of his life hopelessly pining after his best friend, alone in his pain in his far too large palace. Fire Nation and Water Tribe be damned, he thinks, it could mean that they might be really good together. Despite and because of their differences. He thinks he would do anything in the world for Sokka, to have Sokka, in any way he’d let him. In the quiet of the shadows or shouting it from the mountain tops. Whatever Sokka wanted; Zuko would give it to him. Fire Nation laws be damned. He thinks it means he needs to confess all of this, however he can manage, until Sokka believes his every last word.
“What does this change?”
He hopes everything.
“Everything,” Zuko says, almost painfully earnestly, hands flying up to firmly cup Sokka’s face. “It means we’ll have to figure out a faster way of travel between Caldera and Republic City, or make my airship faster. You’ve got the beautiful brains for that, though. It means maybe eventually that the Fire Nation will need a live-in Water Tribe - I don’t know - advisor? Ambassador? Trading consultant? An engineer, perhaps? I’ll figure it out. I’ll make it up for you. Whatever you want. I-If you want that, I mean.”
Sokka smiles, small, disbelieving. He looks at Zuko like he was hanging each star in the sky just for him, and Zuko can’t help but place a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. He would do that for Sokka, if he could.
“I’d like that,” He whispers.
“It means I’d like to…stay the night.” Zuko says, tugging Sokka impossibly closer, more flush, needy in ways he’s finally allowed to be after silently pining for so long. “Forever. If you’ll have me.”
“Fire Lord Zuko,” Sokka teases, grip tightening on the small of Zuko’s waist. He arches his brow, and all Zuko can think is how he wants to kiss this silly man senseless in this dirty, dingy alleyway. “Is that a proposal?”
Zuko grins, resting his forehead against Sokka’s, noses brushing, breaths intermingling. Lips almost brushing.
“It’s whatever you want it to be,” He whispers, hands desperately clutching at the water tribe tunic. “A proposal, a job offer, a god damn official Fire Lord statement to the four nations - Whatever the hell you want, Sokka. Anything.” He places a gentle kiss to his lips. “Everything.”
“Tui and La, Zuko.”
Sokka looks overwhelmed, and before Zuko can think his next thought, Sokka is crashing his lips against the fire bender’s in a fierce kiss. Sokka is the needy one now, persistent, hands shamelessly roaming Zuko’s body as if they were not pressed against the side of a building in an alleyway for any passersby to witness. Zuko simply can’t bring himself to give a damn.
Zuko melts into the kiss, deciding he quite enjoys being ravaged in an alleyway, as long as it is at the hands of Sokka.
Sokka parts his lips to tongue at Zuko’s mouth, eliciting a delighted moan from his partner. He presses against him, trying to keep his balance as his head spins. He tries to say it all with his lips, tries to spill all of his confessions he’s locked up over the years, that he was too scared to write about in his letters. Tries to prove to Zuko just how serious he is about this- them.
At some point, he has to pull away for air. He nearly laughs at Zuko’s cloudy, slack jawed expression.
“Yes. To the job offer, or whatever else you’re proposing.” Sokka finally says, placing a kiss to Zuko’s forehead. “Yes to it all, as long as it’s you.”
Zuko laughs, something close to giddy. He can feel every cell in his body buzzing with excitement, with happiness, overwhelmed by his feelings for the man before him. Feelings he no longer has to keep locked up somewhere safe and secret. He’s truly never felt more alive.
“Take me home. Now.”
Sokka grins, placing another lingering kiss to Zuko’s lips.
“Thought you’d never ask, Jerkbender.”
And beneath the moonlight, they walk to Sokka’s home, hand in hand.
They can figure everything out tomorrow, Zuko decides. They have a lot of lost time to make up for tonight.
You're looking like an angel on the walls of Versailles
The most alive I've ever been
But kiss me and I might
Kiss me and I might
Kiss me and I might drop dead