Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Zuko lies awake clutching his most prized possession: a plush duck with a turtle shell, which his mother bought him when he was six, and was the only thing from “home” he took with him when he ran away.

He’s been sleeping with his turtleduck every night for twenty years. Twice as long as he even knew his mother.

He stares at the ceiling, having been shaken awake by another nightmare. This is a common occurrence. Has been since he was a kid. He’s learned to live with it (or so he lies to himself).

But he has a busy day tomorrow. Opening shift at the tea shop, volunteering at the crisis shelter, and a big audition he intends to put in at least another few hours of practice for. Which means no time to take a break after work. At all.

He gets up and throws on a pair of pants, grabs his cigarettes, and walks as quietly but quickly as he can to the fire escape. He doesn’t want to wake his dad or his sister, but he needs the change of scenery. Maybe that will help.

He keeps flicking his lighter long after it’s served its purpose, watching the little flames dancing on and off against the darkness.

It’s cold enough he can see his breath, but he’s always run hot. Maybe that’s why he’s so attached to fire after all the pain it’s caused him.

When he finishes smoking, he doesn’t even notice he’s putting the cigarette out on his arm until he’s already done it. He hardly feels it.

Oh well, what’s another burn scar. It’s not like fire can hurt him or obscure his appearance any worse than it already has. At least this one can be hidden. At least this one was in his control.

He strips off his pants again and curls back up into bed, with his oldest and most loyal friend, his beloved turtleduck, in his grasp. He pulls his blanket under his chin, nearly in the fetal position beneath it. He lies on his scarred side, too afraid to not be able to hear anything coming in his sleep. He’s far from the world’s heaviest sleeper, but if his right ear isn’t facing out then he might sleep through an emergency. It doesn’t matter his life stopped being constant chaos since he came to live here. He can’t risk that.

His scar aches from his nightmares, but he reminds himself it’s not real. It hasn’t caused him legitimate physical pain since he was thirteen, and that’s half a life ago. Whatever he feels now is all in his head, he knows that.

But fuck, it’s so loud in there.

He pets his turtleduck and rocks a little. He focuses on his breathing, tries to remember everything his therapist taught him.

Eventually he falls back into restless, uneasy sleep and wakes up in the morning feeling exhausted. But hey, it’s better than nothing.

***

Zuko loves the Jasmine Dragon, but he is convinced customer service should be applicable to acting résumés.

At least once a day, someone asks him what’s “wrong” with his face. And every time, he casually smiles and nods and pretends he didn’t hear them. And that’s on top of constantly having to be polite to the customers who blame him for giving them what they ordered when it suddenly turns out to be wrong. It’s a skill. It’s an art form.

Of course, Zuko had to learn how to act when he was very young. He didn’t get into it as a craft, no, but as a means of survival. Presenting his best face forward towards his father so he wouldn’t get hurt—of being okay, of being genuinely remorseful even when he wasn’t sure what he did wrong, of being happy and not terrified or sad or…

So it made sense when he started to learn it as a performance for fun and escape instead of a performance for just making it through the day. And considering all that accidental experience he gained in early childhood, it was never terribly surprising that he’s really, really good at it.

“Please leave,” Zuko sighs at a familiar burst of messy hair. “You’ve been 86’d from here for what, like, five years now? And I know you know that. Let’s not make a scene, okay?”

The polite smile and nod. A level volume. No shake in his voice. Talent.

It’s true, Jet was banished from the shop after he came in looking for a fight with Zuko several years back and Zuko, who was so angry and so much less timid back then, had no problem giving him one. Jet did the most damage by far, though, and he was the one who was dragged out by the cops.

And Zuko does not have the fucking energy to deal with this level of bullshit today. Besides, all cops are bastards (and he should know, he’s seen them barely try to pretend to “handle” enough domestic violence calls to last a lifetime), and he’d rather not see this interaction go down that way again even if for no other reason than to keep them out of here.

“What are you gonna do, tell your dad on me?” Jet looks so cocky, like Zuko won’t or something.

Or, even more fun, Zuko’s little sister could sic herself on him.

“If he doesn’t, you bet your ass I will,” Toph and her service dog walk over and she elbows Jet in the side, then she and Appa the Great Pyrenees move to block Jet from the counter and she puts her hands on her hips. “Or what, you gonna beat up a blind girl?”

“Okay, okay, I meant no trouble…” Jet raises his hands and walks backwards towards the door.

“Yeah, I’m so sure,” Zuko shakes his head. “Thanks for the save, Toph. I seriously don’t have the spoons for this.”

“You know Dad will let you go early if you tell him that.”

“Yes, I do know he will. Which is why I can’t. It’s busy as hell and I’m the only other person here.”

“Also, Teo and I are covering for you at the shelter later and this is not up for debate. I may be blind, but you and I both know I can still kick your ass.”

“Toph…”

“Don’t ‘Toph’ me, Zuko. Listen, they still have a lot of work to do in terms of accessibility and Teo and I have a ton of new ideas written up, so this will give us a good chance to present those. Also, Teo’s dad just upgraded the hand gears on his car and he’s been really excited to drive around with it, so it gives him an excuse to have more fun with his new toy.”

“Fine…”

“Also, do you need a ride to your audition tonight? Teo said he can take you.”

“Nah, Dad’s gonna drive me. Tell him thank you, though.”

“Sweetness. Now, get back to your customers or whatever. Love you, bro.”

“Love you, too.”

“Come on, Appa! Yip, yip!”

Zuko laughs a little watching Toph leave and feeling the harsh breeze that sneaks in through the front door before it closes behind her. She’s been his sister for ten years and he still can’t get over the fact that he’s never once seen her in real shoes, sporting sandals literally no matter what the weather is like.

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. Katara drops by right before the end of his shift for a Black Sun—a triple caffeinated orange pekoe with an absurd amount of sugar and just a few drops of lemon extract they added to the menu all for her—after a night shift at the hospital and before her Yang tai chi class, and to wish Zuko luck later.

“Aww, what, are you not coming?” he asks her with a playful scowl.

“I’m gonna try!” she shouts as she picks up her tea. “I gotta show my brother around the theatre so as long as I don’t crash too early! But! My modern dance recital is on Saturday and you and Iroh should definitely come to that, please! Anyway, shit, I gotta go! Break a leg!”

“Okay, I’ll let him know,” Zuko tries to say, but she’s already long gone, and then Haru is coming in to relieve him.

“And Toph thinks I work too hard,” he mutters to himself as he checks his drawer.

Once he has everything in order, he slips out for a cigarette without his dad seeing (not that he doesn’t know, but he does not like it and Zuko hates to disappoint him), and then checks his phone to see how much time he has to drill these monologues.

He has four hours. He takes a deep breath and tells himself he can make it.

***

“Hello, Zuko here,” he introduces himself at the door to the Ember Theatre. He laughs awkwardly at Ming, the kind greeter and sort-of security at the front desk, even though he’s met her a million times already, and she smiles back at him.

“Good to see you, Zuko,” she says as she passes him a sign-in sheet. “And good to see you, too, Iroh! You know, I was just telling a friend of mine about that ginseng and jasmine blend you added to your menu. Still can’t beat your white jade, though.”

“Always a pleasure, Ming. Make sure to say hi next time you come in! Next cup is on the house.”

“Will do, Iroh. Good luck, Zuko.”

“Thanks! Come on, Dad, I gotta get backstage!”

Zuko’s nerves are in full force now, and he bolts through the theatre until he reaches the very back of it, knees crashing onto the familiar stairwell.

“I’ll be in the front row!” he hears calling after him just before slamming open the door to the stairs, and then he reaches into his bag to clandestinely rub his plush turtleduck while he tries to breathe.

Zuko also rubs the cigarette burn on his arm through his shirt with his other hand, taking another few seconds before forcing himself to stand up and get ready.

Until he feels something brushing past his left side and damn near jumps out of his skin.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” the man coming down the stairs immediately starts almost yelling. Zuko hopes they can both pretend he didn’t just scream because a stranger grazed him as he tried to sneak by without bothering him.

“It’s…it’s okay,” Zuko says between ragged breaths. “I’m in the way. Sorry about that.”

He’s staring at his scar, like he’s trying to piece together its existence and his reaction. Like he somehow knows they’re connected.

“You here for the auditions?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, cool. I’ll probably see you around, then. Nice to meet you. I’m Sokka.”

Sokka extends his hand, and Zuko thinks it’s to shake but as soon as he takes it Sokka is effortlessly pulling him to his feet.

“Uh. Hi. Sokka. I, umm, I’m Zuko. Yes, hello. Zuko.”

“Nice to meet you, Umm Yes Hello Zuko.” Sokka smirks at his own dumb tease, but he has an awkward quality to him Zuko knows well. He carries himself with a strength and confidence Zuko could only fantasize about ever being able to pull off even as an actor, but there is something different there. It’s in his eyes. For as beautiful as they are, there’s a light that’s just…missing.

And Zuko recognizes seeing where light should be but isn’t from his own experience with mirrors.

“Break a leg!” Sokka calls as Zuko runs through the stairwell, and he smiles to himself watching his new acquaintance disappear.

And all Sokka can think to himself is how much he wants to put that man’s dick in his mouth.

***

“Wow, this play is fucking sad,” Sokka notes completely casually as he flips through pages of a copy of Long Day’s Journey into Night with notes scribbled all throughout the margins and highlighter marks popping out, walking around the common area all the potential actors are hanging out in. “Why the fuck would anyone do this to themselves?”

“It’s cathartic,” Zuko answers Sokka’s rhetorical question without thinking. “Acting in it, at least. Not sure about watching, but…you know. Some people have super fucked up families. Doing this kind of shit helps.”

Sokka cocks his head like he has a question he isn’t sure he should ask, and he decides he shouldn’t. But then, in typical Sokka fashion, he does it anyway.

“Super fucked up families? I thought you had, like, the best dad ever?”

Zuko looks incredibly confused, and Sokka realizes Zuko has no context for who he is and how fucking creepy that must have sounded from his perspective.

“Sorry, uh, my sister talks about your dad all the time. Like, all the time. I think, anyway. You are the guy from the Jasmine Dragon, right?”

Sokka quite deliberately leaves out the “she has also told me a thousand times how bad she wants to set us up because she’s annoying like that but by god, I might just let her.”

Zuko actually laughs as he figures out who he’s speaking to. “Oh, you must be Katara’s brother!”

“Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

“Well, uh, yeah, that’s also me.” Zuko sets down the script he’s still been poring over and looks at Sokka. “And she’s right, my dad is the best. But, umm, he wasn’t always my dad. He used to be my uncle. Until he took me in and raised me as his own. But that’s a long story. Anyway, suffice it to say I was drawn to this play for a reason.”

Being so forward with a complete stranger is new. Maybe it’s just because he trusts Katara that he feels so naturally inclined to extend that trust to Sokka.

“Oh, umm, got it. Sorry, man.”

Zuko is oddly delighted by how Sokka uses “umm” and “uh” and trips over normal human conversation as much as Zuko himself does. It is a stark contrast from his physical appearance, too. He carries himself with confidence, tall and muscular. But underneath it all is a fellow ball of social anxiety.

“It’s all good,” Zuko assures him. “My biofam’s not actually like the Tyrones or anything but…I understand the chaos, I guess.”

He chooses “chaos” over “toxicity” or “pain”—or, more accurately, all three—but his point makes it across. He leaves it at that, and then Sokka is loudly running across the room and shouting his sister’s name.

“Katara, you came! And here I thought you were gonna leave me all alone to figure out the layout by myself!”

“Sure, like you couldn’t do it.” Katara rolls her eyes, and Zuko chuckles watching them.

“Zuko!” Katara is then dragging Sokka by the hand back over to him, and he appreciates Katara’s enthusiasm but he is also ready to snap because he just wants to study these fucking lines in peace.

“Zuko, meet my brother Sokka!”

“Uh, we met,” Zuko replies, and he hopes he doesn’t sound as short out loud as he does in his head.

“Oh! Okay, great! Sokka, Zuko is the most brilliant actor you’ll ever see here. And Zuko, Sokka’s the new set designer!”

“I build the set pieces, too,” Sokka laughs. “Don’t sell me short.”

“Ha, ha. And as you can see, he’s so humble!”

Sokka is compensating for a sense of personal lacking in his defensive tone, but that’s not something to bring up in front of strangers, or for that matter to a stranger.

This whole exchange has, alas, ruined Zuko’s plan of sitting in a corner by himself blasting the Requiem for a Dream soundtrack through his headphones while fighting off his ever growing anxiety about the role he logically knows he has in the bag, as he’d been doing at home since he got out of work, but there’s something so strangely nice about this that he doesn’t have it in him to complain despite his underlying snippiness.

“Ten minutes!” Piandao warns the actors all gathered together. “Everyone, be ready!”

“I’m gonna go sit with Iroh,” Katara tells Zuko. “Aang should be out there, too. Is your sister coming?”

“No idea,” Zuko shrugs, begrudging he no longer has time to cake makeup over his scar like he forgot to do before they left. Not that everyone here hasn’t seen it, but it usually boosts his confidence at least a tiny bit to try to hide it. “If you see her, don’t forget to remind Aang not to pet Appa unless she’s sitting, okay? He’s a good boy, but he’s working.”

“No problem, Zuko. Sokka, come on! Sit with me!”

Katara once more grabs her brother by the hand, and Sokka offers Zuko a small and uncertain wave as they prance away. It’s obvious in how she moves that she’s a dancer, and how easily Sokka is able to follow her makes Zuko wonder if he’s had any kind of training, too.

Katara introduces Sokka to Iroh as they and Aang sit beside him, and then Toph and Appa settle in next to them, with Teo and Haru right behind.

A moment later, Sokka leans in to whisper in his sister’s ear.

“So, uh, that’s the super hot guy from the tea shop you were telling me about? Because, damn.”

“I can hear you,” Toph deadpans. “That whole thing about hearing better when you can’t see? Yep, not always a myth, and I got that.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Sokka groans. “Uh, sorry. I’m Sokka.”

“I figured,” Toph laughs at Sokka’s growing discomfort, at how she can feel him sinking in his seat with so little space between them. “Calm down, you’re fine. I’ve heard a lot that my brother’s hot. Like, way too often. But it is what it is, so you’re part of the club or whatever now. Also, for the record, he’s gay and single. So, have fun. Go. Be free.”

“Oh my god,” Sokka says into his hands, not feeling any better about this at all.

Piandao, Pakku, Jeong, and Bumi all sit down in a reserved row off to the side, all four of them carrying large, heavy notebooks with scripts overtop of them.

“First up,” Jeong calls. “Zuko Aki.”

Zuko reminds himself to breathe and walks out on stage. From the front, he sees Iroh’s large and encouraging grin, joined by his raising his arms with both thumbs up.

“My name is Zuko Aki and I’ll be reading for the part of Edmund Tyrone.”

Except he isn’t reading anything, already off book for the audition. No one at this small theatre company ever expects their actors to do this, but Zuko does every time.

And as he shifts himself from Zuko to Edmund, just like that his hands stop shaking. He becomes someone else. He becomes the role.

“‘The fog was where I wanted to be.’” Everything is different. The pitch of his voice, his posture. The auditorium goes silent. No one can take their eyes off of him.

“‘Halfway down the path you can’t see this house. You’d never know it was here. Or any of the other places down the avenue. I couldn’t see but a few feet ahead. I didn’t meet a soul. Everything looked and sounded unreal. Nothing was what it is. That’s what I wanted—to be alone with myself in another world where truth is untrue and life can hide from itself.’”

His voice shakes and there’s a hint of cracking, but it’s intentional. He isn’t nervous, he’s immersed. He slurs ever so slightly, ever so carefully, mimicking the impairment of alcohol without sacrificing his perfect diction.

“‘Out beyond the harbor, where the road runs along the beach, I even lost the feeling of being on land. The fog and the sea seemed like part of each other. It was like walking on the bottom of the sea.’”

He stares off as though lost, again making a choice. His tone becomes wistful, exerting fragility and longing. And then his gaze hardens, his body stiffens, but he does not lose that glaring ache.

“‘As if I had drowned a long time ago. As if I was a ghost belonging to the fog, and the fog was the ghost of the sea. It felt damned peaceful to be nothing more than a ghost within a ghost.’”

He becomes firmer with each word, building up a fierce determination but simultaneously breaking into smaller pieces with every syllable, capturing such nuanced layers of emotion a few members of the audience are starting to cry.

He’s amazing.

“‘Don’t look at me as though I’d gone nutty. I’m talking sense. Who wants to see life as it is, if they can help it?’”

The slur heightens, but it is again ever so slight, pushing the drunken aspect without losing anything of the words he is speaking.

“‘It’s the three Gorgons in one. You look in their faces and turn to stone. Or it’s Pan. You see him and you die—that is, inside you—and have to go on living as a ghost.’”

He almost growls the “inside you,” and then he quiets and drags out those very last four words, throaty but breathy and desperate.

And then, as easily as he slipped in, he slips out, and he bows to the casting committee and thanks them, and his hands are already trembling again before he exits the stage.

Even he can hear Sokka’s too loud “holy shit” over the applause as he disappears behind the curtain, and he quickly finds his bag and his turtleduck. He still doesn’t pull it out, doesn’t let anyone else see it, but he squeezes it in one hand while the other hastily unbuttons his black dress shirt and frees his ratty old Nine Inch Nails tee (a good luck charm, having worn it to every successful audition he’s ever had in this theatre), as he is now sweltering in the extra layer.

No one pays him any mind, thankfully, as every ounce of adrenaline the stage conjured leaves him, and he is overcome by searing physical pain as a result.

He presses the left side of his face against the closest wall, ignoring the psychosomatic pain it causes in favor of ensuring he’ll be able to see and hear anyone approaching him, and he tries his best to breathe through the dizzying sensation of the very real present pain he has to carry as a permanent souvenir of the constant physical trauma he suffered as a young child.

Iroh, Toph, Katara, Aang, Teo, Haru, and Sokka are quick to find him.

“It’s a little rude not to watch the other performances, don’t you think?” he jokingly huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Dude,” Sokka exclaims. “That was…wow. Seriously. You should be on fucking Broadway.”

“Yeah, because Broadway makeup artists have time to deal with me.”

“Zuko,” Iroh utters his name sternly, but not aggressively. This is why he’s Zuko’s real dad. “Be polite.”

“Sorry. Umm. Thank you, Sokka. I appreciate that. I actually really do. Just…yeah.”

“You’re cool, no worries.” Sokka is soft, gentle, sincere. Zuko can’t help but find it calming.

Zuko also appreciates Sokka not questioning having walked in on Zuko having a semi-public emotional collapse. Everyone else present knows this is part of the acting experience for him, but it’s new to Sokka and he’s grateful not to have to explain it.

“Okay. Okay.” Zuko steadies himself, although his limbs still have other ideas, and starts to stand up. His head starts pounding, but he’s accustomed to this enough that he can push it down until he gets home and can take his medication. “We should go out. Watch the rest.”

Sokka’s eyes are filled to the brim with concern, but he keeps it to himself. He knows this isn’t the time or the place.

Appa stays close to Zuko as they head back out into the auditorium, and Sokka can tell he’s been trained to respond to whatever’s going on with Zuko as much as he’s there to help Toph. His primary job is to be her guide, but she links arms with Zuko as they walk to make it easier on him.

A lovely woman named Sela, whose husband and sons are cheering for her a few rows behind, is absolutely nailing the role of Mary as they take their seats. Sokka notices, too, how very carefully Zuko and his family arrange themselves: Iroh to his left, Toph to his right.

And Sokka is blatantly staring. Katara nudges him gently, and he turns his head for a split second and looks a little embarrassed, but then he goes right back.

Aang and Haru are whispering to each other about it, but Zuko doesn’t notice. Sokka is on Zuko’s left.

Sokka makes a mental note of this.

Just like he sure as hell isn’t forgetting what Toph said to him about Zuko earlier.

***

Zuko crashes face first into bed as soon as he sees it, turtleduck already in hand. His bedroom is small, and he can easily reach all the pill bottles on the nightstand. With great effort he stretches himself all around to unzip his Docs and then throws them to wherever they land, and clumsily reaches for the bottle of iced tea from work next to the bed.

He makes himself raise his body just enough to be able to pick up the correct medications, using his phone’s flashlight as opposed to getting up for the lightswitch.

Lamictal, a mood stabilizer. Zyprexa, an atypical antipsychotic with migraine relieving implications. Prazosin, for nightmares. Keppra, an anticonvulsant. Maxalt, for the acute treatment of migraines. He considers the Ativan but decides against it, and adds a couple of naproxen and a diphenhydramine to the mix instead.

He forces off his pants and throws them in the direction of his boots, not bothering with his shirt or his socks, plugs in his phone, and falls asleep thinking of the warmth in Sokka’s eyes.

Chapter Text

The sound of dishes shattering. Crashing over screaming. He hurt her. He hurt her again. She’s leaving. No, no, no, no, no. She can’t leave. She can’t. What happens if she’s gone? No, please.

There are bruises on her face, on her arms. She is covered in purples and yellows and blues and blacks like paint splatter, but there is nothing beautiful about it. This is not art, this is destruction.

She picks him up. He is ten years old and too big to lift like this, but she scoops him into her arms and grabs Azula’s hand.

“You take those kids and you die, bitch.”

“I am not leaving my children with you. I won’t let you hurt them.”

She squeezes Zuko because he’s the one who’ll be hurt. He’s never laid a hand on Azula. Zuko has never understood why.

“You want to go? Go. Fine. Get the hell out of here and don’t ever let me see your face again. But you take those kids and I. Will. Find. You.”

Possession. Ownership. Entitlement. Not love. Not fatherhood.

Azula pulls her hand away and runs to her father. There is a brief glimmer of fear in her eyes, but then she smiles.

Zuko starts crying, which makes Ozai laugh. Azula laughs, too. She’s learning so well.

Zuko is set back down, his mother’s tear streamed face locks eyes with his own.

“Zuko, my love, I can’t… I am so sorry.”

She’s worried that if they leave together, Ozai will kill them both. She’s worried Ozai will kill him. Zuko is not too young to figure that out, even if he probably should be.

“You should go. Go be safe. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you. I…”

With a loud sob she turns and walks out, and a ceramic teapot Iroh had gotten Zuko for his birthday breaks hitting the door behind her. Zuko glances at Ozai, whose arm is still in the same position from having thrown the teapot, and then he turns on Zuko.

He lifts him by his hair and slams him into a wall. He hits him again and again, shouting in his face to shut the fuck up and stop crying.

It doesn’t matter that Zuko’s bruises will match his mother’s. Officer Zhao has been here countless times and he always has Ozai’s back. The neighbors can report anything and everything all they want, it is always Zhao and Zhao will always look the other way, will always take Ozai’s side.

Zuko doesn’t know what hurts more: the physical blows, the emotional baggage they create, the helplessness, or the knowledge he just lost the only person in the house who cares about him.

Now he’s all alone, and that is only going to make this so much worse. He is ten years old and has already started contemplating taking his own life.

Zuko wakes up in his bed, in his room in his home above the Jasmine Dragon, knowing his real dad and his real sister are close by and that they’ll never hurt him.

He rolls over and picks up his phone. He Googles his mom’s name. He tries her maiden name and her married name. Ursa, Ursa…

He does this at least once a day. There are never any results.

He’s often wondered if she’s changed it. If she is out there somewhere, living under a whole new identity, safe and free. He’d probably have done that if he’d been in her shoes. Hell, the only reason he didn’t change his after he left was because his mom picked Zuko and he also shares a last name with Iroh, and that makes the name okay. And if she was dead, her name would probably still show up in his searches.

She’s gone now, either way. Out of reach. He doesn’t blame her for leaving. He’s glad she did. But he has missed her so much ever since.

He’s grateful she’s never had to see his face, though. He remembers her as kind and loving to a fault. He’s not sure she’d be able to live with herself if she saw how much worse her absence had made his life.

She’ll never see his arms or his psych records. There is a solace in that. It leaves him feeling so fucking empty, but she’s been spared the worst.

She’s never had to see this face.

He rubs his scar. He’s resigned himself to knowing he’s never going to stop feeling it. Even though, for the most part, he can’t actually feel that side of his face at all. But between his spotty yet all too intense memories of how he got it, with all the neuralgia and myalgia and arthralgia the abuse left him with, the traumatic brain injury that accompanied his scar and the long term effects from that, plus the chronic tinnitus that does nothing good for his migraines and the sensory changes…he knows he’s never going to stop hurting. He’s seen so many rheumatologists and neurologists, he has an incredible therapist and psychiatrist. His dad—Iroh—has done everything in his power to help Zuko through everything his “father”—Ozai—did to him.

The nightmares are better than they used to be, thank god. Prazosin has been a miracle. But they’re far from gone. And he knows they never will be.

“‘The fog was where I wanted to be,’” he whispers to himself. Callbacks will be happening over the next few days, and everyone knows he’s all but guaranteed the role.

And he has to admit to himself, as much as he wanted this part before, it’ll be nice to have to be so close to Sokka while it’s happening. Sokka seems kind. And Sokka is gorgeous. It’s a win-win.

But Zuko recites the line now because of how much it resonates. There’s a reason he chose that specific monologue for this audition. He feels the fog, he feels the blurring of the lines, he feels the unreality, he feels the sinking and the drowning, he feels being trapped as a living ghost. He feels the ghost of himself. He feels the fog. He’s not certain it’s where he wants to be, but it’s his home all the same.

Sokka said he should be on Broadway. That was sweet of him. But that’s beyond what’s possible, and he’s learned to be okay with that. He knows the Ember Theatre and the connections he has from the White Lotus Performing Arts Camp his dad encouraged him to participate in as a teenager, and they know him. They won’t be picky about his scar. They’ll give him space if he has a panic attack or a meltdown. They’ll be patient with his physical limitations. They know how to rearrange the actors so Zuko can see and hear everything he needs to. They’ve learned to recognize the microexpressions that indicate he’s in too much pain to continue (although that one did take them a while, because acting). They know how to handle it if he falls or passes out, as these things happen. And more than that, he’d never want the fame or the glory that would come from taking such a leap, even if he could make it. He’d rather stay here, where it’s safe and he’s protected.

He’d like to think he’s done the best he can with what he has. And he knows how fucking lucky he is to have everything he does now.

This is where he belongs. This is where he wants to be. And it’s fine. It really is.

Iroh once told him that “life happens wherever you are, whether you make it or not,” and he’s learned to make the most of that. He has made his life here. Where he’s supposed to be.

***

“So, you like Zuko, huh?” Suki teases.

She’s been Sokka’s best friend for years, and now she’s helping him unpack in their new apartment together. She’s been here a month already while Sokka took a trip to deal with some things back home, and it’s nice to finally have the chance to settle in.

“There’s…something about him,” Sokka says between sorting through a box of shoes.

“He is super hot,” Mai, Suki’s metamour, chuckles. “If I were into dudes, I’d definitely want to hit that.”

“It’s not that.” Sokka sets aside his fifth pair of Chuck Taylors, and Suki laughs at him with every new color of the same fucking shoe he pulls out. “I mean, he is, but… I don’t know, I can’t put my finger on it. There’s something deeper. I can feel it. Just take my word for it, okay?”

“You don’t even know him,” Mai counters. “Although, I guess you’re not wrong. But don’t ask me to spill anything. Just know he’s been through a lot and if you hurt him, I will intimately introduce you to my knife collection.”

“Umm. Yes, ma’am. Got it. Loud and clear.”

“She’s just fucking with you, Sokka.” Suki throws a wrinkled Mastodon shirt from one of his piles at him. “But we are very protective of Zuko. I honestly think you two would be really good together but…keep that in mind.”

“Okay but you know now I’ll be afraid to even fucking look at him, much less talk to him, right?”

“Sokka, for the love of god, how many fucking blue Converse do you need?” Suki shakes her head, and she throws another of his own t-shirts at him, this one with a My Chemical Romance logo on it.

“That pair is cyan,” he points. “That pair is cerulean. That pair is navy. And that pair is sequined. I am a man of many needs. It’s called nuance, Suki.”

“But Sokka,” Suki pauses, looking up a bit too seriously. “Talk to Zuko. I meant it, you two could be really good together. And you deserve each other. Just, take it slow with him.”

“I… Okay.” Sokka does feel drawn to him, it’s true. It was easy at first to put it all down to Zuko’s looks and sexual attraction, because that just makes basic sense when it comes to a person he’s met all of once, but he wasn’t lying when he told Mai it’s deeper than that. It’s instinctual. He doesn’t understand it, but he has a need to get closer to this man. But for now, he’s done discussing it. “Oh look, Suki, this pair is arctic blue! And this pair is azure!”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.”

***

Zuko’s off, but he’s at the tea shop anyway. He feels safe here. The space is both comfortable and comforting.

He and his friends are also taking up half the fucking seating. Haru is working but he stops to chat at every free moment. And sitting and sipping tea with Zuko is not only Toph but Teo, Katara, Aang, Suki, Mai, Ty Lee, and…Sokka.

Therefore Zuko is currently trying not to think too hard about what Toph woke him up with this morning, “‘Sup, nerd. Sokka likes you. Thought you should know.”

Sokka is getting to know everyone. He’s very close with Suki and has met Ty Lee before, and he and Katara have a good relationship which means he also knows Aang rather well, but he’s still pretty new to everyone else.

“So, they are finally going to set up some of the seating at the theatre so I don’t have to park myself in the aisles anymore,” Teo says excitedly. “They always yell at me for fucking with fire code, so I always have to ask them where the hell they expect me to go instead. But they finally started listening, and a few rows are going to have empty spaces on the far ends reserved for wheelchairs. Piandao said he’ll make sure the renovations get started right away, and he seems to think they’ll be able to get it done by the time the next show premieres.”

“That’s amazing,” Zuko smiles. And Sokka is transfixed because he, like, smiles. And the whole room lights up. “I’m so sorry it took so long. I thought all the White Lotus people there and Dad being friends with all of them, I’d be able to push things along better than I could. But I’m really excited it’s finally happening!”

“Next up, sign language interpreters and programs in braille,” Toph chimes in. She has single handedly ensured most of the bars and restaurants in the city have introduced braille menus, so it’s far from unrealistic to believe she’ll get this done, too.

“And just for fun, Haru is going to start teaching braille at the community center next month,” Teo adds, and Toph sneers.

“I wanted to do it, but apparently they were afraid my teaching style would be too ‘harsh’ because I’m not ‘patient.’” She’s laughing a little, though, because she knows it’s true. “I am still legit kind of pissed they also wanted someone seeing to do it. Couldn’t make the accessibility classes accessible enough, I guess. But like, shouldn’t it be someone else who actually uses it every day who teaches? I love Haru but he could forget all about how to read it tomorrow and his life wouldn’t change at all. Mine would.”

“Maybe I should have volunteered,” Zuko smiles that smile again. “Get the best of both worlds.”

“Huh?” Sokka has a reason to be looking at him now, at least.

“Oh yeah, I forgot not everyone knows.” Zuko shrugs, and his tone is nonchalant but that could easily be another act. “And I guess I just kind of assume at this point that people can, I don’t know, tell. But umm, I’m…I’m kind of, sort of blind in my left eye.”

“Kind of, sort of?” Sokka isn’t mocking him, he simply wants to understand exactly what Zuko’s telling him, if he is confirming part of Sokka’s suspicions, and Zuko doesn’t question it.

“I, uh, yeah. I am. Blind in that eye, I mean.” He neglects to mention anything about his left ear, but he decides it’s okay because no one asked. He knows it looks a bit different, as well, but it’s nowhere near on the same level as his eye and his long hair usually covers it, so it’s not as obvious to the average person and strangers don’t typically figure that out like they do his partial blindness.

“I bet you play a mean game of pool,” Sokka says warmly. “You know, how people tend to close one eye to get a good shot. You wouldn’t have to do that, right?”

“Actually, yeah, I am pretty decent at it,” Zuko laughs. “Having no fucking depth perception sucks a lot of the time, but I’m mostly pretty used to it and I guess there is one advantage.”

Sokka has a way of brightening even the bleakest of topics. Zuko isn’t sure he has ever found someone so endearing so early.

“Would you like to get a drink sometime?” Sokka just fucking goes for it, and all of their friends’ eyes shoot straight to him. He ignores it.

“Uhh, yeah. Yeah, I would like that.”

“Are you coming to Katara and Ty Lee’s show tomorrow? Maybe we could do something after?” Sokka rubs the buzz of his undercut, which is exposed by the length of his hair being up in a high ponytail, running his fingers along both sides without paying his own actions any mind.

Zuko thinks that must feel nice. He’d like to try it.

“Yeah. Uh, yeah.” Zuko has no idea what he’s doing, but now he has to follow through on it or he’ll never hear the end of it from Toph or Katara, and Mai will probably be quick to gang up on him, as well. “Ty Lee, I didn’t know you were in it, too!”

“Barely,” Ty Lee sighs. “I miss being able to star. It’s bullshit I’m not allowed to anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Sokka asks, and Ty Lee sighs harder. She is legitimately upset by this subject, but Zuko has been helpful to talk to about it and she’s slowly becoming more open as a result.

“I’ve always been super bendy,” she begins to explain. “Like, contortionist level. It always came easy, I never had to work for it. So I learned to dance, got into performing. At one point I was on track to get into Cirque du Soleil. And then one day I fell and couldn’t get up. I had dislocated my hips and one of my knees. And that’s how I learned I’m not flexible, I’m hypermobile. Which sounds the same, but it’s not. Flexibility is stretching the muscles, hypermobility is tied to the ligaments. And my abilities aren’t talent, they’re symptoms of a degenerative connective tissue disorder. I can do fun tricks because I’m basically literally falling apart on the inside. So ever since I got diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, I’m not allowed to overextend anymore. The more I do all those fun tricks I can do, the worse I make the disease. Which blows. And means getting sidelined.”

“You are talented, Ty Lee,” Katara assures her. “Shitty collagen didn’t give you the ability to dance. Bend, sure, but your skill is all your own. I’ve never seen anyone who can take to new choreography as quickly and as seamlessly as you, and you’ve learned so many adjustments for your joints all on your own. Don’t put yourself down like that.”

“Thanks,” Ty Lee replies shyly, and both of her girlfriends, Suki on one side and Mai on the other, nuzzle their cheeks into her shoulders to make her giggle, which works.

“Also as a nurse I have to tell you it is not bullshit you’re not allowed to do everything you used to,” Katara pulls out her mom voice. “Everyone’s just looking out for you.”

“Fine, fine. Yes, Mom.”

“And the only nurse I know who could put everyone in this room in the hospital with their eyes closed,” Sokka points out.

“And exactly how many nurses do you know, Sokka?”

“Touché. But seriously, I’ve seen her fight. Don’t fuck with her. Just sayin’.”

“On the plus side, baby, that’s also why your skin’s so soft,” Suki smirks, and Ty Lee blushes.

“So yeah, we’ll all be there tomorrow? Right? Please?” Katara is so excited, and everyone nods.

“All these fucking broken gay artsy nerds gotta stick together, right?” Toph snickers.

“That is typically how that works, yes,” Sokka replies.

Zuko wants to ask him if he’s any kind of artist, too. After all, not all of them actually fit into every part of Toph’s description. Toph doesn’t practice any art forms, herself, for instance, and Haru has a relatively happy homelife and appears to have made it through life thus far largely unscathed. And he gets she’s using “gay” as a blanket term, but Zuko isn’t one hundred percent certain of everyone’s sexuality (although Toph would just call any outliers gay by association and laugh hysterically at herself for it).

Little does Zuko know, Sokka does happen to have several sketchbooks and a wide variety of pencils in the oversize backpack at his feet under the table. He never lets anyone see his work, though. He’s certain it’s all terrible, and for as much as he loves to sit around the city and sketch out his surroundings, those portraits are always for his eyes only. It’s a relaxation technique, nothing more.

But he hopes he later gets a chance to draw Zuko. Maybe he’ll paint him. That would make for some damn fine art. Even if he’ll likely keep it hidden.

Chapter Text

Sokka always trusts his gut. His instincts very rarely let him down. It’s not impossible, but it sure as fuck isn’t likely.

He also has a long history of deflecting his emotions by any means necessary.

So when he watched a panicked man scream after all Sokka did was walk near him, it’s not terribly surprising his first thought was “I want to pound him into the mattress so hard the shape of his body leaves a permanent impression,” regardless of how extraordinarily inappropriate that thought was in context.

Because his actual gut instinct was to take him in his arms and tell him no one was here to hurt him. But he was sure that would be unwelcome from a complete stranger, and it was a little strange to experience such instant affection for a complete stranger, so “hooboy is he beautiful, and that has to be what makes me want to touch him” promptly took over.

Which Katara and Suki are still laughing at him about, but it’s fine.

But he can’t help questioning his usually impeccable instincts now. It just doesn’t make any fucking sense to him, and he isn’t sure what to do with it.

“Aang, you know everything, right?” Sokka asks his future brother-in-law, and Katara lightly smacks the back of his head.

Sokka loves Aang dearly, but he’s not exactly comfortable seeking his advice. Although that doesn’t seem to be stopping him now. It’s simply that they’ve always butted heads on matters of their belief systems, as Sokka has always been one to draw his beliefs from science and reason and nothing else, while Aang has always been deeply spiritual.

Sokka’s never really understood it, but if there is any wisdom to be drawn from it now, he will happily take it.

“No, Sokka, I don’t.” Aang responds firmly like Sokka’s serious, but his face breaks fast. “But for real, what’s up?”

“Why am I so nervous about seeing Zuko again? Why can’t I stop thinking about him? I don’t know him, man, this is…weird.”

“Everything is connected, Sokka. Everything, and everyone. We don’t always see it—we can’t always see it—but sometimes even the most closed off of us are hit with a force so strong we can’t stop ourselves from following it.”

Sokka tries his best not to roll his eyes, he truly does. “Okay, Aang, now you’re telling me you believe in soulmates?”

“Not soulmates. Just…connection. Powerful connection. Something deep inside you recognizes something deep inside him, and your energies are in sync. That’s all.”

“That’s all, huh?” Sokka suppresses the urge to throw out finger guns and purposely obnoxiously proclaim “I’d like to be that something deep inside him, if you know what I mean.” Because for as much as he hates to admit it, Aang is starting to make sense to him.

In place of a terrible innuendo, Sokka replies, “Let me guess: the secret ingredient is trauma.”

“Now you’re getting it.”

Aang has told him a million times already about how the moment he first saw Katara, he knew she was the one, and Sokka isn’t in the mood to have that explained to him yet again. (It also gets harder every time not to remind him the feeling was not initially mutual. While Katara and Aang were fast friends, and she is absolutely and unquestionably in love with him now, it wasn’t love at first sight for her like it was for him.)

“I mean, it’s a little obvious, don’t you think?” Sokka shrugs and awkwardly frowns with one side of his mouth. “I startled the shit out of him the first time I saw him. And then I watched him break the fuck down while no one else reacted, like it’s a normal thing. That and…you know.”

At that, Sokka gestures vaguely around the left side of his face. “His whole big scar thing. Something tells me there’s a story there that isn’t fucking pretty.”

“He’s been through a lot,” Katara repeats what Suki had told him, with a nearly identical cadence. “But so have you. So maybe Aang’s right. That whole connection and recognition thing.”

“Okay, I think that’s enough for one day.” Sokka’s tone is mocking, but his smile is sincere. “And I’m sure you have shit to do before tonight, Katara. For now, I’ve got to get to the theatre and start working on plans for the accessibility overhauls, since that’s now part of my job, too. See you later. Love you guys.”

“Love you, too.”

***

“Oh, Ty Lee didn’t tell me she fucking choreographed this!” Zuko notes looking at the program.

“Of course she didn’t.” Mai doesn’t typically inflect much, but her voice is undoubtedly sad. “She’s never gonna give herself enough credit for anything but dancing. I’ve watched them practice, the movements are incredible. I have no idea how she comes up with this stuff. But you know how she is. She’s got this idea of what’s supposed to be and it’ll never match up to reality. So she smiles and laughs, but…”

“Yeah, I know.” Zuko gets it. He gets it better than anyone they know. Even more because he’s virtually the only person she’ll talk to or let see her on her bad days.

Everyone sits together in one of the front rows. The one that already had a couple of chairs pulled out of the floor (which now needs better sanded down in the worst way, but they knew Teo would be there tonight so Sokka put in a rush job for the time being), so Teo can sit at the end without sticking out at all.

Same as ever, Toph and Appa sit on Zuko’s right, and Iroh sits on Zuko’s left.

Sokka snatches up a seat next to Toph.

The performance truly is gorgeous. Katara is front and center as the principle dancer, but Ty Lee really should be soaking up the credit for how beautifully stylized all the dances actually are. Katara moves like water, fluid and graceful, in full control of every fiber in her body, at times appearing almost to be floating on air.

Ty Lee’s face is entirely different as she dances, similar to how Zuko changes when he acts. She and Song and Jin and Lily more than carry their weight in the show, each one of them in perfect time with the pace of Björk’s “Hyperballad” playing over them and they stand out beautifully. They are not just human background noise behind Katara, like Ty Lee seems to believe. They are every bit as vital to the flow as Katara is, and the way they balance each other and each dancer complements the others is a work of art unto itself, and Ty Lee should be proud of her creation.

The tone of the dance changes as “Hyperballad” fades into “Bachelorette” fades into “Jòga” (Ty Lee must have been in a very specific mood when putting together this soundtrack), each song a little slower and sadder than the last, until they’ve slowed to a complete stop, everyone’s limbs positioned so delicately but unmoving, and the entire audience stands and cheers.

It’s impressive how long they hold their final poses, and Zuko knows how hard that has to be on Ty Lee in particular. She’s going to be paying for this for at least the next few days. But he’s ready for her to need him.

Afterwards, Iroh takes them all out to dinner.

“I thought you all looked great!” Toph teases Katara and Ty Lee, and everyone laughs.

“You all move with remarkable grace and power,” Iroh follows. “You should be proud.”

Sokka is staring at Zuko again, from across the table. But hey, they did make plans. Sort of. And then did not discuss this again since. So Sokka is within his right to try to get something out of him. He needs to know where to go once they leave here. Besides, Zuko is also looking at him. And the corner of his lips curls just the slightest bit.

And outside the restaurant, Sokka pulls Zuko aside to ask if they’re still on.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Zuko struggles to make eye contact when he answers, but Sokka knows not to take that personally. It’s not always easy for him to do, either.

“Did you drive?” Sokka asks, and he doesn’t understand the look on Zuko’s face, the way it falls and his lips purse with a twinge of anger.

He decides not to ask about that yet, though, and allows Zuko’s expression to speak for itself as his answer. “Umm, well, I did. So we can, you know, take my car.”

“Okay.”

As they bid the rest of the group a good night in preparing to depart, Appa looks like he’s trying to pay closer attention to Zuko again. But Zuko just assures the dog he’s fine as though he can understand him, and then repeats himself to Toph.

And then they’re off.

***

“Is it okay if we skip out on drinks?” Zuko asks once they’re in the car. He had been preparing his mask for whatever crowded and loud bar they were going to end up at since Sokka invited him, but he doesn’t want to have to mask right now. Toph said Sokka likes him, and he likes Sokka. That’s not how he wants their first one on one interaction to go. He doesn’t want a friendship (or perhaps more) to be rooted in a foundation of pretending to be something he’s not. Sokka isn’t an audience, and Zuko doesn’t want to put on a show. Not right here, not right now.

But his heart still skips a beat when he makes this request, he still tenses and holds his breath until Sokka answers.

“Yeah, no problem. What do you wanna do instead?”

That was so easy. That’s good. It’s difficult asking for anything from someone new. He still never knows who he’s going to upset or how they’re going to react.

“I… I don’t know. Let’s go somewhere we can, like, actually hear each other when we talk.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Sounds good. I know a nice park. It’s probably closed, but that’s never stopped me before.”

“You go to the park after dark a lot?”

“Yeah. It’s, umm, peaceful. Good place to decompress.”

It’ll be weird being there with another person and without his art supplies, but he doesn’t bring that up.

Thankfully there’s street parking available all around, so they get a spot right in front of a long series of benches and a fountain, and right along the edges of the fountain is where they choose to sit.

“Oh hey, uh, sorry if the driving question offended you.” Sokka has been sitting on Zuko’s reaction and he needs to get it out of the way. “I just wanted to know what would be most convenient.”

“It’s…fine.” Zuko’s looking at his shoes. He knows this isn’t a big deal, but he’s never been able to stop it bothering him. “It’s just that I can’t drive. I mean, like, I’m not allowed. Because of the left eye thing.”

“Oh. Oh shit, Zuko, I didn’t think, I…”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s understandable.”

They sit together in uncomfortable silence, and it’s making both of them antsy.

“So, uh, Toph,” Sokka tries next. “Is she your sister like Katara’s my sister or like Iroh’s your dad?”

Zuko smiles at him there. “You know, it’s kind of oversimplifying to think of them as so different. Actually, it’s really oversimplifying. Toph is every bit as much my sister as Katara is to you. Same goes for my dad. But to answer your question as you asked it, she’s more like Iroh.”

“Are you related to her at all, like you are Iroh? I mean, biologically? Not that it matters, I guess, but…”

“No, it doesn’t,” Zuko eases. He doesn’t sound upset anymore. He sounds almost relaxed. “But no, she isn’t. You ever heard of the Beifongs?”

“Yeah, aren’t they like the richest sons of bitches in the world? Right up there with that dickbag Comet Industries CEO?”

Zuko twitches a little when Sokka mentions the CEO of Comet Industries, whose name Sokka can’t remember off hand but who is infamous for mistreatment of employees and stealing competitors’ plans, and often the subject of “eat the rich” and guillotine memes, but the quick physical reaction Zuko would rather ignore ever having happened makes it clear there’s something more personal to it.

“Yeah, that’s them,” Zuko moves on. “Believe it or not, Toph’s their biokid. But they treated her really bad. Kept her locked up, denied her basic human needs because she’s blind. So she ran away when she was twelve, and Dad found her sleeping in the alley behind the tea shop while taking out the garbage. He insisted she come in and sleep in our spare room, and then it became her room. Her parents tried to sue for her return, but when Dad didn’t back down they decided they didn’t want to deal with having their names publicly smeared, so they settled by surrendering their parental rights to Iroh in exchange for him having to agree never to talk to any media or anything about it. That was ten years ago, and Toph’s been my sister ever since.”

“That’s really nice.”

“Yeah. Dad started learning braille on, like, her second day with us so he could teach it to her. She never really got taken care of or learned how to take care of herself before. Aang got her Appa. Trained him and everything. Which is why he can get a little overenthusiastic about seeing Appa and tends to forget Appa has a job and he needs to stay out of his way, but…”

“So, how’d you get there?”

“I, umm… I ran away, too. I was thirteen at the time. And now Dad’s been my dad for thirteen years. Weird how time passes.”

“Why’d you run?”

“It’s a long story.”

That’s not entirely true. It would take some time to explain every detail of his fucked up childhood, maybe, but the running away part is fairly simple. Got beaten all to hell. Fireplace nearby. Fireplace got weaponized. Face got burned. Breaking point got reached. Couldn’t stay. Had to leave. Knew where to go.

He might tell him eventually. But even thinking about it right now increases the volume of that ever present ringing in his ears.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Sokka whispers. His voice is calm and soft, laden with sympathy and a hint of regret. “If it’s too hard or you’re not ready or, hell, if you just don’t feel like it.”

“Thank you, Sokka.”

Sokka takes his hand at that, and Zuko lets him.

“We’ve all got pasts. Some harder than others, but…I’m sure we all have shit we’d rather forget about. I know I’m gonna sound like Aang here but maybe he’s onto something, that broken people just sort of find each other. You know?”

“I do.”

Sokka’s hands are rough. It’s obvious he works with them.

Zuko’s hands are soft and warm. Sokka can feel his body heat like it’s crawling into him.

“So, acting.” Sokka doesn’t like too much silence. It makes him feel like something bad is coming. “How’d you get into it? What are some of your favorite plays you’ve done?”

Zuko pulls away to light a cigarette, and Sokka doesn’t even care that he full on pouts at the loss of contact. And Zuko laughs. Another real laugh. Sokka wants to make him do that all the time.

Zuko talks about Bent and The Glass Menagerie and The Laramie Project, and the time Pakku did some revisions just for their theatre on ‘Night, Mother to turn Jessie into Jesse for Zuko to play the part. Sokka continues to be amazed and amused by how much Zuko seems to revel in performing the saddest fucking stories Sokka’s ever heard of, but he recalls what Zuko said at the Long Day’s Journey into Night audition about catharsis, and he mentally pins that against Zuko’s inability to talk about his childhood.

“Do you dance or anything, too?” Zuko asks after he’s talked Sokka’s ear off about his creative endeavors.

“What, just because Katara does?”

“Well, you move kind of similarly. Didn’t know if maybe you learned anything together.”

“Fair enough. No, I don’t dance. But I learned tai chi with her, so maybe that’s it.”

He wants to tease about Zuko’s confession of how close attention he’s paid to how Sokka moves. But he bites his tongue.

More than that, though, Sokka almost mentions his art. He stops himself before the words come out and clears his throat to try to cover for his pushing it down right as he started to speak, but he almost said it.

“That’s cool,” Zuko says shyly. He realizes he’s just told Sokka how closely he’s been looking at him. But it’s hard to be embarrassed by it when not only does Sokka not seem to mind, but he’s cute when he blushes. “Dad took Toph and me to a kung fu studio when we were kids. For self defense. She took to Hung Ga and I took to Northern Shaolin style. We got special tutors because of our vision and all. I think that’s when Toph decided to get into disability advocacy. She was really annoyed how their in-house teachers didn’t just, like, automatically know how to adjust for us. It never bothered me, but Toph doesn’t have any problem calling bullshit and speaking her mind.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

“Don’t let her get to you. If she gets a little rough, that’s just how she shows affection.”

“I hope I’m not out of line here, but…I’m glad you have them. I don’t know what you had to go through to get there, but it sounds like it’s a really good thing you did. So, I’m glad.”

“Thanks. I don’t think I’d be here without them. If I hadn’t come here… Yeah.”

He would definitely be dead if he hadn’t left. The only thing he’s not sure of is who would have killed him. The odds between himself and Ozai feel pretty much even. But he’s not going to get into that today, either.

“And umm…I don’t really know if I should say this, either, but…Zuko, I’m glad we met.”

“Me too, Sokka.”

Chapter Text

“‘I’m not upset. There’s nothing to be upset about. What makes you think I’m upset?’”

“‘Why, nothing, except you’ve seemed a bit high strung the past few days.’”

“‘I have? Nonsense, dear.’”

Sela as Mary and Pakku as James, Sr. (a part literally no one auditioned for) bicker on the stage while Sokka runs around taking measurements and talking to himself while looking through finger frames. Piandao informed him there were already floor plans he could use instead of having to figure out all the dimensions himself, but he insisted he had to do it. Jeong at first seemed fascinated watching him work, with his utmost precision and intricate note taking, but eventually he returned to his position as co-director.

Zuko is lying on stage and staring at the ceiling. No one is fully acting yet, only going over lines and optionally starting to figure out their vocal performances. Most everyone is sitting with scripts in their laps, pencils and different colors of highlighters scattered all around.

Ty Lee is also blowing up his phone, suffering as much as they’d feared she would be after her dance troupe’s show.

Ty Lee: Pls bring me ice cream. I can’t leave my apartment rn.

Ty Lee: Zuko, you’re the only one who understands. I neeeeeeeeeed you.

Ty Lee: Zuko pls. I am begging you. I’ll pay for your Uber. I’ll do anything you want. I can’t ducking get up.

Ty Lee: FUCKING I MEANT FUCKING UGH

Ty Lee: Ben and Jerry half baked. And a big ass bottle of wine. I’ll pay you back. I’ll buy you dinner. I’ll share the wine. I will give you 1 whole glass lmao.

He replies to tell her he’s at rehearsal and he’ll let her know when he gets out. She knows he has her back, though, so he knows not to be miffed when she responds with a series of frown emojis.

He texts her again to suggest inviting Sokka over, under the pretense of asking Sokka for a ride since they’re already together (even though they’ve exchanged nothing but rushed hellos), therefore saving money on that Uber.

Ty Lee: You just wanna bring him cuz he’s cute. ;)

Ty Lee: But yeah sure. Need more wine tho.

Sokka runs across the stage just then, trailing a measuring tape he definitely forgot to reel back in behind him.

It’s strange seeing him like this. The first time Zuko met him, he was wearing a Deftones shirt, absurdly tight blue jeans, and brown mid-calf boots. The second time he was wearing a medium blue long sleeved t-shirt with equally tight black pants and Chuck Taylors the same exact shade as his top. Today, however, he is wearing baggy khaki cargo pants, a white t-shirt, a baby blue hoodie with heinously frayed sleeves, and tan work boots, and every single part of his attire is covered in paint and dust.

He’s not judging, sprawled out on the floor in black skinny jeans and a Johnny the Homicidal Maniac t-shirt, both of which are littered with holes, but still. It’s sure as hell different.

But in all cases, even now in his dirty work clothes, Sokka has been wearing the same whalebone choker. Zuko wants to know if it holds any significance, if he ever takes it off.

“‘Good heavens, are they going to stay in the dining room all day?’” Sela as Mary asks. “‘Jamie! Edmund! Come in the living room and give Cathleen a chance to clear the table.’”

Without looking up or so much as glancing at his script, Zuko as Edmund calls back, “‘We’re coming, Mama.’”

And he can hear Sokka chuckle, so he lifts his head to look around and spots Sokka watching from a few feet behind.

After the next couple of lines, everyone agrees to take a break. This is only the first rehearsal with a good several months to go, and some people are just learning to get comfortable. Zuko and Pakku are the only veterans in the cast, everyone else is new to the stage and has to grow into it.

So Zuko rolls onto his side to sit up and waves to Sokka, who comes over and sits beside him.

“So, like, do you even need scripts, or were you just born knowing all the lines to every part you’re ever going to play?” Sokka laughs, and Zuko laughs, too.

“I can’t remember my own name half the time, but this? I don’t know how, I can just do this.” Zuko doesn’t get it, that’s true, but he isn’t going to complain about it. “Don’t ask me to recite a single word from this after this show is over, though. It’ll be gone literally the second the final curtain drops. But for right now…it’s just a thing.”

“It’s a pretty fucking cool thing.” Sokka’s smile is wide and pure.

“Oh hey, uh, I know this is probably a little weird but…can I ask something of a favor?” Zuko’s fingers twitch. Asking for help is one of the most difficult tasks in the world. If this didn’t involve helping someone else, he wouldn’t ask at all.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Ty Lee’s having a bad flare up after the dance. She wants me to keep her company, and bring her ice cream and wine. I can get an Uber if you can’t come, or if you don’t want to or… I, umm, anyway, I asked her if you could join us, if you’re up for it of course, and she said yeah, so…”

“Yeah, sure,” Sokka agrees without a second thought. “That’s sweet of you to help her out like that. Let’s make a night of it.”

Zuko isn’t ready to tell him yet that Ty Lee helps him out when the roles are reversed, too, or how deep the solidarity runs between them. But he’s excited Sokka will be joining them, even if it means he might be a little quieter than normal whenever he and Ty Lee run into their inevitable friendly chronic pain complaint competition.

Sela takes Pakku aside and they whisper together in a back corner. A few minutes after Pakku announces that anyone who wants to leave can (while making direct eye contact with Zuko), and that anyone who believes they need more one on one help should come and talk to him.

Zuko doesn’t blame Sela for freaking out a little. She took on a substantial role for anyone, much less a first time actor. Zuko has total faith in her since she killed it at her audition, and he tells her as much as he passes her to leave. She smiles gratefully, and then Zuko and Sokka are off to the nearest grocery store.

***

Sokka does not question that Zuko has a key to Ty Lee’s building, as it’s already become clear Zuko helping her through a pain flare is a common enough occurrence.

“Well, isn’t that fancy,” Sokka does laugh at whenever they get into an elevator. “I wish my building was this bourgie.”

“Stairs are a menace,” Zuko replies in a quiet monotone. Neither Sokka nor Zuko himself can tell if that was intended to have any sort of humorous undertone to it or not.

Regardless, it’s true, and he and Ty Lee bitch about them all the time.

And in reality, Zuko can’t imagine Ty Lee having a problem with Sokka knowing the only reason she lives here, in the shittiest corner of the Lower Ring, is because by some miracle she did find a complex here with an elevator in it and its location made it the only place with an elevator she could afford. Her adamant refusal to give up dancing leading to days at a time she can barely walk meant an elevator was non-negotiable unless she could find a first floor unit with an accessible entrance, which she could not, and she was thrilled she was able to find what she did. It would probably be fine to say as much, Zuko is sure, but he also believes whether or not Sokka gets to know that isn’t for him to decide.

Zuko gives a courtesy knock when they reach her unit, and the key is already in the doorknob which is already half way turned when she shouts, “Come in!”

Ty Lee is lying on the couch, and there’s a giant uncapped bottle of ibuprofen and an even larger water bottle on the coffee table in front of her. She is wearing a hot pink cotton sleep camisole and shorts set with a light pink satin robe and light pink fuzzy slippers. All of her upholstery also comes in varying shades of pink, and there are pillows everywhere.

“Zuko, my hero!” Ty Lee calls, directing her arms at Zuko and doing grabby hands. “And hi, Sokka!”

Sokka smiles and lifts up the bags he’s holding. “We come bearing ice cream, wine, and beer!”

Sokka is entirely caught off guard when Zuko and Ty Lee, in unison, echo, “Wine and beer!”

And then Sokka really has no idea what they’re doing when they start loudly singing together.

“‘To handcrafted beers made in local breweries! To yoga, to yogurt, to rice and beans and cheese! To leather, to dildos, to curry vindaloo! To huevos rancheros and Maya Angelou! Emotion, devotion, to causing a commotion! Creation, vacation, mucho masturbation!’”

Both of them are laughing and Zuko is crashing on the chair next to the couch, and Sokka just stands there watching them.

“So, uhh, where do you want me to put the ice cream?” he asks after a moment, during which time no one has explained to him what the hell just happened and so he decides to move on.

“Oh!” Zuko stands back up, and Sokka can’t help but notice he’s blushing a little. “Sorry, umm. I’ll show you.”

“Thank you! I love you!” Ty Lee yells as Zuko guides Sokka to the kitchen.

Zuko opens the freezer door and then mumbles, “Rent.”

“Huh?”

“What we were doing. ‘La Vie Bohème’ from Rent. The musical.”

“Ah. Nerds.” Sokka grins, and Zuko awkwardly averts his eyes. “Hey, come on. It’s cute.”

“Umm. Thanks?”

Zuko goes into Ty Lee’s cabinets and pulls out three wine glasses, and then Sokka follows him back into the living room.

Zuko sits in the same chair he’d claimed when they first came in after setting the glasses on the coffee table, and then he casually twists himself so his legs are swung over the left armrest. In this position he can see Ty Lee, and he leans his head against the backrest from there to make himself comfortable while ensuring his right ear is fully unobstructed by this wonderful, overstuffed monstrosity.

Sokka sits on the floor on the other side of the table, straight across from Ty Lee. Zuko’s grateful this keeps Sokka easily within his range of hearing and vision with minimal head turning. He wonders if Sokka did that on purpose.

Neither of them have yet really figured out what this thing between them is. They held hands at the fountain and that felt so right but it didn’t move beyond that. Mai is going to give Zuko hell over this, he already knows that much. Sokka is going to get a similar talking to from Suki.

And it definitely does not help that both Zuko and Sokka are here with Ty Lee now.

Sokka makes Zuko a unique kind of nervous, though. And Sokka is letting Aang get into his head. An eternal skeptic, Sokka can’t figure out how to reconcile how much everything Aang said about him and Zuko suddenly makes sense.

It’s not at all subtle they like each other, and both have had it confirmed by others. But there’s…a block.

Maybe it’s because Zuko is convinced he’s going to scare Sokka off the moment he gets too close and sees too much.

Maybe it’s because Sokka hasn’t done anything with strings attached since his last partner died and he still blames himself and doesn’t want to do to Zuko whatever he did to her (and he must have done something, he doesn’t see any way around it).

They’re two broken people. And now they’ve found each other, and they want more out of that.

And yet.

“What are you working on?” Sokka asks, noticing a notebook filled with messy sketches surrounded by arrows and streams of words in impossibly tiny letters.

“Rough plans for the next show I’m choreographing. It’s going to be based on Rasputina’s Oh Perilous World, mostly as a good excuse for some extra ass steampunk costuming and set design. So you’re warned, Sokka.”

“You’re really into strings lately, huh?” Zuko points out.

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for a good cello solo.”

“I’ve always been more of a woodwinds kind of guy, myself,” Sokka teases. “Which is an absolute fucking lie, but that was the first other kind of instrument that popped into my head.”

“Sokka, can you pour me a glass of wine?” Ty Lee sounds like Zuko asking for help. Sokka gets that, though. He fits in here, even if his reasons are entirely different.

“Here you go. Zuko?”

“Yes, please.”

They pass the wine around, and they get to drinking.

“Song told me her mom wants one of those hideous new Comet SUVs,” Ty Lee is laughing after a few glasses have gone around. “I told her she’d better fucking not but…Zuko, it’s legal to key those, right?”

“It fucking should be.”

“Because that guy who owns it’s a douchebag?” Sokka asks, and Ty Lee freezes.

She clears her throat a little and then squeaks out, “Uhh, yeah! He sure is!”

“Umm, okay. Well, yeah. I’ve read about him. Sure as fuck not a company I’d want to support. Although if the money’s already spent, I guess there’s not much use keying one. You’ve got to go to the dealership for that.”

Zuko fucking giggles, and that is goddamn music to Sokka’s ears. “That is better. I like the way you think.”

“Eh, I still say you forfeit your right to an unkeyed car by buying one. Maybe the money has already gone to that fuckface’s pockets, but there must be retribution!”

Ty Lee and Zuko are clearly both lightweights, and it’s oddly precious.

“Fair enough,” is all Sokka has to say. He still knows he’s missing something here, especially as this is now the second time in as many interactions in which Zuko has had what looks like a disproportionately strong response to the mention of some rich prick who’s a constant headline but to Sokka is only a name in a headline, but Sokka doesn’t think either Zuko or Ty Lee are in a proper state for him to ask.

Ty Lee’s phone vibrates, and she grabs it with cat-like reflexes, even as buzzed and as sore as she is.

“Hey, baby!” she answers. “Yeah, Zuko’s here. And he brought Sokka! Uh-huh. Yeah. Yes, they brought wine, too. Mmhm. Yeah, sure! Okay. Love you. See you soon.”

“Which girlfriend was that?” Zuko asks.

“Mai. She just got off work, so she’s gonna come take care of me. Suki actually has a date with another one of the dancers tonight.”

“Ah, I hope it goes well,” Sokka replies.

It’s kind of funny to him now that Suki is the one person he did genuinely try to get involved with after Yue, but she’s gay and he’s monogamous so it never would have worked. They don’t even consider each other exes. That was simply a weird experiment between best friends inspired by loneliness and youth and a hint of pressure from some of their heteronormative dumbass peers, and it simply confirmed to themselves and everyone what they both already knew. On the plus side, after that everyone they knew who didn’t believe they were “just” friends got to shut the fuck up as they very openly told the tale of the time they attempted to fuck and failed.

But Sokka also realizes Suki may have been the one he tried with because it was always doomed for reasons beyond their control, but he could tell people he’d started moving on without actually having to do it, and without any risk of getting hurt in the process.

“We’ll get going, then,” Zuko offers. He loves Mai, but he’s a bit tipsy and not at all in the mood for having her around Sokka, when Mai is the only person Zuko knows whose lack of filter can compete with Toph’s.

And Ty Lee does not try to get them to stay, which is a huge relief.

Zuko stumbles a little getting to his feet, and Sokka stays on his right as they walk back to the elevator.

He considers switching sides with him, somehow already feeling comfortable enough with him to be willing to try trusting him to guard his left, but he wants to hear Sokka if he talks to him and he’s impaired enough from drinking.

Zuko automatically pulls out his phone after exiting Ty Lee’s building, and Sokka recognizes the Uber app and side eyes him.

“Really?”

“Oh, umm, I didn’t want to assume…”

“Well, Zuko, from now on, assume away. I’m never gonna just strand you like that. Get in.”

Both of them like the sound of “from now on.”

“Sorry,” he feels compelled to tell Sokka once they get back into his car. “I don’t drink much anymore. I used to be kind of a heavyweight, but Dad worries about medication interactions and Toph gangs up on me with him.”

“Medication interactions?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Psych meds. All pretty safe in moderation, but he can be kind of overprotective. I guess I can’t blame him, considering…”

“Considering?”

Considering he took me in with half my face freshly burned off. Considering how many times he’s caught me hurting myself. Considering he knows all about everything I’ve been through and how much it hurts him to think about me suffering like that. Considering he’s a good dad and he just wants me to be okay and he knows I’m not.

“Considering…uh, his ‘brother’ isn’t a very nice person. He just doesn’t like to think about me being hurt. And he knows I have been.”

“His ‘brother.’ So your…well, I guess not your, you know, but your…”

“My former father, yeah. Easy way to put it. Not that I think he ever deserved that title, but I would have called him that once upon a time, so.”

“Understood.” Sokka knows he doesn’t and he wants to understand better, wants to know Zuko better, but again he won’t push.

“Would you like to come in?” Zuko asks as they pull up in front of the Jasmine Dragon. “I can give you a free tea. Or whatever you want, really. Everyone says we have the best boba anywhere in the world.”

“‘Everyone says,’ huh? What do you say?”

“I say I wouldn’t know. I can’t handle the texture.”

“Huh. Well, yeah. Yeah, I’ll come in.”

“I owe you that much, anyway.”

“Zuko. Zuko, look at me. You don’t owe me anything, okay?”

Zuko doesn’t respond. He doesn’t want to be rude, but it’ll be worse if he speaks, as he knows nothing that comes out of mouth short of flat out saying “sounds fake but okay” will come across as sincere.

They’re holding hands again walking through the door. Who reached for whose first, neither could say. It just happened, and neither pulls away.

And Sokka, as it turns out, loves the texture of boba. He calls it satisfying. Zuko just laughs, Iroh teasing him about ordering his own bubble tea sans bubbles. Iroh drops extra into Sokka’s.

Iroh is also trying to encourage this thing. But of course he would be. Sokka makes Zuko smile, and Iroh wants Zuko to be happy.

Zuko still feels a bit giddy sitting beside Sokka like this, like they’re here together together. The wine is wearing off, but he still wears a slight smile which is in no way forced or strained.

He feels lighter with Sokka around. Sokka and his own infectious smile and his sarcastic tone and his dumb jokes and his beautiful eyes.

Sokka and his strong hands and his big heart and his wanting to help.

Zuko doesn’t want to get too far ahead of himself. But somehow being with Sokka feels so natural, so right. He can’t explain it.

But later on he sees his face in the mirror and feels the weight of the world come crashing down on him.

Often in his head, he pictures himself without his scar. He’s talked endlessly with Dr. Shyu about his self image and denial and whatever the fuck is going on in his mind when it alters his appearance so. It’s not like he ever forgets he has it. But he constantly imagines his own face as though it had never been burned.

He doesn’t even really know what he’d look like. He was only thirteen. His face is much longer and sharper, more defined. Stronger cheekbones, stronger jawline. He hasn’t changed too, too much, but his face definitely matured.

He can imagine enough, though. He’s never known a scarless version of this exact face, but he knows what he looks like now. And he hears people whisper about it. He catches the names they call him.

He gets that Sokka can do better, and that he comes with so much more baggage than anyone should have to handle.

Zuko lights roughly a dozen candles and four sticks of incense, and then lies down on his bed face up, blasting “Eraser” by Nine Inch Nails on repeat. He’d been laughing a half hour ago, and now he’s brooding alone in his room.

“Show some respect,” Ozai yells, but Zuko stands his ground.

“You can’t just go beating up little kids every time you don’t get your way!”

He is trying to be brave, be brave for Mom. He hasn’t been the same since she left. He has never stood up for himself before.

“I can do whatever I want, child. In this house—in my house—I have the power.”

Zuko is pushed against the wall, his back hitting only inches away from the fireplace. That was close. Too close.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko immediately starts pleading. He’s scared now, he’s really scared. He regrets everything. He’s crying. He’s crying so hard. “I’m so sorry.”

“You are your mother’s son. Weak little bitch, just like her.”

“No, no, I’ll be good. I promise. I am your loyal son. I meant no disrespect.”

“You will learn respect, alright.”

The memories of what follows aren’t very well preserved. Each step is blurry and there’s a lot of blank space.

“You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher.”

Zuko is turned around, smashed into the wall face first. He recalls a piercing pain rushing into his skull. Next thing he knows, his shoulder length hair is bunched into Ozai’s fist and there’s a cracking sound and the brick arch surrounding the flames is close but distant and it’s staring at him and he can taste blood, he sees spots and everything swims and spins and he feels sick, and his throat burns and his mouth tastes awful like he’s been sick, overwhelmed by the scent of wood and vomit and burning flesh, he is being held directly over the fire. He screams. He screams so loud. He screams like he’s never screamed before. His surroundings fade in and out, sobbing and slipping.

He has no idea how long he’s held there. He doesn’t know how he got upstairs. In his room, blood on the carpet, he finds his messenger bag. School supplies scatter across the floor. He reaches for his bed, for that turtleduck.

In a flash he is outside, crawling on his hands and knees. He hears Ozai’s voice but it sounds like an echo, not quite real. Something about “better run” and “whore mother” and “fucking cunt.”

His vision flashes white to black, crawling, grass and concrete. His elbows drag across. He knows where he wants to go. He has no idea how he’s going to get there. But he can’t stay here.

He doesn’t know how he got to the hospital. He’s all alone. He begs for Iroh. He begs them not to call Ozai. He needs Iroh. He was going to Iroh’s.

In and out, in and out. Machines beeping. Iroh weeping. The pinch of needles breaking veins for the longer lasting discomfort of catheters, electrodes taking records, the all consuming hum of CTs and MRIs.

Hazy whispers of “uncertain” and “injuries are severe” and “long term damage” and “consciousness” and “not out of the woods yet.” Repeated numbers and mention of days and “Glasgow scale.”

The first words he speaks again are “I’m sorry.” Iroh’s eyes are dark, sunken, sagging. He holds Zuko’s hand as tears spill from them.

Zuko puts out the cigarette he has no memory of smoking right below the mark from the last time he used his own skin as an ashtray. Hopefully the incense masks the scent.

There is knocking at his door, and Appa barking.

He tosses the cigarette butt in the nearby garbage can and takes a deep breath.

“Come in,” he shouts.

“It’s locked, asshole,” Toph replies.

Every muscle in his back fights him as he gets up to let Toph in.

“Fuck you, Zuko,” she yells at him. “Dad called you to dinner hours ago and you didn’t answer. We were starting to think you fucking died in there.”

“Well, I didn’t. I’m fine, Toph.”

“No, you’re not. You were having a flashback, weren’t you? You know you’re supposed to get one of us if—”

“It isn’t that fucking simple!” he snaps, and he crashes back onto his bed and hangs his head, flooded with shame over raising his voice at his sister who was only worried and trying to help.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her after a tense moment. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t…it just happened, no warning. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“It’s okay. Come on, Dad saved you a plate.”

Zuko lets Toph guide him to the dining room, and all he can think is how he’s already dragged enough people into this mess with his incredible family, and beyond that he’s better off alone.

Chapter Text

Zuko has been in a mood.

Dr. Shyu has reminded him yet again he’s maxed out on all his meds, there aren’t any combinations left he hasn’t tried, and he needs to be careful with his Ativan.

At least he has the play, but as soon as he leaves the theatre, he goes right back to being himself and that’s feeling even more burdensome than usual.

He gets home from rehearsal and sits down at the front counter at the tea shop.

“Pumpkin chai, please,” he tells Haru.

“Being a fancy bitch today?” Haru laughs and Zuko tries to smile but he can’t make it.

“Yeah. That’s me. Fancy bitch.”

Haru is nice. A bit unassuming, but a while back he and Katara went from distant acquaintances to tightly bonded friends basically overnight and no one else seems to know why. There’s a little more to his story than anyone but Katara knows, that’s the easy assumption, but for the most part he seems to be generally well adjusted and healthy and Zuko has no fucking idea what he’s supposed to do with that.

Haru is, however, also unerringly passionate, and he spends much of his free time and energy on activism. He works a lot with Toph, and that’s how he got close enough to Iroh to be given a job offer.

Zuko rests his elbows on the counter, places his head in his hands while Haru makes his drink.

“Oh hey, I’m volunteering at the shelter tonight and I saw your name was on the schedule, too,” Haru mentions. “Need a ride?”

“Yes, please.” Zuko doesn’t look up, but his tone is genuinely appreciative. “Thank you.”

Well, I know you could use it and that you’re never going to ask for it on your own, Haru thinks but does not speak. But he is glad Zuko accepted his offer. He won’t even always do that.

Years of therapy has cooled Zuko’s temper, but the self-loathing that impacts literally every single aspect of his existence hasn’t ebbed at all.

He takes it as a win, though. He’s no longer regularly hurting others. He doesn’t care if he hurts himself.

Haru slides a second, smaller cup beside Zuko’s chai, and is met with inquisitive eyes.

“Double shot of espresso,” Haru explains. “I heard Governor Kuei made a huge donation of blankets and winter wear, so it’s probably going to be a long night.”

“Thanks, Haru.”

***

Zuko and Haru are met with the aggressive excitement of their fellow volunteers, and for good reason.

There are boxes upon boxes to sort through, filled with goods they’ll be able to hand out to the community and will improve the quality of life for those who have to sleep here.

And at the front desk chatting with How, the head of security, are Teo and his father, and Sokka still in his work clothes.

Sokka, who Zuko had staunchly avoided any eye contact with at the theatre all day.

Haru, of course, does not know this, and he runs over to them to say hello while Zuko decides to check on the recreation room.

Zuko knows this is the kind of place he would have ended up were it not for Iroh. He has no idea what would have happened to him after, since Ozai made it no secret he did not want Zuko back, but this would have assuredly been where he was sent when he was released from the hospital.

Although, maybe his life would be much different if he had come here earlier. Maybe if his mother had taken him with her the night she left, if she’d known about this place maybe they could have kept her safe.

Oh well. He’ll never know. But it’s a nice dream.

In the rec room, there are a few children playing with a decent selection of games and toys, and a few mothers watching. It’s usually families, and they are usually fleeing an abusive father.

“Zuko!” a young girl whose family has been living here for a month calls out, and she runs into his arms.

“Hey, On Ji. How’s it going?”

Zuko is a different person here, too. The transformation is not as drastic as it is on stage, the role of Volunteer Zuko is not as consuming as whatever role Actor Zuko is portraying in a play, but it is certainly a bigger shift than the one to Tea Server Zuko or Friend Zuko is, and it is very thoroughly not, as none of them are, Actual Zuko.

He likes to think Volunteer Zuko and Friend Zuko are the closest matches of all the parts he plays, though. And he prefers to keep Actual Zuko as far back in the shadows as he possibly can.

All Zukos who see the light of day are some flavor of Actor Zuko. That’s what it is because that’s how it’s always had to be.

“I’m scared. Mom’s been crying a lot and I don’t know how to help.”

Zuko remembers his mother tucking him into her arms, on her lap, while she tried to stop crying after he’d gone to check on her. This was a common bonding experience. They never talked about it. They knew what was wrong. There was no need to say it. So they just stayed close to one another. They were all the other had.

And for a moment Zuko sees himself in On Ji’s eyes. But he just knows he has some line or another from Iroh for this.

“You must never give in to despair. You must be your own greatest sense of hope. That is where you find your inner strength.” Zuko’s words are clunky, not at all rehearsed, and he’s fairly certain he’s mixing phrases or misquoting. But On Ji smiles and runs over to her mom to repeat what Zuko just told her, and then the mother is looking up at him and smiling, too.

People here tell him all the time he’s great with the kids. Considering how he was treated when he was one, and how terrified that makes him of becoming such a monster, he’s not sure he’s ever received a greater compliment.

He walks out to the main common area to help sort through donations.

Sokka is still locked in an animated discussion at the front desk, and his being here with Teo has Zuko wondering if Sokka’s been roped into crafting another accessibility upgrade.

It’s sweet how Sokka doesn’t seem to mind, though. If anything, it appears he’s sincerely happy to help. In fact, Zuko doubts there is anything insincere about Sokka.

Zuko turns to the boxes on the table in front of him, and then the piles organized by size on the table behind him, determined to not think about that right now.

At least being here gives Zuko a sense of purpose. At least doing this work lets him put some good into this world.

“You know, for such a big city, people here really seem to care about each other.” Sokka is standing in front of Zuko after an unknown span of time, only that box of coats and that table between them. “I thought you only saw community like this in small, you know, communities.”

“You can thank Toph, Teo, and Haru for a lot of that,” Zuko says without looking up. “Once those three get started on something, there’s no stopping them.”

“You say that like you’re not here, too,” Sokka counters Zuko’s obvious inability to give himself any credit.

Zuko stops what he’s doing and they make eye contact.

Sokka finds the look in Zuko’s eyes to be physically painful. At the intense sadness in his features, Sokka wonders what he did wrong.

“I’m just saying,” Sokka continues. “It looks like you have a pretty big hand in things here, too. Katara told me you’re here a lot.”

“It’s nothing,” Zuko says. “I, umm, I know a thing or two about what it means to need support. I’m not giving anything I haven’t been given.”

“You say that like it’s a small thing, Zuko. A lot of people wouldn’t. A lot of people don’t.”

Zuko just stares. He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say. He doesn’t have a script for this.

He hasn’t spoken to anyone he didn’t have to since Sokka went home after he dropped him off from Ty Lee’s. Iroh and Toph both know just to be patient and give him space, that he’ll come out of it on his own whenever he’s ready and trying to force him through it will only make this into an actual problem it doesn’t need to be. Other than that, he’s dealt with his castmates and customers and getting that tea from Haru, and now the shelter, and that’s it. At any other point he’s been alone in his room, and not a word has come out of him.

“Everyone I’ve met here so far speaks super highly of you, you know,” Sokka goes on. “I’ve been hearing all about what an angel you are to these people. You’re making a difference, Zuko. That matters. I’m from a small town in the middle of nowhere, okay? Tiny as hell, very close knit. And I’ve never seen anything like this. And you’re important to it. I bet you’re the only person here who doesn’t think so.”

People here protect each other. Their friends protect each other and then they stretch out and put together more resources to help and protect everyone else. No one helped Yue like this. It’s not unreasonable to believe something like what Sokka’s looking at now could have saved her.

“Hey, uh, Zuko?”

“Yeah?”

“Not to make it weird, but…did I do something wrong?”

Suddenly the lights are a whole lot brighter than they were a second ago. Suddenly all the people around Zuko are a lot more crowding.

Neither of those sensations are grounded in reality, but it’s hard to pull out of.

“Sokka…”

Usually Zuko can separate being surrounded by people here from being surrounded in the rest of his daily life. Usually it isn’t the same, because here he has a task and a reason for being, and he can put it all ahead of himself and if he needs to melt down later he can, but his ability to push it back until he gets home has been fucking infallible for as long as he’s been volunteering.

Until today, anyway.

He reaches for another coat to organize but his box is empty. Fuck, how long has it been?

It’s a bit of a mindfuck realizing he has no concept at all of how much time has passed.

And it’s incredible how full this room feels when many people have in fact gone home by now. It’s fairly empty at this point. But it does feel full, too full, closing in, suffocating.

“Zuko. Hey, man, you okay?”

Zuko shakes his head. He supposes now’s the time. This is where he freaks out Sokka enough for him to get the hint he shouldn’t be messing around with someone so damaged.

He hasn’t at all recovered from the intensity of that latest flashback, and his nightmares are in full force even with the medication. So maybe coming here wasn’t the best idea for him right now. He had to, though. He had to.

And now Sokka will see. And now Sokka will run.

Yue had a tendency to run off whenever she was facing a breaking point. Zuko, apparently, is more likely to simply shut down in his spot. He also definitely breaks down a lot more than Yue did, considering Sokka’s ratio of time spent with Zuko to times seeing Zuko lose his shit.

“Hey. Hey, Zuko. Let’s get you out of here, okay? Haru drove you in, right? Okay, I’m gonna find Haru and then I’m gonna take you home, alright? You’re gonna be alright, I promise.”

I couldn’t keep that promise before, but I swear I’m going to keep it now.

“Stay right here, okay? I’ve got you. Just give me a second.”

Zuko nods as Sokka talks to him. He is mortified, but it’s better this way. Sokka doesn’t have to deal with this. Surely Sokka doesn’t want to deal with this. So it’s okay this is happening now. Better to get it out of the way early.

Thankfully Haru is nearby, and Sokka is easily able to flag him down.

“Umm, I don’t know what the hell just happened but Zuko’s having kind of a breakdown? I think he needs to get out of here. I’m going to take him home. Just didn’t want him to, like, disappear on you without you knowing what happened.”

“Thank you, Sokka. Do me a favor and text me when he’s home safe?”

Sokka hands Haru his phone so he can input his number. “I take it this happens a lot.”

“Yeah. Never here, but…”

Haru returns the phone and Sokka’s face falls, and his thought process is transparent.

“Oh no, no, Sokka, you didn’t do anything. Like you said, this happens a lot. He’ll be fine. I’m glad you’re looking out for him like this.”

“Uh, yeah. You’re welcome. Thanks. I’ll text you.”

Zuko is shaking like a leaf, white knuckles anchoring him to the table with the box, and his eyes (or eye, singular) are (is) blown wide open and darting all around the room.

“Zuko.” Sokka approaches his right and says his name as softly as he can while still being audible. “Zuko, can you hear me?”

Zuko nods.

“Okay. We’re gonna head out. Is there anything you need to do before we leave?”

Zuko shakes his head.

Sokka starts walking towards the lobby, and Zuko does follow. Sokka has to move very slowly to keep himself in Zuko’s eye line, but that’s fine.

At some point Zuko takes Sokka’s hand. Again.

We can’t keep doing this if we’re not going to talk about it. And this is not the time. Sokka doesn’t let go, though.

When they reach his car, Sokka opens the passenger’s side door for Zuko and carefully helps him in. Zuko still hasn’t spoken, and Sokka is trying not to panic. But that won’t help anyone and he knows it.

His bigger concern is how hard Zuko’s shaking and how labored his breathing is.

It’s late. The Jasmine Dragon is closed. It’s odd to be here and see it so empty.

They go through the front because Sokka takes one look at the stairs on the side of the building and determines he does not trust those right now. Zuko nods when he asks if there’s a way in through the shop, so that’s where they go.

Sokka uses his phone’s flashlight to light their way, his other hand back in Zuko’s.

Zuko fumbles with his keys, having to break away from Sokka for just a moment to stop himself dropping them, and then resumes the position once the door is open.

Iroh and Toph are in the living room of their small apartment watching a movie with descriptive audio, and both of them stand up when they see Sokka came in clinging to Zuko.

Iroh shows Sokka to Zuko’s room and stays close while he curls up into bed. There’s a cute little stuffed duck wearing a turtle shell, and Zuko presses it against his face.

Sokka leaves the bedroom and is met again by Iroh in the hallway.

“Thank you for staying with him,” Iroh tells Sokka, and he rests a hand on Sokka’s shoulder. “I know you do not know him well, but know it will mean a lot to him that you stood by him.”

“Haru said he does this a lot.”

“Yes, he does. It is not my place to talk about it, and he may tell you in due time, but he has been through hell and has much to process, both from within and without. He does not often believe himself worthy of love and support. But you supported him now, and you have my gratitude.”

“Can I, umm, stay?”

“Of course, Sokka. And if you can, make sure he takes his medications.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Iroh brings Sokka in for a long and tight hug, and then Sokka goes back to Zuko.

He sees the bottles on the nightstand and reads the directions. He follows what the labels tell him is the correct number of pills and then convinces Zuko to look at him and asks him if this looks right. Zuko nods, and he takes them without a fight. Sokka thought that was going to be much harder.

Sokka sits down in front of the nightstand and texts Haru. He doesn’t want to leave Zuko’s side but he doesn’t want to be intrusive or risk setting him off even further.

So he lays down where he is. Sokka was born with the gift of being able to fall asleep damn near anywhere, so this won’t be a problem.

And when Zuko wakes mid-afternoon with only enough memory of the previous night to be horrified about the scene he must have caused, he rolls over and he can’t fucking believe what he’s seeing.

Sokka stayed.

Chapter Text

Sokka stayed.

Sokka stayed.

There he is, lying on the floor of Zuko’s room, playing with his phone.

Because he stayed.

Sokka, what the fuck have you done?

“That does not look comfortable,” Zuko says. His voice is rough and using it doesn’t feel quite natural, but he gets it out and Sokka’s face glows.

“Zuko! Buddy! Good to see you back among the living.”

“Are you okay?” Zuko’s question is hasty and serious, and Sokka just blinks at him.

“Zuko. Really. Why are you asking me?”

“You dealt with my shit, you took me home, and you slept on my fucking floor. So yeah. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Can I lay down on the bed for a few minutes, though? It’s cool if not, but—”

“Yeah, of course.”

Sokka hops up and lies down next to Zuko, whose hands are gripping that turtleduck as if his life depends on it. Sokka pats the turtleduck’s head, smirking at Zuko and brushing his fingers.

We really need to talk about this.

“Does this little dude have a name?” Sokka asks, and Zuko smiles.

His real smile. Not forced, not an awkward curved line along his lips. Genuine, bright, enthused. Real.

By god, Sokka cannot get enough of that smile. I am so fucked.

And it’s a wonderful contrast to Zuko from last night. Not that he doesn’t care about that Zuko. He’s pretty sure he’d do just about anything for him at this point, at any time, in any version of himself. Dear lord, we’ve known each other for what, like a week?

But hell, he only knew Yue for a day before he was falling all over himself for her.

Fuck, I think Aang really is onto something.

“Don’t judge me,” Zuko replies in lieu of an answer.

“Why would I be judging you?”

“Because I’m a grown ass man who sleeps with a stuffed animal.”

“Okay but why would I be judging you?”

There’s that sincerity again. Sokka is actually asking him about his beloved plushie. And it’s fine. It’s like this is a normal conversation between two whole adults to have.

But maybe it could be. Maybe this is what “normal” looks like between them.

Zuko thinks he’d like that.

“Umm, not really,” Zuko returns to Sokka’s query. “It’s just Turtleduck.”

“Never seen a turtleduck before,” Sokka chuckles. “It’s adorable. Where’s it from?”

“No idea. My mom got it for me when I was little. It’s all I have of her now.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Sokka has to pause when his phone vibrates beside him.

Katara: Still at Zuko’s, huh? Oooooooh.

Katara: I hope you’re having lots of fun doing lots of things I will literally beg you to never, ever talk to me about.

Katara: ;)

Sokka: Go away.

Sokka: I hate you. Also I love you.

Sokka: But please fuck off. Talk later.

“Sorry about that, too, heh,” Sokka adds once he’s texted back his sister. “But uh, I lost my mom when I was a kid, too. I guess Katara’s already told you that, but yeah. I get it.”

“Oh. Umm. Yeah. That’s rough, buddy.”

Zuko cringes at his own response, amazed at how fucking stupid that must have sounded, but Sokka just starts cackling.

Zuko is embarrassed but Sokka’s laughter is pure and full of heart, just like everything else about him as far as Zuko can tell.

“Oh god,” Zuko grumbles. “I’m sorry, that was—”

“Oh no, you’re good. I needed that.” And then Sokka looks right into Zuko’s eyes and says something he very much does not intend to say. “You’re fucking precious, you know that.”

And Zuko wants to fight him, he wants to fight him so bad, everything in him telling him that if he goes for this he will ruin it, that he could never deserve whatever Sokka can offer him, that he will only hurt Sokka, but Sokka stayed, Zuko had a total meltdown out of nowhere and Sokka helped him, and Sokka fucking stayed, and…

And then Zuko’s hands are on Sokka’s face, and Zuko’s lips are on Sokka’s lips, the turtleduck squished between them, and he can’t hold himself back, he doesn’t ever want this to stop.

But of course, Toph deems this a good time to knock on Zuko’s door.

“I can hear you laughing in there so I’m guessing you’re both awake and you’re not boning,” she calls from the other side. “Or you are and there’s something funny about it. Either way. Dad made waffles and he wants you to come out and join us. So if you’re not boning, come eat. And if you are boning, hurry up.”

Sokka is grinning ear to ear when they lock eyes again. “I know your sister wants to set us up as bad as mine does, but damn.”

“Oh god, what did Toph say to you? Do I even want to know?” Zuko rolls his eyes but he’s grinning just as wide and bright. “And wait, what? Katara, too?”

“Yeah. Katara, too.”

“They’re lucky we love them, huh?”

“I don’t know. I’m not mad about it.”

Zuko kisses him again, a quick but caring peck, and then they get up and Sokka follows him into the dining room, hand in hand.

“Good afternoon,” Iroh greets them with a hearty laugh. He radiates warmth and love. Sokka cannot help but feel grateful for him.

“So, did you?” Toph asks as they sit down at the table, looking so fucking smug.

“Did we what?” Zuko knows she can’t see the look on his face, but he hopes he projects it into his tone.

“Bone. What else?”

“Toph!” Iroh interjects. “Leave your brother alone.”

“We didn’t,” Zuko says anyway. “For the record.”

“Yet,” Toph counters. “You don’t have to say it. I can feel it.”

“Love often finds us when we least expect it,” Iroh says to confirm his approval. “If two people make each other happy, then they should follow that happiness, wherever it may lead them.”

Zuko would like to set himself on fire. Sokka, on the other hand, looks quite pleased.

“No pressure, though, right,” Toph doesn’t fucking quit.

“I’m just saying,” Iroh responds innocently. “Now, please. Eat.”

***

Suki: everything ok? i thought you’d be home by now

Sokka: Yeah. I’m fine. At Zuko’s. I think Iroh just adopted me. Don’t tell my dad, lol.

Sokka: Also no comments.

Suki: ok fine. no comments. for now. 😘

Sokka stayed for dinner, too. He truly does not feel any rush to leave.

After dinner, he sat in the living room with Zuko, Toph, and Iroh watching Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark with both descriptive audio and subtitles. Sokka was grateful the subtitles made it so he was better able to focus on the dialogue, but he also guessed they’re for Zuko and he isn’t yet ready to think about what in the hell could have given him that scar that did his ear in that way.

Sokka also notes it’s Zuko whose feet Appa sits at while they’re all on the couch.

And about halfway through the movie, which Sokka has seen a million times anyway, Zuko asked if Sokka wanted to hang out alone.

Toph, of course, whistled at them as they departed to the bedroom, but they managed to get themselves back there without snapping at her.

“She means well,” Zuko reminds both Sokka and himself.

“That’s how she shows affection, right?”

“Right.”

He’s lighting way too much incense again, then opening the window and leaning himself halfway out of it to light a cigarette.

Sokka notices the way his eyes narrow at his lighter every time he flicks it. He looks stern, almost judgmental. It’s like he’s trying to assert dominance over it.

Hyperfocused on Zuko the way he is, he’s pretty sure any change in eye movement or breathing wouldn’t be lost on him.

And he is completely caught on him, as far outside as he can get without toppling out onto the street, the neon lights of other nearby shops reflecting off of his skin.

Sokka is angling himself from the other side of the bed to watch Zuko’s face as well as he can with it obstructed by his position.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

Zuko chokes on his drag when Sokka speaks, coughing and gasping, struggling to catch his breath.

And Sokka doesn’t understand why, but when Zuko pulls himself fully back in, he looks mad.

“I was planning on letting you get into my pants already, Sokka. You don’t have to be an asshole about it.”

Sokka listens for any hint of sarcasm, any kind of humor he isn’t grasping, but there’s nothing to it but a scathing bite that makes Sokka’s skin crawl.

“Wait, Zuko, what the fuck just happened? What did I do wrong?”

Sokka looks down, guilt in his words and in his face, and it breaks Zuko’s heart.

He doesn’t lighten up, though, for as much as he wishes he could.

I’m giving you another chance, Sokka. Run.

“Come on. I’ve seen my face.”

“Yeah, well, so have I. And it’s been all I can fucking think about since the first time I did.”

“Yeah, a lot of people have a lot of thoughts about my face.” Zuko leans out again, unable to look at Sokka in this moment. “I hear about it all the fucking time, believe me. I know I look like a fucking horror movie villain, alright? I know I give small children nightmares or whatever. I didn’t fucking ask for this, you know.”

Sokka shifts to bring himself closer to Zuko, who only flinches a little when Sokka grabs his hand.

“Zuko, look at me.”

Zuko huffs, starting to come down from that burst of anger but now rising with shame to take its place.

He takes one last hit and then lets the end drop from the window, and he hangs his head when he sits down and turns towards Sokka.

Sokka brushes back Zuko’s hair from the right side of his face, slowly and carefully, and he waits for Zuko to meet his eyes again.

“Zuko, I’m serious. You’re fucking beautiful. I mean it. I can’t get you out of my head to save my goddamn life. I feel like I’ve known you forever, and I want to know you like I know I don’t, but…you are gorgeous, and you have to believe me that I’m not fucking with you.”

“I’m sorry,” Zuko whispers. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m just so used to…”

“Do you trust me?”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Sokka, I barely know you—”

“But do you trust me?”

Zuko’s pupils go wide. He has known unforgivable cruelty, but he has also known kindness, and he’d like to think he’s learned how to recognize either when he sees it now (even when the latter is so much harder to believe in).

But Sokka’s here. Because Sokka stayed. So. Fuck it.

“Yes.”

Their mouths meet and all tension falls away. Hands glide over skin, tongues glide over lips.

Sokka determines the “I told you so” he’s owed from Aang is more than worth it.

“Stay?” Zuko murmurs between kisses, longing pouring out of him.

Zuko doesn’t even want to fuck him. Well, he does, but not necessarily tonight. He just wants him close, wants him here. He wants to know how it feels to fall asleep next to him, his arms around him. He imagines it feels safe. He wants to experience it. He needs to know.

“Please, Sokka. You don’t have to sleep on the floor this time.”

“Yeah. Yes. Of course. Of course I can stay.”

Rough, ragged breaths heat each other’s skin.

Sokka’s lips move to Zuko’s neck, and Zuko shivers and his hands move into Sokka’s hair.

Zuko was right, it does feel nice. He rubs his fingertips along Sokka’s buzzed hair, the sensation soothing.

Sokka pulls back to look at Zuko and he tries to push back his own loose hairs but instead he pulls it down, lets his hair fall, and oh wow.

“Like what you see?” Sokka has the audacity to wink, like somehow he knows he can be this ridiculous and Zuko will still think it’s hot.

And the worst part is, he’s right.

“Hell yeah,” Zuko breathes out, eager to close the distance between them again, claiming Sokka’s lips and determined to never give them up for anything.

Sokka starts reaching for Zuko’s pants, anticipating the next step, and Zuko freezes.

“Zuko, don’t you want…”

“Yeah, I do.” Zuko presses his forehead against Sokka’s, steadies himself with his hands on Sokka’s shoulders. “Fuck yes, I really do, but… I want this. Right now. Just this. Please.”

Sokka cannot deny the whimper that “please” comes out as, cannot push whatever Zuko’s boundaries may be when he has no idea yet where any of the lines are.

It’s not even necessarily that there is such a line with Zuko, but for some reason he doesn’t want this to move too fast. Maybe it’s because he does feel a connection only Aang could so much as try to explain with Sokka, after spending half of his life resigned to the idea he was unlovable and that emotionless hookups with men who’d never call him again were the best he could ever ask for. He couldn’t see himself as a boyfriend. He couldn’t see anyone wanting their friends to know they’d fucked that face. So maybe it’s okay to take this slow. There are already too many feelings on the line here.

And maybe this is for the best for Sokka. He hasn’t been with anyone he’s genuinely liked since Yue, so fucking long ago. He was practically still a kid, fresh out of high school, but he’d loved her. And then he’d lost her. And he’s been terrified ever since of the consequences of loving again, of who else he could hurt, who else’s lives he could destroy. So one night stands could get him through when his hand wasn’t enough for him anymore, until it was again, and then repeat. And that was fine. But this is…this is not that. This is special. And it should be treated accordingly.

“I just want to hold you,” Zuko cannot believe he’s saying out loud. “I just want to feel you next to me.”

“Yeah.” Another kiss. “Yes. I’m not leaving you tonight. I’m right here.”

“I’m really sorry about last night…about the floor, I…”

“It’s not your fault. It’s not like you planned it.” Sokka lies back and he brings Zuko down to rest his head on Sokka’s chest. “Besides, Katara and I did a lot of camping when we were younger. I’ve slept on far worse. You haven’t lived until you’ve spent the night in a sleeping bag over permafrost.”

“I’ll just have to take your word for that.”

“Your loss.”

And then Sokka curses when his back pocket vibrates.

Suki: bruh. you comin home or what?

Sokka: Nope.

Sokka: And I am not taking questions on this matter at this time.

Suki: aw yeah, get it

Sokka: What did I just say?

Suki: that wasn’t a question

Sokka: Fine. Well played.

Sokka: Goodnight, Suki.

Suki: night, hot stuff 🥰

Sokka rolls his eyes at Suki’s last text and puts down his phone, and he contentedly pets Zuko’s hair until they can barely keep their eyes open, and then Zuko takes his meds and they fall asleep with Sokka’s arms held firmly around him.

***

Ozai’s laugh is haunting.

He will never stop hearing that laugh.

Telling him he deserves this. Telling him this is a learning experience. Telling him the pain might make him stronger. Abandoning all of that and telling him all about what a mistake he was.

And laughing. Laughing, laughing, laughing.

This is fun for him. Hitting him, taunting him.

“Your mother can’t help you now.” He doesn’t understand what makes this so funny. He doesn’t get the joke.

And the fire. The fire, the screaming, the burning, the terror. Thirteen years of pure torture could never have prepared him for this.

He gasps for air, his lungs filled with smoke and his throat raw.

He gasps for air. He can’t breathe. He can’t…

He fights to inhale, exhale, his chest pounding, his body aching, his appendages shaking.

And he can’t move. He can’t turn, something behind him holds him in place and he’s ready to scream but too afraid to make the sound come and then—

“Zuko.” Sokka.

Zuko remembers where he is, whose arms are embracing him. He sighs in relief. His name on Sokka’s lips is like a prayer, and it brings him back.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko whispers. He is so sorry. He no longer wants to scare him off. He doesn’t want to push him away.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Zuko. It’s okay. I’m here.”

“Thank you.”

Sokka kisses his shoulder, so soft and gentle.

And Sokka does not ask questions. Sokka does not pry in the middle of the night and Zuko hasn’t been entirely pulled out of sleep.

He’s never had anyone aside from Iroh hold him after a nightmare before. This is nice. He could get used to this.

And the silence is consoling somehow. Only Sokka’s touch, the warmth of Zuko’s perpetually overheated skin on Sokka, tenderly tangled together.

And once again, Sokka stays.

Why?

Chapter Text

Yue shows up at Sokka’s house mid-breakdown, her long black hair now bright white.

“Yue?”

It’s 1:20am. This had better not wake Gran Gran.

Yue needs him, though. Obviously Yue needs him.

“Yue, what’s wrong?”

Oceans are spilling from her eyes, illuminated by the moon.

“I saw him again.”

“Come here.”

Sokka draws her into his arms. Her hair reeks of chemicals, its previous softness wrecked by whatever products she had to use to get it this light. This must have taken forever, god knows how many rounds of bleach and toner, but he tries to ignore the burning smell as she sobs against his shoulder.

“I wanted to become unrecognizable,” she tries to explain without prompting.

“It’s okay, babe. I’ve got you now. Why don’t you come in and lie down? Sounds like it’s been a long night.”

“I can’t sleep, Sokka. I can’t. Help me.”

“How about we go down to the river? Take a walk?”

“But what if he—”

“I promise I won’t let him hurt you.”

It’s freezing but that’s fine. He takes her hand. They walk together.

They stay close to each other as they stroll along the Kvichak River shore.

They’d met when he’d taken an impromptu trip to Saint Lawrence Island. He has no idea what had brought him there, or what he was doing, or where he was really going. He somehow found himself travelling from Gambell to Agna Qel’a, and she was the first person he saw when he got there. He was so taken by her he’d fallen off the path he was walking on and right into the water below, and made a total ass out of himself. She’d laughed, though, had called it cute.

After that, he started to believe he was supposed to go there. To find her. This was meant to be.

Sokka was eighteen. Young and naïve.

He supposes he was simply in need of an escape, and it turned out she was, too. After a few days spent never leaving each other’s sides, he decided he needed to return to Igiugig. He hadn’t expected her to come with him.

And neither of them expected her ex to follow.

Sokka is nineteen now, and he is yet so sure he is building the foundation of the rest of his life with this woman.

“I can’t keep doing this, Sokka.” Yue is staring at the ground, she can’t meet his eyes.

“We don’t have to stay here, you know.” He wants to help her. He needs to help her. “Remember when we talked about moving to Bethel? Or you know what, fuck it, let’s go to Siberia. We can handle the cold. I hear there’s some nice scenery in the Chukchi Peninsula. New country, new life. It might take us a while to get used to crossing the International Date Line but we can do it, Yue. We can do anything.”

“No, Sokka, I have to get out of here. Far, far away from here.”

Siberia’s not actually that far, it’s true. Approximately 666 miles (heh, how fitting) from here to Provideniya Bay, nearly the same distance Yue travelled from her home to Sokka’s to begin with. They need to run further than that. They need to start it all over.

“Katara’s going to be leaving for school soon. She’s moving all the way to Ba Sing Se. We could go with her. We could start a whole new life. It’s such a big city, you’ll be safe there.”

“Sokka…” Yue presses her lips to his, still wary of eye contact. “You’re so good to me. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Yue. We’ll figure this out, okay? We’ll figure it out together. I promise.”

The next time he sees her, her white hair is soaking wet and he is dragging her out of this same river beneath the full moon.

“I am a fish,” she laughs, spitting out water.

“Yue, what are you…what did you…”

“She’s taking me home,” she says, pointing at the sky. She’s delirious, possibly even psychotic. Sokka doesn’t know what she’s done, or what he can do for her now. “The moon is my home now. She’ll keep me safe.”

He couldn’t keep her safe.

Sokka age twenty-five opens his eyes, and Zuko is on top of him, one arm and one leg wrapped around him. He’s glad to see he’s still sleeping.

They’ve spent every night together for the past two weeks. Toph has started joking about wondering why he even bothers paying rent at his and Suki’s place. Iroh is already treating him like he’s just supposed to be there, as though he is a permanent fixture in their tiny home, as though he always has been.

And no one believes him when he says they haven’t had sex yet. But right now, waking up from dreams of Yue with Zuko clinging to him, this feels like the most intimate thing he could possibly be doing with another person.

Right now, Sokka thinks this is what he needs.

And he knows Zuko’s been hurt, probably far worse than Yue ever was. He couldn’t protect her, but he will not let Zuko—or anyone—down like that. He won’t fail again.

***

One of Sokka’s favorite parts about working on the theatre is when it’s slow or he gets a break, he can draw and no one will ask him about it. He always has notes and sketches with him here, because that’s how he does his job. So when he switches from his professional sketchbook to his personal one, no one notices.

Zuko is sitting cross legged in the center of the stage, his profile at a perfect angle for Sokka to capture in graphite. All of his castmates—Pakku, Sela, Chey, and Jin from the dance troupe—sit around him, but they all keep to his right, leaving him perfectly open to Sokka from the left.

“‘So Harker came in to rebuke Shaughnessy.’” Zuko as Edmund chuckles between the lines, as directed. “‘A very bonehead play! If I needed any further proof that our ruling plutocrats, especially the ones who inherited their boodle, are not mental giants, that would clinch it.’”

Zuko’s disdain for the rich in this recitation is more than just Edmund’s. Sokka almost laughs at how obviously Zuko that was, how much like himself his delivery sounded.

“‘Yes, he’d be no match for Shaughnessy,’” Pakku as James replies, his tone then turning to anger. “‘Keep your damned anarchist remarks to yourself. I won’t have them in my house.’”

Pakku leans forward, shifting from that mild rage to curiosity. “‘What happened?’”

Zuko’s lines again. Sokka loves watching him like this. In his element. He looks free.

“‘Harker had as much of a chance as I would with Jack Johnson.’” And just like that, he is all Edmund again. It’s enthralling, seeing him become someone else so skillfully yet so easily. “‘Shaughnessy got a few drinks under his belt and was waiting at the gate to welcome him. He never gave Harker a chance to open his mouth.’”

Sokka tries to ignore the movement of Zuko’s mouth as he commits his image to the page. He focuses on the curve of the tip of Zuko’s nose, the definition of his jaw, the sharpness of his cheekbone.

The slit of his left eye, its being unable to open any wider. The scar tissue surrounding. The unexplained but surely related shaking and shouting in the night. The squeeze in Sokka’s own chest at the thought.

The reason Zuko can’t believe anyone could truly find him beautiful. As if he were capable of being anything else.

Sokka is allowed to stare now, at least. They didn’t waste much time, and he is thankful.

He watches the sweat forming on Zuko’s brow and wonders how the hell he could be that hot in here. Sokka can handle the cold, having been brought up with it, but he’s perfectly comfortable with his hoodie inside and will probably be a little chilly outside in it. Zuko, on the other hand, did not even bring any additional layers, evidently burning up with only an obscenely thin Alien Sex Fiend t-shirt over his torso (which is a look as far as Sokka is concerned, but that’s beside the point).

Sokka has felt him at night, of course. He’s a human space heater. It’s got to suck for him being on this stage when it’s actually show time and all the lights are going. Sokka can’t imagine how he gets through that.

At some point while Sokka is lost in the finest of details of Zuko’s facial features, Pakku, in character, again yells something at Zuko about “your damned socialist anarchist sentiments,” and then Bumi suggests a break. They have been going for a while.

Sokka closes his sketchbook as quick as he can and tucks it under his arm with his work notebooks, perfectly innocuous.

No one needs to know. No one needs to see his portrait of Zuko, following the countless hyper realistic sketches in all his books of Yue and his mother he draws constantly out of fear of losing everything about them forever, drawing constantly so he never forgets their faces.

He gets lost in thought for a minute, the same kind of easily distracted quality that was so poorly understood when he was in school that his grades tanked beyond redemption despite his being objectively the brightest student in his class, which later led to the rejection of his application to University of Ba Sing Se’s architecture program. He is brought back to reality now, though, by what sounds like a sack of bricks crashing onto the wooden stage floor.

Sokka is on his feet without realizing he stood up, rushing over to the crashed sack of bricks in the shape of a Zuko.

Bumi is shooing everyone else away even while Sokka insists on moving in closer. Pakku grabs a bottle of water from backstage and hands it off to Piandao, Jeong stares at his watch, and Piandao just kneels and hovers. There’s a routine here, Sokka observes. Much like with Zuko’s panic attacks and meltdowns, no one seems especially concerned. Mindful and attentive, responsibly so, but not overtly worried like Sokka. This, too, then, is an event with precedence.

Only a few more seconds pass before Zuko is trying to get up, and Piandao’s role in this is shown to Sokka in that he firmly does not let him.

Bumi, Jeong, and Pakku have now wandered backstage with the rest of the cast. That doesn’t really make Sokka feel any better, although he supposes it should.

Zuko starts insisting he’s fine and that’s when Piandao lets him very, very slowly move into an upright position. Piandao hands him that water from Pakku once he’s sitting, and no one stops Sokka from sitting down next to him.

Zuko realizes Sokka’s been there the whole time, and decides waking up was a mistake.

Piandao pats Sokka on the shoulder and then backs off, as well, leaving Zuko and Sokka alone.

Good to see everyone already knows about them.

Zuko wishes this could have happened somewhere around two weeks ago. He is no longer so set on scaring Sokka away. He believes himself selfish, but now he couldn’t bear to see him go.

Zuko is waiting for questions. He’s a bit disoriented yet, but he’s mostly back to himself, and more than enough to understand Sokka will have questions. And he can’t blame him. He’d have questions, too. The issue is the answers.

His life changed for the better in many ways after Ozai set the last straw. Iroh has put a lot of work into helping Zuko frame it that way, and he can to some extent. He can’t deny it. But his life also changed in many ways for the worse.

Okay, maybe “worse” isn’t fair since he is pretty damn sure nothing could be worse than having stayed in that house, but his life did change in a lot of negative ways, too, just as undeniably.

It’s a shame I don’t have the x-rays. Those were pretty fucking metal. Maybe Sokka would laugh if I said that. He copes with laughter.

Zuko has picked that much up about Sokka. Zuko sees well that he isn’t the only one of them holding back on his sob stories. He sees there’s a lot of pain deep down in Sokka that he knows nothing about. But Sokka can take all the time he needs to talk to Zuko about it. And maybe Sokka feels the same way about what Zuko hasn’t talked about.

Sokka just has the advantage of being able to bury his damage and bring it all up at his own pace. Zuko has so much about his hurt he can’t control—namely his scar, but also how his brain and his body will sabotage his right to privacy. Zuko has caught Sokka having nightmares, but he doesn’t lose it on a whim like Zuko does, and he doesn’t seem to have any chronic physical ailments which can occasionally be impossible to conceal. Zuko would love to learn Sokka’s seemingly impressive compartmentalization skills. But he’ll have to simply envy Sokka’s physical health and fitness. Nothing else he can do about that.

Sokka isn’t asking him anything, though. He’s just encouraging him to drink more water and rubbing his back. That’s it. No pressure, only affection and care.

This doesn’t make any sense to Zuko. Maybe he didn’t wake up, after all.

Post-traumatic chronic pain is a thing. Post-traumatic dysautonomia is…this. I probably should have warned you. I am so much more of a hassle than you’ve seen, and you’ve seen so much already. This is why I don’t usually bother with relationships. Now you’re going to leave. Fuck, this was a mistake.

Sokka stands up and Zuko tenses. This is it, he’s walking away. He’s not dealing with this shit.

But no, he extends his hand and helps Zuko get up, too, and he holds his hand walking together off of the stage.

And yet again, Sokka stays.

***

They end up having lunch with Katara and Aang, and the latter is ecstatic to label this encounter a double date.

Katara, as well, is completely unfazed when Sokka tells her the real reason he wanted Zuko to see her.

He just stood up too fast, Zuko tells her. And she acknowledges this with familiarity.

“You’re just using me for my nursing degree, I see, and I’m not even on the clock,” she laughs, and Zuko blushes but doesn’t say anything about it. “Don’t worry, Zuko, I’ll bill Sokka.”

Zuko excuses himself for a cigarette, and Sokka doesn’t want to let him go outside alone but he does so he can pull Katara aside.

“You don’t need to worry so much,” Katara tries to assure her brother, but she knows he won’t accept it that easily. He didn’t blame himself when their mom died but still went off on what-ifs and became miserably protective of Katara, and then he wholeheartedly did and does blame himself for Yue’s death.

“Do you know…” Sokka knows he’s asking the wrong person, and that it would be wrong to get the answer from her, but he isn’t thinking rationally. All he knows right now is how deeply he cares about this man, how hard he has fallen head over heels for him so fast, and the mistakes he is so convinced he has made in the past and does not want to repeat.

“Katara, do you know how Zuko got that scar?”

“I do.”

“So he’s told you? He’ll talk about it eventually?”

And his pocket buzzes.

Suki: you know lesbians call this uhauling

Suki: is there a term for men?

Suki: i’m gonna call it zukkaing

Sokka: Zukkaing? Really?

Suki: yeah zukka. ty lee mai and i gave you a ship name. you’re welcome. 😎

Sokka: -.-

“I’ve seen his medical records,” Katara admits. “Not extensively, I passed him off to another nurse because I was worried about treating him being a conflict of interest, but I got him in the emergency room once and I saw some things I’m not sure he would have wanted me to see. Which also means that even if I would tell you without his permission, which I wouldn’t, I legally can’t. I know you’re not gonna snitch on me but I’m not violating HIPAA even for you. Sorry not sorry.”

“Well…damn.”

“He’ll tell you, Sokka.” Katara wraps one arm around him and rests her head on his shoulder. “It might take him some time, but I know he will. I’ve never seen him become so comfortable with anyone so quickly, you know. He really, really likes you, everyone can tell. And he’s never told me but that could be because he knows I’d already found out. And I had never before seen him just casually admit to anyone about his eye without them guessing. That’s big, Sokka. That’s you.”

“Is the story as god awful as I’m imagining? Will you tell me that much?”

“Sokka…”

“Fuck.”

“It’s probably worse.”

He has no specific theories. He’s figured out it probably wasn’t an accident, but he hasn’t thought too hard about what the hell that could possibly mean. He has connected enough dots to figure out Zuko’s birth father is probably at fault, but this all leaves a lot of missing pieces. At this point he mostly just hopes he doesn’t cry when Zuko finally talks about it. He has his suspicions he’s probably going to cry whenever Zuko finally talks about it.

“Katara…” Sokka is quiet, nervous. He’s thought this a lot over the past several days, but he didn’t expect himself to say it out loud so soon. “I’m kind of scared I might be in love with him. I know that’s ridiculous, but—”

“I knew it!” Aang shouts from across the kitchen table, and Sokka facepalms. “I told you! You’re connected!”

“And now I think it’s time to go,” Sokka laughs.

But Sokka actually flops down on a chair and puts his head down on the table, and then Aang’s cat starts rubbing against his legs.

“Aww, Momo knows you need a hug!” Aang chuckles, and Sokka just groans.

“No, I… I’m gonna go get Zuko home.”

“And then sleep there again?” Katara elbows him in the side. She wants to make him laugh, but he doesn’t.

“Honestly? Probably.” Sokka shrugs. They can make fun of him all he wants. He doesn’t even care anymore. “Suki might kill me soon, but…”

I’m kind of scared I might be in love with him.

And I don’t ever want to be anywhere else again.

Chapter Text

They’re at Sokka’s for a change. It seemed only fair for Zuko to spend some time in his domain, too.

Zuko’s bedroom is messy and sparse in decoration, while Sokka’s is a highly personalized organized chaos.

It looks like a disaster area but Sokka knows where everything is, and there is clearly a system here Zuko doesn’t know if Sokka himself understands.

On and along the walls are a giant bisexual pride flag, autographed photos of The Rock and Mick Foley, a few band and video game posters, a large corkboard filled with ticket stubs and receipts, an antique wolf helmet, a boomerang, a spear, a sword, and a machete…and two framed obituaries.

The first has a photo of a woman Zuko can guess instantly was Sokka’s mother. The resemblance to both him and Katara is unmistakable (although Sokka does look much more like this father, but Zuko has no way to know that).

Kya Tarneq Emeq… Survived by her husband, Hakoda, and their two children, Sokka and Katara…

It doesn’t say much beyond that, only the dates she was born and died and then information about where funeral services were held. No other information was published.

The second has no photo attached, and is in a slightly different print. It might be because they’re years apart, but it might be from a different newspaper. But it must also be important, with Sokka having saved an actual newspaper clipping like he had for his mom.

Yue La Quiimiu… Survived by her father, Arnook…

And that’s it. There are also her dates (and oh, she was young, she was very young), but details about her services had been withheld. And there is no mention of Sokka, no clues as to who she was to him.

Zuko feels lost here. He and Sokka are almost always together anymore and they are both in deep, but each is still so closed off from the other.

Zuko doesn’t want to be anywhere else, or with anyone else. It’s intense and all consuming. It is everything. Sokka is everything.

But this isn’t love, it’s limerence.

And it could grow into something real. There is no doubt in the world. But Zuko can’t move on it. And neither, it seems, can Sokka.

Even in partnership, they continue doing this dance of the damned. It’s infuriating, but they are both so fucking trapped.

Zuko feels like a fucking teenager. Or so he presumes this is what teenage infatuation feels like. He wouldn’t actually know, not from experience, but he’s watched television and he sure as fuck doesn’t feel like an adult in how he’s managing this, so.

It will all start with honesty. From both of them.

So right now, they provide the closest replacement they can conjure: patience for the other’s problems.

Right now, instead of asking Sokka about Yue or about his mother, Zuko is lying on the bed drinking bottled iced tea and rereading his script while Sokka plays video games.

He’s playing Mass Effect 2, and Zuko peeks up to see he’s doing a mission involving one of the player character’s crew going on a quest to rescue her sister from their toxic biological father.

This gets Zuko’s attention.

The father is rich, the story goes, and the character who left the “father” on her own and then saved her sister has been betrayed by a friend who was supposed to help her protect her sister. He uses the father’s wealth as a defense.

“I’ve been poor,” he tells her. “I didn’t much care for it.”

Like that’s an even slightly valid reason to want to send someone back to an evil bioparent.

Zuko, to his surprise, responds to the screen.

“There are some things no amount of money in the world can fix.”

Sokka shrugs. “I wouldn’t want to go back to this asshole, either. But come on, being that rich would have to be a little tempting.”

“It’s not. I promise.”

“Oh right. Toph’s old family. I forgot. Sorry.”

Deep breath, Zuko. Sokka should know. You should have started this conversation weeks ago.

“It’s…it’s not just Toph’s biofam. I was actually thinking of mine.”

“The one you ran away from?” Sokka sets down his controller, completely ignoring the cutscene having ended and switched into combat, and meeting the “critical mission failure” screen.

But Sokka has to give Zuko his full attention, he has to, desperate for any glimpse of his backstory he can get (god, how is it possible that this man is such a mystery and yet so thoroughly in charge of Sokka’s heart?).

“Yeah,” Zuko sighs. His voice shakes. His hands shake. He forces himself to keep talking. “Rich. Filthy rich. More money than god. I cannot possibly stress to you enough how obscenely rich that man is. He was named in the fucking Panama Papers, that’s how rich. But I couldn’t have stayed there for any amount of money in the world. And don’t get me wrong, living with Dad, I’ve learned there are versions of happiness money can buy. Financial stability buys peace of mind, that’s true. Dad says ‘there’s a simple honor in poverty,’ and I think he really believes that, but I’ve learned in slow times at the shop that being poor can be awful. But same as Toph, I’d rather live on the street than ever go back to what I left. He would never want me back, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t know where I’d be right now if I’d stayed with him, but it would be bad. If I was even alive, it would be bad. Fuck his money. I lost the promise of a large inheritance when I ran and he disowned me, and it was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Sokka turns off his console.

He crawls up the bed, lying on his side beside Zuko and putting his hands on his shoulders, bringing him down to face him. Zuko is perfectly pliant for Sokka, following his movements so eagerly. Sokka has to force back his question of if the way Zuko melts and bends for him so easily is a preview of things to come, but for now he laces their fingers together and looks into Zuko’s eyes. Zuko struggles to hold the eye contact, but that’s okay. He’s still shaking, but—once again—Sokka’s got him.

(Has Sokka heard of limerence? Does he realize what a waste it is, putting so much energy into the ephemeral?)

“What…” Sokka looks so sad, he looks so fucking sad and Zuko’s heart falls, Sokka shouldn’t look this sad over him, this is not fucking fair.

“What happened, Zuko?”

(Sokka has heard the term, he knows what it means. It does not once cross his mind. It is not in his head at all. He hasn’t admitted the word “love” to anyone else since he said it to Katara, and he doesn’t feel entirely comfortable calling it that, but he knows this is not small or simple. This is special. This is sacred.)

Zuko closes his eyes and swallows hard. He has to start somewhere.

“He was…he was bad, Sokka. He hurt me. He hurt my mom. She tried to take my biosister and me with her when she left, but he threatened her. He threatened me. I never blamed Mom for leaving anyway. He probably would have killed her if she’d stayed after that. But she was the only person in that house who loved me. After she left, and I was the only punching bag left, well…”

“He did that to you, didn’t he?” Sokka’s eyes shoot to the left side of Zuko’s face, and Zuko would know exactly what he meant even if he wasn’t watching him closely enough to notice. “Your scar? How in the fuck…”

“I don’t remember it too well. He came home angry from work. Took it out on me. I stood up for myself. It was the first time, and the last time. I’m still not sure if he was literally trying to kill me or not. But Dad told me he almost did. He said it was really scary, not knowing for a few weeks if I was gonna make it or not. But he, uh, bashed my head into the fireplace. It was on. I guess I blacked out because I don’t remember him grabbing my hair and putting me in it, and I don’t know why there was blood in my mouth, but I do remember tasting it and him holding me over the fire. Vaguely. I probably passed out again. I don’t know, it was…it was a lot. So, like, I was there and then I wasn’t. It hurt so, so much, more than I knew anything could hurt, but then it didn’t. Between the massive third and fourth degree burns on my fucking face and having a fresh head injury with like skull fractures and shit, who knows. It’s all really fuzzy. So there was that and then I was trying to escape. I was inside then I was outside, then I was in a hospital. Maybe a neighbor found me. No idea. But that was the last time I saw Ozai, thank god, and—”

Ozai. Zuko says his former father’s name and it finally clicks in Sokka’s head, the infamous Ozai Aki is Zuko’s abuser. He couldn’t recall that fucker’s name the last couple of times he was mentioned, not really being someone Sokka thinks much about aside from being one of the obvious first casualties of the class war once the revolution comes, but that’s why Zuko reacts so strongly to Comet Industries coming up. Because that fucking guy is the one who did this, and oh fuck, Sokka was right to be afraid he was going to cry because yep, he’s crying.

“Holy shit, Zuko. I am…I am so fucking sorry. Oh my god, I don’t even know what else to—”

“It’s okay, Sokka. I was thirteen. It was a long time ago. You don’t need to—”

Thirteen, oh god. Sokka has forgotten in this telling that he already knew Zuko ran at thirteen, but it was hard to take that this had to mean he was beaten and burned and quite possibly deliberately left out to die when he was barely even a teenager.

“Zuko, are you trying to comfort me? What the hell?”

“I don’t even know how long I was in the hospital.” Zuko is now just talking. Freely. Almost casually. Which is weird because he doesn’t really talk about this ever. “Apparently I was sort of in and out of consciousness for a while and I went into shock. I know they monitored the head injury thing super close, Dad mentioned that at some point. And that’s still never been the same, but. Well. Anyway, I guess that part especially was pretty touch and go for a bit. There were points the doctors thought I just might not wake up again. I remember Dad crying a lot. I wasn’t really there for much of it but when I was… I was told he basically never left my side, and he was always there but he was almost always crying.”

This is the most he’s ever said to anyone who wasn’t Iroh, Toph, or Dr. Shyu.

“Reasonably, I should have died,” he continues, reiterating, and again he says that like it’s nothing. “That much damage to a kid was…it should have been insurmountable. And I guess it kind of was, I mean I never actually fully recovered, but…I didn’t die somehow. They told me I was ‘a fighter.’ That I was ‘a survivor.’ And now I’m rambling and oh god, Sokka, I’m so sorry, I should shut up now, are you okay?”

Sokka has taken on Zuko’s shaking and he is outright sobbing at this story. Katara was right, this was so much worse than anything he could ever in a million years have come up with in the deepest recesses of his worst nightmares.

“Fuck, Zuko. But right, yeah, someone must have found you.” The mental image of a literal fucking child burned and bleeding and broken and bruised, all alone lying on the street on the edge of death, out there on his own in need of help he couldn’t have known he was going to get, just a goddamn kid, is heartbreaking. “And no one reported this? Child services weren’t called? He just fucking got away with it?”

“Oh yeah, it got reported all the time. It was always kind of obvious. Mom and I both, before she got out. Ozai must have paid off someone in the Caldera PD or something, though, or maybe they just didn’t want to get on his bad side because money and power or whatever, but there had to be some sort of deal because they always sent the same pig and he genuinely didn’t care. He thought I deserved it, too. Officer Zhao. Once, once, we got Officer Shinu and he almost looked like he felt sorry for me but he still didn’t help. And I heard Shinu and Zhao didn’t get along but Shinu never did anything about Zhao either, so…ACAB.”

Sokka has his arms around Zuko and his head buried into his neck, and his hands are balled into fists clutching Zuko’s shirt at his back. He is fairly certain this is the most horrific thing he’s ever heard. Even after losing his mom, even after watching Yue die, he cannot fucking imagine this.

Zuko is rubbing a hand along the fuzzy, shaved undersides of Sokka’s head again, trying to soothe them both.

Zuko feels sort of like he just set down a heavy weight. Like he was holding several and he still has most of them but a few are just…gone.

Except, of course, that he didn’t so much set them down as thrust them onto Sokka and force him to carry them for Zuko, and now he feels terrible for sharing this burden.

“Sokka… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

When Toph found out how he’d ended up with Iroh, she’d slapped him on the back and cursed and joked about the guillotine being too good for Ozai and suggested far more painful methods of execution. And Dr. Shyu was as perfectly professional as he’s paid to be.

Up until this point, no one Zuko had to properly tell has reacted like this. Only Iroh had been so upset but he’d watched most of it in real time, so Zuko assumed it would always be different after.

But here is Sokka, and Zuko doesn’t know how to comfort him when it’s his fault he’s in this condition to begin with.

“Zuko, it’s not your fault,” Sokka corrects Zuko’s inner monologue. “You have nothing—nothing—to apologize for, okay? The only person who needs to be sorry for anything is fucking Ozai and there is no apology in the world he could ever give that would be good enough.”

Zuko kisses Sokka’s head once, and then twice, and then…

“The internet is wrong, he doesn’t get the guillotine,” Sokka adds, and Zuko chuckles. “He deserves so, so much worse than that.”

“That’s almost exactly what Toph says. But umm, please don’t say anything about this. On the internet. Or you know, at all, to anyone. But seriously don’t say anything public. I don’t want him to go after you. He’d probably take legal action at the very least, and you have no proof so anything you could say is just baseless accusations and…it isn’t worth it. And I don’t know how much more he would do, but I know how much worse he can do, so please…”

“Your secret’s safe, Zuko. I promise.” Sokka relaxes under Zuko’s continued head kisses, still sniffling but becoming less tense. “But, wow. How the fuck can someone do that to anyone? Much less a child? Much less their child?”

“He always said he was only doing what needed to be done. That it would make me stronger or smarter or more respectful or…I don’t know, he had lots of ways to justify it. There was always a reason I deserved it.”

“Zuko, you don’t…you don’t believe that, do you?”

“Not anymore.” Or at least, Iroh and Dr. Shyu have been trying their damnedest to teach him he never deserved any of that for years now. He’s much better with it than he used to be (several sessions with Dr. Shyu of making Zuko try to rationally explain why he deserved that treatment but his mother didn’t was helpful since, as Dr. Shyu had anticipated, he couldn’t), but he isn’t great. He likely never will be, and even the mental health professionals have told him that.

But it’s nice to hear it from Sokka.

“Good. You shouldn’t. You never deserved that, and there is no excuse for… Zuko, you never deserved that.”

“Thank you,” Zuko lets slip.

“But you…you said you never fully recovered from your injuries?” Sokka is seeking an understanding of Zuko, of all he is and everything he endures, and Zuko is scared of the vulnerable position this puts him in but he doesn’t shy away.

“Yeah. There’ve been, umm, a lot of long term effects.”

“Is that why you fainted the other day?”

“Yeah. I had seizures for like a year or so after but those stopped. Now I just pass out every once in a while instead, I guess. And I still have a lot of pain that’s never going away, but…I can’t do anything about it. Ozai’s out of my life now but, you know, gone but not forgotten.”

“Fuck, Zuko, you never deserved what he did to you,” Sokka feels the need to repeat. “And you don’t deserve to keep dealing with it now.”

It’s nice to hear it from this beautiful, pure soul who is gripping onto him with all his might, and his presence has already become such a comfort Zuko is no longer sure how he ever lived without it or if he ever could again.

Don’t get carried away. It’s a crush. It’s nice now, but don’t hype it up to be something it can’t.

(But Sokka has stayed throughout everything so far. Sokka doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere.)

“Are you okay, Sokka? How can I help?”

“Zuko, stop.”

“Sokka, I…I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Sokka lifts his head, his face wet as he presses his mouth to Zuko’s. He just wants him close, wants him to feel good. He wants to show him he is worthy of affection, of…of love, or at least that he could be, or…

Sokka doesn’t want to overthink it, and right now he just needs to act.

“Zuko, let me…let me give you what you do deserve.”

He kisses him with the most gorgeous passion, and Zuko knows in his soul he does not deserve this, but…

Sokka’s lips move down his neck, and then suddenly both of them are fumbling to remove Zuko’s shirt, and Sokka keeps trailing downwards, and this time Zuko doesn’t stop him from unbuttoning his jeans.

He’s hard as a rock when Sokka pulls on his crimson boxer briefs, and he cannot contain the sound that escapes his throat when Sokka takes his cock into his mouth.

It’s been…a while since Zuko’s been with anyone but himself, and this the first time he hasn’t felt like a random conquest.

He is not just the broken man with the big scar and bigger resting bitch face it would feel like an accomplishment to bust out of his shell long enough to get off with and then swiftly ask to leave because who the hell wants to wake up next to that.

But Sokka does. And Zuko knows Sokka does because Sokka has, and he keeps coming back.

And now he’s as far down Sokka’s throat as he can get and Sokka is staring up at him, locking eyes and he is so beautiful, everything about this is so beautiful, everything about him is so beautiful, and…

Zuko’s breath hitches and he exhales Sokka’s name in a longing whisper, his hands in Sokka’s hair as his hips twitch.

Zuko knew he wasn’t going to last long, and he doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed about how little time it took when he comes with a gasp and a soft but deep, throaty moan.

He barely stops to catch his breath before he grabs Sokka and pushes him on his back, and then climbs on top of his with the words, “Your turn.”

He was going to ask about Yue, but for now that will have to wait. He knows now, though, that he has to, and not because now Zuko’s spilled so much about his greatest demons to Sokka.

No, it’s because if they’re going to do this, they’re going to do it right. And it’s because they are going to do this.

Chapter Text

Zuko brought his turtleduck to Sokka’s. Just to be safe. He couldn’t risk not.

And it’s good he did.

Fuck, they do not want to take their hands off of each other. It would be so easy to lie here forever, kissing and touching, leaving hands and lips free to wander, exploring each other and their bodies and letting time fall away from them completely as they teased and tangled.

But that would also be a distraction. An incredible distraction, but a distraction.

Zuko does realize, too, that in the glow of his recent orgasm with the taste of Sokka’s still fresh on his tongue, this might not be the best time to probe into the more depressing end of Sokka’s personal life, but he knows himself and he’s seeing he knows Sokka pretty damn well in the same regard, so he knows they’ll both put this off forever if they don’t dive in.

They need to talk about it while he’s here, at least. Yue’s name on the wall gives him good reason to ask about who she was.

“Zuko,” Sokka pants. Zuko’s head is resting on Sokka’s bare thighs, using them as a pillow, and Sokka still has one hand in Zuko’s hair and his other hand in Zuko’s hand.

The pressure on his head eases (head touching is acceptable; hair pulling is, however, understandably, absolutely fucking not). The grip on his hand doesn’t.

“Fuck, Zuko.” Sokka is overwhelmed with emotion. So much just happened. Zuko was pouring out his life story and Sokka was crying and then…

And then Sokka just wanted to treat Zuko right and he did, and Zuko was eager to return the favor, but now they’re not talking and Zuko is the only one who’s bared his heart and Sokka isn’t forgetting that.

He needs a minute, though. He just needs a minute. Or several.

Zuko is spinning, trying not to laugh at how very fucked the order they’re doing everything in is.

Hey so, now that you’ve heard all about that time my own supposed “father” almost killed me when I was a kid, you’ve got a damn nice cock and I’d really love to take it but do you prefer to top or bottom? Oh and by the way, what’s your favorite color? Is it blue? You wear a lot of blue. Mine’s red, for the record.

And while we’re sharing things, what’s your favorite song and you know, you whimper in your sleep, too, so what’s up with that?

Eventually Zuko moves off of Sokka and they readjust their clothing, but instead of getting up Zuko latches onto Sokka and holds him close enough to smother them both.

Sokka is quickly figuring out Zuko has a lot of love to give, that his heart is overflowing with it and he hasn’t had enough people in his life to give it to, but he is bad at accepting it.

Zuko is holding Sokka not because he needs it for himself (although he clearly does), but because he thinks Sokka needs it (which, in his defense, is also true). So Sokka is not going to counter this. By simply taking what Zuko is offering him, Sokka has been given a cheat code for making Zuko take the affection as well. It looks like as long as he thinks Sokka is simply reciprocating the affection Zuko is actively giving him, which is in fact difficult to not return as it’s happening, he doesn’t fight it.

One day I hope you’ll learn to let me hold you for your sake.

I hope I’ll be with you long enough to see it.

Suki can make all the bad lesbian jokes about them she wants. Sokka is so fucking lost in Zuko, and he wants to give him the world.

Zuko is tracing his fingertips along the line work of Sokka’s tattoos. Zuko hasn’t yet seen the crescent moon on Sokka’s chest, over his heart, but Sokka’s arms are well decorated and they have captured Zuko’s attention.

(That and how goddamn solid Sokka is, how hard his arms are, how strong they look and feel. Another reason his embrace feels like safety.)

Some of them are cultural, lines and dots done back home in the skin stitching tradition, bands with elaborate detail between them. Exposed right now, as well, are a silhouette of Alaska, a moon and sun side by side, a wolf, what Zuko recognizes as Sokka’s mother’s birth and death dates beneath her initials surrounded by waves, several sets of coordinates, and a set of black and white koi fish circling each other.

Zuko also has not seen the absurdly sized grey dinosaur-esque serpent-eel-fish hybrid thing he and Suki designed together while they were drunk and then both got tattooed on their calves as a symbol of their friendship after joking about it and then having to prove Katara wrong when she said they would never do something so stupid as to actually get the giant wild and dangerous sea monster they’d dubbed “The Unagi” permanently inked into their skin.

“I need a cigarette,” Zuko says after a minute, and Sokka immediately decides he isn’t letting him leave the apartment for it.

“You can use the living room. Suki and Ty Lee smoke weed in there all the time so they can’t say shit.”

Sokka pauses, unsure if he should say what he’s about to say, but knowing that’s never stopped him before. “Just, umm, promise me you’ll use the ashtray, okay?”

“Of course I—oh.” Zuko absentmindedly pulls away and awkwardly hugs himself in an attempt to hide his arms.

“Zuko, I… It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You don’t have to hide from me. I just… I don’t know, just please…”

“I can’t make that promise,” Zuko tells him honestly. “I can do my best not to do it here, but if you’re asking me not to do it at all, I can’t make that promise. I don’t even always know I’m doing it until it’s done. I try not to, but…”

But dissociation. But depersonalization. But derealization. Sometimes he just can’t stay in his own mind or body. Sometimes he just does things he isn’t aware of and won’t remember.

And he was seriously hoping to move the conversation off of himself.

“I get that,” Sokka admits. “The part about not always realizing what you’re doing. I won’t ask you to promise anything. But I really would rather not have to see you do it, if you can avoid it.”

“You’re being way too understanding.” Zuko isn’t used to this. He doesn’t deserve this. What’s the catch? When is the other shoe going to drop?

“It’s not your fault,” Sokka replies. “You’ve been through hell. I don’t have to like it, and I think I’d honestly be a pretty shitty person if I did, but who am I to judge? But you know, if you do catch yourself beforehand, tell me and I’ll try to help. I don’t know if I’ll be able to, but I’d like to try.”

Sokka is a caretaker. Sokka makes himself responsible for everyone else’s well being, even at the cost of his own.

And Zuko is seeing straight through him.

“Sokka…”

“It just sucks when someone you care about is in that much pain and you can’t do anything to help.” Sokka’s eyes dart to Yue’s obituary. For only a split second, but they do. “But it’s even worse when you don’t get a chance to try. When someone you care about is hurting that much and they hide it from you and you don’t find out how bad it was until it’s too late. I’m not sure that’s something I can go through again.”

Again.

That last word hovers in the air, threatening to choke them.

“Sokka. I’m sorry but I can’t make that promise.”

“Can you promise me you’ll try?”

Sokka, why are you doing this to yourself?

Sokka, you’re making a mistake.

Sokka, I’m not worth this.

Sokka surges towards Zuko and kisses him again, blinking back more tears.

And internally screaming about how he apparently has a type.

“Sokka, what are you doing?”

Sokka himself cannot figure out how to answer that. So instead he sits up and gets off the bed. “Come on, let’s go sit on the couch. I need to get you the ashtray, anyway. Suki hides it when she’s done in case the landlord or maintenance or something decides to drop by for some reason.”

“Paranoid, much?”

“If you ask her, ‘just cautious.’”

They walk into the living room and Sokka gestures for Zuko to take a seat. He grabs the ashtray from a nearby cabinet drawer and puts it on the coffee table with a thumbs up and then proceeds to open the window. He then gets Suki’s essential oil diffuser and some corresponding oil from the ashtray drawer and sets that up on the coffee table, too.

“Hey,” he gets Zuko’s attention before sitting to his left, and he takes Zuko’s hand once he’s comfortable.

They sit in complete silence while Zuko smokes, and it’s strangely not tense. They’re not going to start a new conversation while Sokka’s on Zuko’s deaf side, but he wanted to touch him and he didn’t want to get in the way of what is apparently somehow the healthiest of Zuko’s unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Zuko does successfully put his cigarette out on the glass ashtray, and then Sokka stands up and takes Zuko’s hand, and leads him back into the bedroom.

Suki should be home soon and while Sokka doesn’t have anything to say she hasn’t already heard, this is still a discussion between him and Zuko and it would just be a little weird to start it and then have Suki walk in and derail it.

But Sokka hasn’t forgotten he said “again.” And he knows he has to explain that. And he owes it to Zuko to share of himself after how much Zuko shared with him. Relationships are built on trust, and Sokka has to show Zuko he can trust him the way Sokka was offered Zuko’s trust.

“I’m still not asking you to make any promises you’re not positive you can keep, okay?” Sokka starts, and Zuko doesn’t even think about it when he pulls out his plushie. “And I really, really don’t want you to go anywhere. But I know I…I did have someone I loved, when I couldn’t protect her, and. Wait, let me start over. Umm, alright, let me…Zuko, let me explain.”

Chapter Text

Zuko doesn’t cry much. Most people don’t generally understand the concept of “too depressed to cry,” and aren’t too receptive to having it explained to them.

Sometimes he cries over movies or television shows. In fact, he regularly tries to do this on purpose. Because otherwise, it’s been a few years since he’s had a good cry at real life. Which is a thing he desperately needs, but for the most part is not a thing he can do.

So after Sokka cried so hard hearing the worst of Zuko’s backstory, and is so obviously going to cry again recounting this part of his own, Zuko and his dry eyes preemptively feel like absolute shit.

“Yue was my first serious partner,” Sokka explains. “We met on a whim. I was somewhere I hadn’t planned on ending up, hundreds of miles from home because I was in a mood and went off, and I found her there. And don’t judge me for saying this, I was eighteen, but I was fucking positive it was love at first sight. We were just meant to be, you know.”

Zuko doesn’t want to say out loud that he thinks he has some idea.

He doesn’t know if Sokka would realize Sokka is that idea for Zuko, but he simply nods.

“She’d been dating this cocky asshole, Hahn,” Sokka continues. “They dated in fucking high school, but he was obsessed with her. Her dad has money, too, and he’s in government, and that’s what Hahn was into. She was beautiful, like straight up almost didn’t look like she could be a real person breathtaking—”

Just like you, they both think to themselves.

“—And on top of that, her dad’s loaded and powerful. Or as Hahn liked to refer to it, right to my face, ‘she comes with the most perks.’”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Yeah. She was nothing but a prize to him. She wasn’t human, she was just a thing he thought he’d won, and that’s exactly how he treated her. So Yue and I met and we clicked and I was staying in a hostel, and she stayed with me because it was an easy way out when Hahn knew where she lived. And I started feeling bad about being there—I’d just left without telling anyone, I knew my family had to be worried sick—so I told her I had to go home. She asked if she could come with me. I said yes.”

“But that didn’t work, did it?”

“No. Turned out he was tracking her phone.”

“Fuck.”

“Which also meant he had it out for me since he’d been watching us together at the hostel, but that wasn’t really important. I could handle him. Had to a couple of times. But he wouldn’t leave her alone. Her dad even found me on Facebook, messaged me asking me to protect her. I guess he liked Hahn for a while, he put on a real good show for him, but then he saw some really bad shit and…well. To this day I have no idea why he trusted me so readily after that, but.”

“Hahn hurt her, didn’t he?” Zuko’s eyes narrow when he says the word hurt, clearly asking without asking if Hahn killed her.

“No. Well, yes. But also no. Not like…not like that. It’s mostly his fault she’s gone, but he didn’t do it. Not directly.”

“Mostly?”

“Mostly, yeah. He did the dirty work but I’m not innocent in this. I was supposed to protect her.”

“Sokka…”

“Yue came home with me. She stayed with me for a little while but I lived with Katara and our grandmother and our house was tiny, so she got a job and her own place and for a while it really seemed like this was working. Hahn was in town within a fucking week, but aside from him things were kind of normal. She made my hometown her home, too. Everyone loved her. We were still together all the time. But he was always close behind. He’d show up at her job, even at my house. We got her a new phone, a new number, destroyed the old one, but he’d find her. Living in a town with a population that stays around sixty, there really aren’t a lot of places to hide. We talked about moving but we were young and broke and never got a real plan together. And after a while, Yue was…she was not okay. She never felt safe. She wasn’t safe. I guess you probably know what that’s like, huh?”

“Just a little,” Zuko snickers. Sokka copes with humor. And Zuko is not the one they’re talking about right now.

“And uh, yeah, he did hurt her. He hurt her bad, back in Agna Qel’a—oh, um, where she’s from. And it just all built up and she was showing signs of PTSD, but she couldn’t deal with it because she kept seeing him and she was hypervigilant because she had to be, and after about a year in Igiugig it just got to be too much. I was supposed to be her fresh start. I was supposed to keep her safe, and I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

Sokka puts too much on himself. It’s heartbreaking. But Hahn didn’t kill Yue, so Zuko still does not understand. “Sokka, what…what do you mean? What happened? How could it possibly be your fault?”

“I tried to save her. I really did. We used to take walks together by the river. It was our spot. But I couldn’t fucking look at it anymore after… I found her, I thought I found her in time. I dragged her out of the water but…I didn’t know it was too late. She was rambling about going home to the moon, about the moon being the one who’d protect her, and she didn’t say it but it was because I couldn’t. But she hadn’t been trying to drown herself. She just liked the water. She wanted to be there when she…when she… I couldn’t even give her that, though. I didn’t know it was already too late. She’d taken a whole bunch of cold medicine and over the counter sleeping pills. By the time I got there, there was nothing anyone could do. It was already over. All I could do was watch. I held her. I was holding her when she…”

Sokka is bawling so hard he can’t speak anymore. Zuko is fairly certain he is the worst person in the world right now with his blank face and his rigid body, or at least that Sokka has to see him as such.

Zuko wraps his arms around him, though, holds him close and gently runs his fingers through his hair with one hand and rubs his back with the other. He nuzzles his nose into Sokka’s shoulder, doing everything he can to show Sokka he cares and to not appear as callous and emotionless as he’s afraid he does.

And he definitely does not want Sokka to know he’s tried something similar, and has been living for years with intense bitterness about the fact that his attempts didn’t work.

“It’s not your fault, Sokka,” he does say. “It’s not, I promise you it’s not. Fuck that Hahn guy, he did this to her, not you. You did everything you could for her. Her dad trusted you because you deserved it, but if he blamed you then he can go fuck himself, too.”

“He didn’t.” Sokka tries to catch his breath, not believing Zuko’s reassurance for a second but grateful to hear it. “He didn’t blame me at all. But he did trust me, he trusted me with her, with his only child, and I lost her.”

“You did your best,” Zuko presses. “You took care of her when she needed you. You were there for her. What happened was out of your control, Sokka. She was lucky to have you. It sounds to me like she got an extra year she wouldn’t have had otherwise, and she got to spend it with someone who loved her. You gave her that. And it isn’t your fault she couldn’t give you longer. It’s not her fault, either. It’s bullshit it had to down that way and I am so fucking sorry you went through that. But you can’t blame yourself.”

“Can and will,” Sokka laughs, disturbingly mirthless.

Oh fuck, we belong together, don’t we?

“Zuko, I… I wasn’t there when my mom died. I don’t know how much Katara’s told you, but I wasn’t there. And I know there wouldn’t have been anything I could have done, I was just a kid, but…Katara was there, and she had to go through that alone. And then I was there when Yue died, and I wasn’t a kid anymore, and I’d promised her and her dad she’d be safe with me, and there was still nothing I could do.”

“No, Sokka. There wasn’t.”

“And I’m supposed to fucking accept that?” Zuko flinches when Sokka yells into his chest, but he doesn’t let him go or ease off at all. “If I can’t help the people I love—if I can’t love them enough—then what fucking good am I?”

For a moment, one fleeting but chilling moment, Zuko thinks he might cry. He doesn’t, but the eye he can cry out of burns like it’s about to start and there’s a heavy lump in his throat, but it’s over as soon as it begins.

It is certainly worth noting, however, that it happened at all.

Sokka weeps into Zuko’s shirt, and Zuko doesn’t care. At all. He holds him as tight as he can, using every ounce of strength he possesses and then some, clutching so hard it hurts.

“If you want to go, I understand,” Sokka whispers. “I’ll drive you home. If you don’t want to risk trusting me to be there for you and give you what you need after everything you’ve been through, I don’t blame you.”

Sokka is genuinely afraid Zuko is going to walk out on him now, he truly believes he’s just completely damned himself and made himself irredeemable in Zuko’s eyes, despite Zuko’s protests to the contrary.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m here, Sokka.” After that story, after watching Sokka fall apart and seeing him keep breaking down about it, knowing he’s carried this for so many years and intends to carry it for the rest of his life, Zuko finds it impossible to not trust him. He is in downright awe of Sokka’s capacity for love. He has never known anyone like him, and all he wants is to know him more. All he wants right now is to show Sokka he is worthy, to give him all the love he knows he deserves.

Zuko does not trust easily. But he trusts Sokka.

“I’m here, Sokka,” he promises. In this moment, that is a promise he can keep.

He only prays to whoever might listen that Sokka won’t blame himself if anything happens to him in the future.

Chapter Text

Sokka understands the turtleduck.

Zuko offered it to him while he cried in his arms, offered his greatest source of comfort to the person who is quickly coming to tie with it.

And Sokka accepted, cradling the stuffed animal and stroking its worn down but still present fluff, and he is finding an unexpected comfort in it, too.

Sokka also understands how much the turtleduck means to Zuko, or he understands as well as he ever can, and therefore how much it means for him to trust it to Sokka.

The importance of this gesture is not lost, and the gravity of the situation between them grows heavier for it.

But it is not heavy like a burden. It is heavy like a weighted blanket, wrapping them both.

Sokka is lying on his side, his arms crossed pinning the turtleduck to his chest, and Sokka is being held close to Zuko’s chest, his forehead pressing into Zuko’s collarbone.

This is yet so strange. This is just so right.

Zuko doesn’t get how the hell Sokka would want to risk having his heart torn out again and blaming himself for it like he did with Yue. Zuko doesn’t get how the hell Sokka could ever want to engage with someone as broken as he is after going through that.

Sokka doesn’t get how the hell Zuko could risk trusting his heart to such a failure, how he isn’t running right now. Sokka doesn’t get how the hell Zuko isn’t taking Yue’s story as a cautionary tale, how he could ever believe Sokka won’t let him down like he did with her.

They are both convinced they are going to destroy the other. But they silently agree it’s worth the chance, and that the only way to find out is together.

They don’t speak for a while. They lie together, finding solace in each other’s touch. Harsh breaths, shaky hands, sore eyes—all shared.

The connection they just made…

This matters.

***

Sokka is a caretaker. He puts so much responsibility for others on himself, and he doesn’t give himself a break at all.

Zuko is determined to take care of Sokka.

Tea is a good place to start. Dinner is helpful, too. Sokka likes to cook, but so does Zuko.

Sokka still finds it interesting how comfortable Zuko is around fire, how he takes to it almost like a goddamn moth.

He gets way too close to the stove burner for Sokka’s comfort, carefully monitoring the heat level with his face practically directly in it. It makes Sokka cringe, and it’s a perfectionism Sokka knows is not at all necessary.

He’s literally just boiling noodles at the moment, nothing that demands such attention to detail, but having the smallest of childhood mistakes punished as harshly as they were, it’s hardly a surprise.

They’re still at Sokka’s apartment, and Zuko has been keeping Iroh updated so he doesn’t worry.

He expects Iroh when his phone vibrates on the counter, but he laughs at the message he gets instead.

Mai: HEY ZUKO DO YOU REMEMBER 1816 as the year without a summer???

Mai: Because I will sure as hell never forget!

Zuko: Grain couldn’t ripen under these conditions, no.

Zuko: Thursday October Christian is a great rebel and I am exaggerating only very slightly.

Zuko: There’s no fun to a draconian crackdown.

Zuko: Hey ey oh ey ey hey ey ey ey hey ey oh ey ey the infidel is me.

Mai: So she’s made YOU listen to this album 8000 times too?

Zuko: She -made me- once. The other 7,999 times were by choice.

Mai: Ha. Funny. I laughed.

Zuko: Ty Lee getting obsessive about her next project?

Mai: What gave it away?

Mai: Just wanted to warn you if you’re still at your boyfriend’s. Suki is enjoying this too much.

Zuko: I think we’ll be fine. Thank you for your consideration.

Mai: Suit yourself.

And it isn’t long after that Suki comes home humming Rasputina songs to herself, particularly “1816, the Year Without a Summer” much to Zuko’s amusement.

Another interesting note from this conversation with Mai is the fact Sokka has to actively look away to not accidentally eavesdrop on Zuko’s messages, as the larger text means it’s impossible to miss.

Suki’s hips sway in time to her humming as she walks into the kitchen, and she spins herself around on her way to open the refrigerator.

“I see now you have Ty Lee and Jin to give you lessons,” Sokka laughs.

“Hey, I’ve only gone on, like, two dates with Jin,” Suki sticks out her tongue. “But also yeah. Anyway, surprised to see you here. I was starting to think you’d moved without telling me.”

“Hey now! I would totally tell you if I’d moved out without telling you. That’s just rude.”

Zuko laughs, and Suki seems fairly surprised to see it, herself.

She nudges Sokka and smiles at him in turn, and he smiles and nods genuinely back at her.

***

“Your dad wants us over for, I’m sorry, ice cream and tea?”

Zuko holds his phone up to Sokka so he can read Iroh’s text clear as day.

“Okay, yeah, he really said that. That’s a, umm, an interesting combination.”

“Tea goes with everything,” Zuko chuckes. “Literally. If he ever invites you over for anything, just add the ‘and tea’ in your head even if he didn’t say it himself. Believe me, if he doesn’t mention it, it’s implied.”

“I mean, I wasn’t saying no, but…”

“Welcome to my life. It’s all tea.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad.”

“No.” Zuko grins. “It isn’t.”

***

Sokka understands the turtleduck.

Zuko lays on his back next to him, Sokka yet staying to his right, holding the turtleduck on his chest while Sokka pets its shell.

This closeness is incredible.

They don’t need to speak. There are no expectations. Silently they enjoy each other’s company.

They go for drives. Long drives. Zuko loads up on antiemetics for the prolonged time in a moving vehicle, but he never complains. He loves this time with Sokka. They drive out to the countryside and sit under the stars.

Sokka has a deep sadness in his eyes whenever he looks up at the moon. Zuko just holds his hand whenever he catches it.

He needs Sokka to know he doesn’t believe anything about what happened to Yue is his fault. He needs Sokka to understand, revealing it only made Zuko more willing to trust putting his heart in his hands.

Sokka holds Zuko through his nightmares, kisses his forehead and his cheeks and whispers to him that he’s there and he’s got him to help him get back to sleep.

In waking, all Zuko wants to do is make it up to him. He shows Sokka his favorite places around the city, tries his hardest to adequately pass on Iroh’s wisdom, keeps Sokka close.

Zuko shares the turtleduck.

Their bond becomes unbreakable.

Chapter Text

Zuko has not had a haircut in ten years.

It all had to come off after he was burned, making his wound easier to clean and care for and then monitor. (If only the side shave undercut trend had reached him by that point, maybe he’d have been able to talk Iroh into a compromise.)

Iroh didn’t let him start growing it out again until three years after and only because a doctor explicitly stated it wouldn’t cause any problems, although Zuko had thought it would go without saying by that point, after Zuko had finally directly asked.

So his last haircut occurred at the age of sixteen, just before that appointment, and he has not allowed scissors or razors anywhere near his hair ever since.

And Sokka adores it, loves touching it, and Zuko just closes his eyes and sighs contentedly whenever he does.

He could fall asleep like this. Hell, sometimes that is what happens.

Zuko’s hair is not quite as long as it could be, as the unfortunate spans of time without a shower during depressive spirals often means intense breakage once he does get some conditioner and a hairbrush through it again. As it stands, though, it reaches about halfway down his back, and Sokka constantly wants to stroke through every inch of it.

Sokka has also noticed a remarkable change in Zuko’s behavior when they lie in bed together.

Sometimes, Zuko will lie on his right side.

He certainly still prefers to leave his right ear exposed but initially this was not an option. Even in his sleep, he would shift harshly and immediately the second his right side touched his pillow if that happened. And Zuko tosses and turns in his sleep more than Sokka knew any one person could, but he has seen several times now Zuko turning onto his right and no longer automatically jumping out of his skin to readjust.

They’ve been officially together for over a month.

There is now a jar in Sokka’s living room that Suki has to put whatever loose change she has into every time she uses the word “U-Haul” around them.

“Give it a year and we’ll be able to afford to actually get a house with that U-Haul,” Sokka joked when Zuko first saw it.

“Oh no, it’s not U-Hauling if it takes you a whole ass year,” Suki retorted. “Jesus, who has that much time to wait? Men, god.”

Sokka threw a pillow at her. She easily caught it in her hand and threw it back. She got Sokka square in the face.

Sokka scowled but he couldn’t keep a straight face with Zuko laughing as hard as he was.

Sokka loves that face. He is amazed he can so often be responsible for it.

***

“‘Nothing. Just because I feel rotten and blue, I suppose.’” Zuko as Edmund says a little too honestly.

Their set is currently a porch. Zuko sits on a crate that will soon be a rocking chair. She sits in the chair for this scene Sokka has already completed, and he’s a bit bitter she didn’t take the crate for the time being and save that chair for Zuko.

Sela as Mary responds. “‘Tell me the truth. Why are you so suspicious all of a sudden?’”

“‘I’m not!’”

“‘Oh, yes you are. I can feel it. Your father and Jamie, too—particularly Jamie.’”

“‘Now don’t start imagining things, Mama.’”

“‘It makes it so much harder, living in this atmosphere of constant suspicion, knowing everyone is spying on me, and none of you believe in me, or trust me.’”

Zuko looks sad. Genuinely sad. Even for as well as he submerges himself into character, fighting with his on-stage mother is hard for him.

“‘That’s crazy, Mama. We do trust you.’”

He misses his own. Edmund isn’t doing well but Mary needs help, and it doesn’t seem to matter right now how much different this is from what really happened to Zuko’s mom. Zuko is channeling himself.

Sela signs, Mary frustrated and broken in her own right. “‘If there was only some place I could go to get away for a day, or even an afternoon, some woman friend I could talk to—not about anything serious, simply laugh and gossip and forget for a while—someone besides the servants—that stupid Cathleen!’”

Zuko stands, as the script tells him to. His knees buckle a little with the sudden motion, and Sela definitely notices and almost breaks character but Zuko keeps on moving like everything is just peachy. They’re all acting more with their bodies now, putting more practice into what it will all actually look like.

He puts his arm around Sela, and only Sokka sees the twitch in his fingertips. “‘Stop it, Mama. You’re getting yourself all worked up over nothing.’”

Sokka watches intently while he takes his lunch break off to the side of the stage. No one questions him staying where he can see everything. He and Zuko have not been subtle.

He has a sandwich in one hand and a pencil in the other. He has two sketchbooks open. In one, he has the schematics for the furniture he’s working on and exactly where and how they will fit into the precise dimensions and grid layout he’s marked out of the stage. In the other, he is shading the shadows cast along Zuko’s shoulders under the normal room lighting.

And he has fast reflexes and deft hands, so he can swap the books if anyone walks by.

But god, the way Zuko shines in front of him…

Whenever he takes color to these portraits in private later, he always surrounds Zuko in bright oranges and yellows and reds.

His first love was, in the end, the moon. It makes sense somehow now, to be so enamored by the sun.

He thrives where Icarus fell.

***

Zuko rests his head in Sokka’s lap. Sokka is sitting up, legs crossed, supporting himself by his arms with his hands braced in the sand.

They don’t even know where they are. They just got in the car and drove. They stopped when they realized they’d reached a beach. And now that’s where they curl into each other.

GPS will take them home, but chance alone along the road led them here.

This is a whirlwind. Zuko doesn’t sleep much anyway, plagued by insomnia since he was a child, so he doesn’t mind these constant late night adventures. Sokka is restless and brimming with wanderlust, and he doesn’t sleep nearly as well as he used to and struggles to keep still when the long nights hit him. They are well matched.

There’s a new burn on Zuko’s forearm. He doesn’t mention it, and Sokka’s afraid to ask if he thought about it before he didn’t bother to hide it. He’s pretty sure he’d be much more hurt by it if he had hidden it, but he still hates to see it. Sokka doesn’t bring it up, either, not with words, but Zuko gasps when Sokka rubs against it without thinking, and he jolts upright and buries his head into Sokka’s neck and longs to cry.

It was accidentally on purpose. He did it intentionally without meaning to. He wasn’t going to insult Sokka by covering it, but he didn’t want to say anything about it, either.

He is filled with shame and recoils when Sokka sighs.

Instinct kicks in. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, his body reacts. He did something upsetting and now he’s been caught and there’s a price to be paid. He moves back and tenses, hanging his head, anxiously awaiting his punishment.

Sokka figures out what Zuko’s doing and breaks. “Oh god, no, Zuko…”

Zuko is disgusted at himself for forcing Sokka to worry about him like this when he’s the one who was hurt, when he has every right to react negatively to Zuko’s actions, and Zuko is sure he’s the one who should be comforting Sokka instead of unintentionally manipulating him to evade consequences.

Sokka cannot be by the water any longer.

The drive home is slow and tense, but Sokka still comes upstairs and follows Zuko to his room. Sokka still stays.

And for the first time in years, Zuko cries without a story on a screen helping him along.

He apologizes through tears, promises he’s trying (because he is, fuck, he really is), covering his mouth with his hands. He does not cry long and he does not cry hard, he barely scratches the surface, but to do it at all is a miracle.

Sokka strokes his hair.

In the morning, Zuko makes breakfast for Sokka before he wakes up. He goes all out. French toast, bacon, eggs, hash browns. Black coffee and excessively sweetened English breakfast tea. His back is sore and his hands are numb after all that work, but he is fucking delighted by the look on Sokka’s face when he sees it. Domesticity suits them.

Sokka was never angry, he’s not sure Zuko understands that. He wants Zuko to understand but hasn’t figured out quite how to articulate it, himself. There are feelings here he cannot adequately name. It’s hard to express everything that’s exploding out of him.

How high he’s flying, he probably should have at least brought sunscreen, but his wings remain intact.

Natural lights bleeds in through the window, surrounding Zuko like a halo. Sokka may be burning inside but that fire is life.

Daedalus need not mourn in this version.

RIP to Icarus but I’m different.

Chapter Text

Sokka and Katara’s dad is in town.

Therefore, for the first time in two months, Zuko is spending a night without Sokka.

Instead he spends it with Toph, who endlessly teases him about how badly he’s neglected his poor baby sister since he and Sokka got serious, and after a long night of deliberation they end up deciding to watch Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 2 together.

They’re cuddling on the couch as they usually do whenever they hold their sibling bonding movie nights, although Toph has sworn Zuko to secrecy about her ability to cuddle with anyone ever.

Iroh is asleep, so it’s just the two of them. Appa is on the couch, too, guarding Zuko’s left. Toph knows Appa’s choice of seating means Zuko is doing worse than he’s letting on, but she hates being pushed about her emotions and so she extends him the same courtesy she expects from others.

She also knows this movie makes them both cry and she doesn’t think he even realized just how hard he was pushing for it, but if he needs it then he needs it (and honestly, maybe she actually does need it a little, too).

Zuko sometimes wonders what happened to his birth sister. He’s not willing to look for her, and he would never in a million years reach out to her, but he wonders if things were different for her after he ran away.

Ozai never touched Azula, but she saw everything. Zuko and Azula were always pitted against each other and Azula always came out on top, and the excuses Ozai made for his abuse would often come down to “I want you to be more like your sister.” She was stronger, smarter, more talented, generally better. And she loved to remind Zuko of that, too, constantly taunting that he’d never catch up to her.

And she would watch Zuko get the shit beaten out of him and she would laugh. She would repeat the lines Ozai told him. Even as a child, her laugh and her words would follow Ozai’s in Zuko’s nightmares. Hell, he can still see the pleased smile she was wearing just before Ozai first pushed him towards the fireplace that night. He has no idea if her face changed at any point, but at least at first she looked happy to see Zuko get hurt. But he knows Azula was treated so differently because Zuko was a worthless fuckup and Azula was perfect.

Maybe she’s got a crushing case of Gifted Kid Burnout. But if she does, at least she ever got to be a gifted kid. Unlike Zuko, who relates to every fucking former gifted kid meme out there but he always fell behind, he never actually got the satisfaction of excelling enough in his youth to apparently be allowed to burn out from it as an adult.

But he has to wonder if she ever slipped up as she got older, and how it was punished if she did. He has to wonder if the expectations Ozai had for Azula changed without Zuko, if he would raise the bar now that the second and last of his human punching bags were gone. He wonders if Azula ever figured out that Ozai’s parenting wasn’t normal, that he was cruel and wrong, that Zuko might not have actually deserved any of that and their mother definitely didn’t. Sometimes it bothers him he’ll never know for sure, and that it isn’t worth the risk to try to find out.

(And she has never reached out to him, so…)

So yes, the scene on Ego where Nebula lashes out at Gamora about how all she ever wanted throughout all their forced fights was a sister, and how that made it hurt so much more that Gamora always had to win, typically makes Zuko cry. And yes, he is also rather ashamed of that and will therefore never watch this movie with anyone except for his actual sister.

Appa’s head moves onto Zuko’s leg when tears start to fall, and Toph squeezes his arm.

“They found each other in the end,” Toph whispers. “And hey, they’re adopted, too, right? So they’re way more like us, anyway, you know, after they get their shit together and stop trying to kill each other.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

He isn’t sure what he fears more, that Ozai did go on to break Azula once it was just the two of them left, or if their dynamic stayed the same and that means Zuko really was the piece of shit Ozai made him out to be and Azula really was the golden child he would never compare to and that proves Ozai’s justifications correct.

That’s a lie, though. He knows the former scares him more. He’d rather be that piece of shit than imagine Azula went through anything like he did later. She was cruel to him, too, but he doesn’t wish that on her. He is also sure that part must be at least partially accurate whether Azula suffered later or not, so how much does it matter. (Dr. Shyu’s voice rings in the back of his head but he doesn’t indulge it right now. He doesn’t care his mother was innocent, he can’t be. He just can’t. There doesn’t have to be logic.)

(Sokka’s voice follows in his mind. But he wasn’t lying when he told Sokka he doesn’t blame himself like he used to. He used to flat out believe he deserved everything about all of it, to the point he would defend Ozai for what he did to him. He doesn’t do that anymore. It’s improved by leaps and bounds. But when he stops and compares himself to Azula, which he tries his damnedest not to but often still can’t help even after all these years, it gets harder to tell himself he isn’t at fault in some ways.)

“I love you, Zuko,” Toph reminds him. She’s soft with him sometimes, in moments like these. No one but Zuko and Iroh gets to see soft Toph. It’s nice when it comes out, the gentle side she prefers to pretend she doesn’t have. That’s leftover from being treated like a fucking wilting flower who was too fragile to breathe outside air with her bioparents, and the fact her real family gets it is the ultimate show of love and trust.

“I love you, too,” Zuko says after a sniffle and pulls her closer.

And they are both going to bawl when Yondu tells Peter, “He may have been your father, boy, but he wasn’t your daddy.” So they might as well get as close and comfy as they can now.

(The only thing worse is when they watch Lilo and Stitch, and sometimes even that doesn’t hit as hard as this does.)

Zuko also doesn’t mention Sokka had invited him to dinner tonight, and might honestly have been a little hurt he declined. He said Katara was bringing Aang, so it would only have made sense for Sokka to also bring Zuko.

But he just…couldn’t. He can’t explain why, either. It can’t possibly be the fear of meeting a father figure for the first time, because it would be ridiculous to always be afraid thanks to the one he was initially assigned, it would be ridiculous to continue to be afraid of everyone’s fathers and see them all as guilty until proven innocent. But that’s exactly the problem, and the only reason he can’t explain it is because he can’t stand the thought of saying it out loud.

***

Zuko wakes up in the middle of the night thrashing and pounding on the wall next to his bed. It’s evidently been too long since he’s slept alone, and he isn’t handling it well.

But Iroh is there for him, most likely having been woken up by all the noise coming from the wall they share. Zuko’s heart is racing and he is hyperventilating, and Iroh holds him and calms him. He is twenty-six years old and occasionally still needs his dad to rock him back to sleep.

“You are safe now, my son. I’ve got you.”

But he has a dad. A great dad. A real dad.

He knows they exist. He knows how amazing they can be when they do.

***

As soon as Zuko wakes in the morning, he texts Sokka. He suggests bringing his dad to the Jasmine Dragon.

After, of course, another failed search for his mother. He knows it’s pointless, but he has to.

Sokka: Hell yeah. I missed you last night.

Zuko: I missed you too. I owe you a boba.

Sokka: Know what. I’m not gonna argue this time.

Sokka: Fellas is it gay to want to kiss your boyfriend? (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞

Zuko: Sorry I

Zuko: I just

Zuko: I’ve never been introduced to anyone’s parents before.

Sokka: It’s no big deal. I met YOUR dad.

Zuko: Oh. Yeah. I guess you did.

Sokka: It’s all good. See you soon. 😘

“Zuko, you are such a fucking idiot,” he mumbles to himself.

Sokka’s met his dad.

Sokka’s met his dad.

He’s got to get his head out of his ass.

He’s going to ignore his feelings as a potentially valid trauma response and instead keep telling himself to get his head out of his ass.

***

Sokka would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed when Zuko didn’t join him for dinner.

And he assumes everyone else at the dinner would be lying if they said they weren’t sick of hearing all about his missing boyfriend about five minutes into it.

Sokka didn’t even consider until Zuko texted him this morning that he might have been scared. And that Sokka knowing Iroh isn’t and never will be and can’t be the same as Zuko meeting Hakoda.

He doesn’t share this with his father, of course. It isn’t his place to talk about, so he keeps his suspicions and their explanation to himself. But he knows how Hakoda would react to finding out how Zuko was treated as a child. He knows how angry he would be about it, and how protective of Zuko it would make him.

Zuko will just have to learn that. That he will have a place with Sokka’s family.

***

It helps that Zuko’s working today.

It helps that he can’t focus completely on meeting Sokka’s dad and that he will be distracted from them and he will have to follow those distractions as they come.

It helps for Zuko, but it frustrates the living hell out of Sokka.

Suki: it *is* his literal job

Suki: you’ll be fine

Sokka: I’m sure you’re right.

Sokka: But.

Sokka: But what if.

Sokka: What if NOT fine.

Sokka: 🥺🥺🥺

Suki: sokka

Suki: SOKKA

Suki: stop texting like a bottom

Suki: srsly who even are you right now

Sokka: …

Zuko looks exhausted. Sokka wonders if he had many nightmares.

His face lights up when he sees Sokka, though.

He waves from the back when he spots him, cleaning some equipment while Iroh runs the front.

It’s a high pain day, so Iroh is giving him as much to do that doesn’t involve having to deal with the public as possible. This work can be a little more physically demanding, but not having to hide pain faces and being allowed to take his time like he can’t when dealing directly with customers more than makes up for it.

Iroh is drastically better with his fellow humans, anyway. Somehow he consistently manages to make them totally okay with their orders running behind, effortlessly charming every single person he has ever met in his life.

“Leaf me alone, I’m bushed!” Zuko hears Iroh tell Sokka the punchline to his favorite tea joke, and everyone at the counter is laughing, too.

Zuko has no fucking idea where he got his social skills (or lack thereof), but it sure as hell wasn’t Iroh and he would give anything to learn how to behave anything like that without it taking everything out of him.

Iroh gestures towards him, so Zuko pops out to greet Sokka.

Zuko has heard almost nothing about the man next to Sokka who he looks eerily like, but Sokka looks so happy to be with him now.

“You must be Zuko!” the man stands and greets him jubilantly. “I’m Hakoda.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” Hakoda notices, past the overly formal words, that Zuko can’t meet his eyes, and how he hesitates to accept the handshake he’s offered. And he notices that Zuko’s hand shakes all its own before the two of them shake hands, that there’s an anxiety present and not a lack of manners.

“Please,” Hakoda smiles. “Just call me Hakoda.”

“Yes, sir. I mean. Umm. I’m sorry.”

Hakoda looks at Zuko, then at Sokka, then at Iroh, then back at Zuko. Three sets of eyes just silently informed him this is a very serious interaction which requires an unexpected amount of compassion.

Hakoda can work with that.

“It’s no problem,” he says carefully. “It’s nothing to worry about. So, my son tells me you’re an actor…”

They exchange a few stories. Zuko repeats some details of his past roles Sokka’s already heard about for Hakoda’s sake, and somewhere in the mix Sokka explains he builds everything on the sets he works on himself just because he likes the building and his work is good enough that he learned theatres will want it so he might as well. Hakoda points out how nice it is for both Sokka and Zuko to put so much of themselves into the theatre and how all of their projects intersect, how they must make an interesting pair. And Iroh loves that part of the conversation.

At some point Sokka has reached out for Zuko’s hand, rubbing his thumb along Zuko’s skin in small circles with the rest of their fingers laced together, raptly watching as Zuko tries so fucking hard to get comfortable speaking with Hakoda.

His eyes keep darting around for orders to take, but Iroh is on top of it. Every time.

The morning rush is over, and the after lunch crowd hasn’t started pouring in yet, and god knows Iroh can handle it all by himself anyway. And Zuko feels terrible looking for an out, but…

But Zuko was banking on the excuses. Sokka, on the other hand, is thrilled by the twist of Zuko not getting them.

Hakoda is very animated and vibrant, and he comes off as every bit as kind and genuine as Sokka. He gives off strong Iroh vibes, and he and Iroh are strongly vibing. Zuko understands he has nothing to fear.

But it’s so fucking hard not to.

Sokka’s pretty sure at this point he’s going to have to tell Hakoda something, just however vague he can make it, but he does notice Zuko isn’t masking. That has to mean something. That seems hopeful.

Sokka follows Zuko outside when he asks for a smoke break, not even trying to come up with another excuse like he usually does, which Iroh is never happy to give him but won’t deny.

And the first thing Zuko does is push Sokka into the side of the building and kiss him.

Sokka smiles against his lips and pulls him into his arms.

“You’re doing great, babe,” he tells Zuko, who allows himself to melt into the affection. “You’re okay. I promise.”

Zuko is grateful he doesn’t need to explain himself. Sokka just accepts this, just lets Zuko potentially insult the father he clearly loves with his fear, and then comforts him for it. Zuko’s weakness is not punished, not by Sokka or Hakoda.

“You’re okay,” Sokka repeats and he knows Zuko can’t believe him but he won’t let that stop him from trying to help.

And now Zuko’s got to warn Toph, they are definitely in need of a Lilo and Stitch night.

Chapter Text

Sokka always hates to say goodbye to his dad, but he knows he can’t stay forever. Gran Gran is getting old and her health isn’t the best these days, and Hakoda takes care of her now. Just as Sokka and Katara once lived with her, now she lives with Hakoda. And they’d love to see her, too, but she’s never been much for travelling in the first place and she is thoroughly not up for it at all anymore.

Zuko is coming with them for lunch with Katara and Aang, and then to take Hakoda to the airport. But right now, it’s just the two of them.

Katara, alas, still holds some resentment towards him for leaving the way he did after their mom died. But Sokka understood. He’s their father, yes, but he’s still human, and at least Bato was able to catch him when he started to spiral. It may well have saved his life, and Sokka would much rather have a father across the globe than two dead parents. They joined the Peace Corps together, and then the Red Cross. It was partially to escape, but also partially to make himself feel like he was doing good in the world, like he was helping people, after he hadn’t been there when his wife died and his daughter nearly did, too.

Sokka has always been grateful to Bato for that. Even Katara feels that way, and both siblings were ecstatic when what had been the closeness between best friends back home morphed into a romantic partnership while they were overseas. The wedding when they returned was beautiful.

And it isn’t like they were alone. Kanna is a wonderful grandmother and was a fantastic caretaker, and she did a genuinely great job of raising them for the few years they had without Hakoda before they then left, too. And Sokka supposes that might be part of where he gets his own restless wanderlust from. He and his father always have been so very alike, so it’s not shocking that Hakoda once travelled the world in search of purpose, as Sokka has longed to travel the world to satisfy some deep urge he can’t place but must appease.

So Katara is working on reconciling her complicated feelings and how they affect her relationship with her father, but Sokka has never needed to. Therefore Hakoda stayed with Sokka and Suki during this visit rather than Katara and Aang (and Sokka was never going to let him stay in a hotel), and they are having breakfast together in Sokka’s kitchen.

“Zuko’s afraid of me, isn’t he,” Hakoda doesn’t ask but bluntly states, full of concern.

“Probably, yeah,” Sokka shrugs. “He didn’t tell me, but. I guess it’s pretty obvious.”

Sokka still hasn’t figured out what he’s going to say, but there’s sure as hell no point in lying about it when Hakoda is directly addressing the painfully blatant.

“About Iroh… Sokka, has he…”

“Oh no, no, god no,” Sokka jumps to Iroh’s defense. It makes sense Hakoda would wonder if there was more to him than he’s seen, but he needs to know right the fuck away that Iroh is not to blame here, even if he can’t elaborate enough to explain it’s the complete opposite, that Iroh fucking saved Zuko.

“No, Dad, don’t worry about him. He was totally authentic with you. Iroh is legit amazing.”

“Should I be jealous?” Hakoda laughs, and Sokka sticks out his tongue.

“No, but I… Iroh’s just really great, is all. He’s the father Zuko deserves. Just, like I said, you don’t need to worry about him.”

Hakoda has a lot more questions, but he doesn’t ask them. He can already tell Sokka’s not going to answer, judging by how little he gave away just now, and Hakoda’s glad to see his son keep his partner’s past close to his chest. Sokka’s sad eyes say much: they admit Sokka does hold the secrets he’s not sharing, and he can see within that what a caring partner Sokka is to Zuko.

Of course he’s also heard about how Sokka’s relationship with Yue went down, so he realizes this is simply how Sokka is. But it’s different to see it firsthand. He is proud of his son.

“Just please don’t take it personally if he’s weird around you,” Sokka says. “I can tell he’s trying really hard. But he’s not being a jerk or anything, and it’s not you. It’s a lot, but…”

“Patience and compassion,” Hakoda interjects. “I can handle that. That’s what parents do.”

“Yeah. Just go with that. Maybe don’t say that part out loud, though. Or maybe do. I’m not sure, actually. But yeah, that. That’s what he needs.”

Sokka was sad at first that Bato didn’t come along on this trip, but maybe it’s for the best that Zuko starts getting used to his dad before he gets to engage with his dad and his step-dad together. That’s a lot of dads all at once. One step at a time, easing into it.

There’s a glimmer in Sokka’s eyes that hasn’t been there in years. The way his smile consistently spreads across his whole face when he’s talking about Zuko…

Hakoda grins, taking advantage of the time they have left alone. “Have you told him?”

“Uh, told him what?”

“That you’re in love with him.”

“I…Dad, oh, I…” Sokka clears his throat and takes a large gulp of coffee. “It’s been, like, two months. You don’t say that after two months, do you?”

As he casually pretends to forget he did say it to Yue within two weeks.

“It took your mother and me about a week, and I never regretted it.”

“Oh. Well. Umm. Good to know.”

Sokka doesn’t know how to respond to that. He doesn’t want to admit how much it still scares him, loving again like this. Especially when he is once again loving someone he could so easily lose, and he is yet so terrified of fucking it up.

But by god, he does love him, he has no doubts left about that, and it is interesting Hakoda knew without him having to say it.

And now he’s the second person who knows.

It’s not that Sokka hasn’t thought about saying it. He’s probably over thought it, if anything.

“But you are, aren’t you, Sokka?”

“Fuck yeah, I am. I really am.” But I’m worried telling him makes it too real. But I’m worried he won’t believe me if I say it.

“It’s alright. You’ll figure it out, son.”

***

They have lunch at a Thai restaurant near the airport with an excess of vegan options. Aang is very excited to have protein choices beyond plain tofu (he chooses the soy “chicken,” which even Sokka has to admit looks almost real, and infinitely more appetizing), and everyone is entertained by Zuko’s love of spicy food.

While Sokka is struggling with the panang curry he ordered at a four, Zuko manages to bring himself to ask for a side of bird’s eye chilis when the server returns to refill their drinks, to add to the pad kee mao he got at level ten.

Hakoda also notices that Sokka insists on Zuko sitting on the far left and on the side of the table that puts him against the wall, so everyone else at the table is either on his right or across from him, and the way Sokka positions himself to take up enough room that no one can sit beside him. Hakoda also notices the way Zuko tries to look straight at anyone who’s speaking as well as he can, and that it seems to take him a second longer to process what’s being said when he isn’t watching someone’s mouth move. He makes a note of that, and that his left is his scarred side.

And how big his right eye continues to get whenever Hakoda is talking to him, how he keeps chewing on his bottom lip, the way Sokka gently touches his arm every time.

Dear god, what happened to this poor kid?

Sokka notices, as well, that Zuko is wearing long sleeves. He doesn’t bring it up, and he knows Hakoda wouldn’t have judged Zuko for the state of his arms, but Sokka also knows there is no way Zuko didn’t do it specifically for Hakoda.

Sokka wonders if Zuko had started hurting himself like that when he was still living with Ozai, and if it was punished. And he is pretty sure he doesn’t want to know the answer to either question because in reality he almost definitely already knows the answer to both.

Aang is damn near overusing Hakoda’s name when addressing him and it throws off the rhythm of much of what he says, but he’s only doing it because Sokka asked him to. He was hoping maybe Zuko hearing one of Hakoda’s children’s boyfriends saying his name enough times would help Zuko do it. He just keeps calling him “sir,” though. Zuko, himself, feels weird enough not referring to him only as “Mr. Emeq,” so it’s not as bad as it could be.

Zuko is also eating far less than everyone else, amping up the heat level but at the same time doing more anxious picking at his food than anything else.

And Zuko is the only one to leave with leftovers.

As they depart from the restaurant, both Katara and Aang say goodbye with long, tight hugs. Hakoda slips a look towards Zuko when Aang hugs him, as if to say this is welcome and encouraged. Zuko nods uncomfortably. They do not touch.

Sokka and Hakoda share their lengthy bear hugs at the airport, whispering how much they love each other and how much they’ll miss each other.

And Zuko almost feels like he could cry. He is so bitter right now, and he hates that he’s reacting like this. He has Iroh, he knows he has Iroh and this is exactly what it would look like if Iroh and Zuko were exchanging these goodbyes, but Sokka was born with this father and Zuko can’t believe that he almost can believe in this moment it’s somehow possible for one’s birth father to be so nice and never hurt his kids.

Hakoda smiles at Zuko and leaves his body open, making himself inviting, giving him the option.

And instead of hugging, Zuko bows.

And Hakoda can’t fucking take it anymore.

He wraps his arms around Zuko, who freezes at first but doesn’t pull away, and then he nervously lets himself lean into it.

Hakoda tells Zuko how great it was to spend this time with him, how much he looks forward to seeing him again next time he visits, how Zuko is always welcome with Sokka to visit him, and how happy he can see Sokka is with him.

Sokka, for his part, clenches his teeth and stares at the ground in embarrassment, but he doesn’t intervene.

Sokka takes Zuko’s hand once they’re alone, and when they get back into Sokka’s car, Zuko sobs.

Chapter Text

Iroh doesn’t have a lot of rules. His kids are both in their twenties, they are both full grown adults, he’s not going to give them curfews or ground them anymore. He is happy to have them stay with him and he will always care for them however they need, and he does worry about them and he always wants to make sure they’re safe, and they will always be his children, but he won’t treat his twenty-six year old and his twenty-two year old like actual children.

But there is one critical rule in Iroh’s home: there is to be no talk of Ozai or of the Beifongs, ever.

Ever.

So when everyone, including Sokka, is sitting together sharing homemade brownies courtesy Iroh in the living room and a commercial for the nightly news comes on and teases a story about the Beifongs lending their personal and financial support to the latest planned Comet Industries projects of creating military grade vehicles and armor and delving into civilian space travel, Iroh turns off the television.

Unfortunately, the headline was more than enough, and Zuko just shrinks into the couch as Toph starts yelling.

“Motherfuckers!” she shouts at the black screen and punches the coffee table. “Goddammit, now all the fucking greatest evils of the world are working together! Fucking fantastic! Zuko, look at that, we are truly bonded forever as the forgotten children of the fucking evil empire!”

Zuko doesn’t even understand why Toph is so mad. Both parties are awful, no one makes the money they have ethically so that would be obvious even if they hadn’t lived what they did, but they’ve both known their whole lives these people are abusive bastards and they’ve each been out of it for a decade or more. It’s just billionaires working with billionaires, one percenters sticking together. Zuko doesn’t get why it should matter to her so much. All he does know is that her anger is freaking him out and it’s bad enough Appa is moving to sit on him.

Not that he is particularly happy to hear about their biofams collaborating, and it’s not great knowing two such high profile names working together undoubtedly means this is going to stay at the front of the news for too damn long and be impossible to avoid completely, but…

Appa puts his paws on Zuko’s shoulders, applying pressure. Panic protocol.

Because Toph is breaking Iroh’s second important rule: no yelling.

Yelling doesn’t help, it only makes any given situation worse. If he or his kids feel the need to yell, they are to step back until they can address their issue calmly and have a reasonable conversation about it. It is preferred here to go to bed angry rather than unnecessarily exacerbate an argument.

And yelling triggers the hell out of Zuko, making for another reason to avoid it at all costs.

“Toph,” Iroh takes her by the shoulders, gently holding her in place while trying to ground her. “There is no point getting angry now. What these people do does not affect you or your brother any longer. Do not give in to rage. You are free from them. Remember that.”

“I just don’t understand how they could support the piece of shit who did what he did to Zuko,” Toph says mournfully. “I know they’re bad people. I know I left them for good reason. But now they’re basically condoning that. And that’s fucked.”

“Yes, it is,” Iroh nods. “But what they support is not your burden. You are not them, and their choices do not reflect you. You cannot control the decisions other people make. All you are responsible for is what is in your own heart. You have every right to find this news upsetting, but you are only hurting yourself by dwelling on it.”

“Okay.” Toph takes a deep breath and lets Iroh hug her. Appa barks.

“I’m sorry, Zuko,” she turns to him and scratches Appa. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know,” Zuko breathes out, barely audible.

Sokka’s been holding his hand this whole time, but he’s only just now noticing it. He squeezes.

“Hey. Come sit outside with me?” Sokka asks, and Zuko nods.

Zuko manages to get Appa to back down, and then follows Sokka through the slim door along the wall behind the couch.

Zuko sits down on top of the concrete steps the door leads to which serves as a private side entrance and as their fire escape and lights a cigarette, and Sokka sits behind him and wraps his arms around him from his back.

And as he so often does, Zuko plays with his lighter well after he’s started smoking, watching the flame dance in front of him.

He is not afraid of fire. He won’t let himself be.

Fire cannot hurt him any more than it already has. He picked up smoking in his early teens to force the fire inside him, to challenge it to a second chance at killing him, but this time playing the long game. It may not make much sense but few decisions made in an almost manic state of suicidal desperation ever do.

He had decided, however, he was not going to kill himself all at once that day. He decided that was not the day Iroh was going to get that call. He’s never in his life been confident that call won’t come later, but that was the choice Zuko made then.

(Not that he hasn’t since subjected Iroh to similar calls. He has, more than once, but they all resulted in failure anyway, so…)

He controls the fire he flicks around in his fingers, holds in his hands. It won’t hurt him unless he tells it to. And then it will be his decision and his decision only.

“Zuko…” Sokka reaches for the hand Zuko’s lighter is in, guides it down. “Stop that. Please.”

Sokka tries not to sound like he’s telling Zuko what to do, or to patronize. But he can’t stand watching this any longer. Not at the moment, anyway. He knows Zuko will resume this another time and Sokka will deal with it then, but right now he needs it to go away.

Zuko can’t blame him for being uncomfortable. He nods and places the tool in his pocket, and Sokka kisses his neck.

“You wanna go for a drive?” Zuko asks. “I don’t have anything to do until the afternoon tomorrow.”

“Yeah, sure. Anywhere in particular?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

They head back in once Zuko’s done to give Iroh and Toph a heads up they’re going out, and that they’ll be back later tonight.

Sokka doesn’t attempt a destination, just following the road for a while, until he can’t go straight anymore and then going left or right based on nothing, simply relying on whatever whim takes him.

They don’t talk for a little while, and Zuko is the only passenger Sokka has ever welcomed into his vehicle who doesn’t bridge awkward silences by playing with his phone (it’s because he can’t, because motion sickness, but still), so his attention remains entirely Sokka’s for the taking.

In the meantime, a burned copy of White Pony blares from the actual CD player of Sokka’s aux-less dark blue 2004 Hyundai Sonata, loud enough to hear over the wind coming in through the open windows, and it fills the void for a while. Zuko even hums along.

Until they get to track ten and about midway through Zuko leans forward, his hands together, biting his lip.

“Drop these down then put them on me, nice cool seats there to cushion your knees. Now to calm me, take me round again. Don’t pull over, this time won’t you please drive faster?”

Sokka sees Zuko shift, has to make sure he’s holding up alright.

“Zuko? You okay?”

“Move your seat back.”

“What?”

“Move your seat back.”

“Roll the windows down, this cool night air is curious. Let the whole world look in, who cares who sees what tonight? Roll these misty windows down to catch my breath and then go and go and go, just drive me home and back again.”

Sokka has a brief internal debate of if Zuko could possibly be thinking what he thinks he’s thinking, and he’ll be damned if he isn’t going to give himself the chance to find out.

Sokka has learned one thing in everything they’ve done so far, which is that Zuko is thoroughly submissive, and that complements Sokka very, very well, but there is a need in Zuko’s voice here Sokka is not going to protest.

He adjusts his seat to go as far back as he can and still reach the pedals, and Zuko unbuckles his seatbelt and restarts the song.

“Here I lay, still and breathless. Just like always, still I want some more. Mirrors sideways, who cares what’s behind? Just like always, still your passenger.”

Zuko leans over the center console and fumbles with Sokka’s pants, and if Sokka believed in any higher power he would be thanking them for the fact that this is somehow really happening.

“The chrome buttons buckle on leather surfaces.”

(Sokka loves his cloth interior, thanks very much, but that’s beside the point.)

Zuko is able to spring Sokka just free enough to plunge himself downwards and take him into his mouth, and Sokka nearly veers off the fucking bridge they’re crossing when it starts.

“Zuko… Zuko, fuck, I’m gonna drive us off—”

Zuko pulls his head up and locks eyes with Sokka, taking his gaze off of the road for just a split second, and Zuko with complete and utter seriousness says something Sokka did not know could be spoken completely and utterly seriously.

“Yeet.”

“Let the whole world look in, who cares who sees anything? I’m your passenger.”

“Oh my god, oh fuck, oh god, Zuko, fuck…”

Sokka rapidly loses all coherence at the back of Zuko’s throat, doing everything in his power to keep his hips still and not screw up the gas and the brake.

This is ridiculous. This is so fucking dangerous. This is a god awful idea. They should not be doing this. But the sensation of Zuko gagging on his cock, the sound…

Fuck it. Yeet.

They are absolutely stopping at the next open drugstore they pass, though, so they don’t have to take the time to go back to either of their apartments, and he is buying them condoms and lube and then they are pulling over so Sokka can finally properly fuck him in the backseat of this car because this is it, he cannot possibly wait any longer and the feeling appears to be mutual.

“Go and go and go.”

Not that he hasn’t loved the hell out of all the cuddling and comforting that they just haven’t moved much past for no other reason than not wanting that to end in any given moment. He wouldn’t change that. But here, now—yes.

“Here I lay, just like always. Don’t let me go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go.”

The song reaches its climax, and so does Sokka.

“Take me to the edge.”

And thank god they’re far enough outside the city because he doesn’t even try not to swerve off into the open field conveniently to the right, Zuko swallowing him all down, tires tracking dirt and grass as he abandons asphalt and speeds into the abyss barely breathing.

Zuko is just as wrecked and flushed as Sokka when he returns to his seat, and Sokka grabs him by the shirt and pulls him closer (not by the hair, never pull the hair, tempting as it may be), crashing their lips together, gripping Zuko’s bottom lip with his teeth, nails dragging up the skin of Zuko’s back beneath his clothes.

“Fuck… Sokka…”

Sokka gets out his phone, Googles for the nearest twenty-four hour store to meet their needs. Hell, a well enough stocked gas station would suffice.

There is such a gas station not that far. About the only option within a half hour’s drive, but it’s only a few minutes away.

Sokka takes a deep breath, fixes his pants, and moves his seat to where it’s comfortable, and drives.

Zuko doesn’t even get out of the car. Sokka bolts in, finds what he’s looking for, pays, and runs right the hell back out.

And then he just keeps driving, just a little bit further. They’re in the middle of goddamn nowhere, that overpriced gas station the only hint of civilization for miles. They’ve avoided highways, careful to always turn away from them when signs indicate one’s coming up, sticking to back roads, and everything is dark and quiet and it might be creepy but neither of them can care.

They’ve roamed into total nothing, and that’s where they stop the car.

The backseat of this sedan is not large. This is not ideal. It does not matter.

Sokka has Zuko pinned down, nipping at his neck, their hips bucking into each other’s beyond their control.

“Oh fuck, please,” Zuko whimpers under Sokka. “Please, please, please, please…”

This is cramped and awkward and uncomfortable and perfect.

They both have to bend in ways most unnatural, have to keep their bodies as compact as possible while stripping off pants, maneuvering around seatbelt buckles and bumping the front seats while trying to figure out the easiest positions to assume. They don’t take their time. They will have to take their time later.

“You want me, baby?” Sokka whispers against Zuko’s lips, and he fucking whines.

“God, yes. Please. Fuck me.”

Say no more.

He teases with his hands before working him open as quick as he can, and savoring the way Zuko screams when he slips inside.

Sokka isn’t as rough as he wants to be, isn’t as rough as Zuko wants him to be, but this isn’t the time or the place.

“Fuck, look at you,” Sokka praises, and Zuko is living for this. “Fuck, you are perfect. You feel so good. You are so fucking gorgeous.”

Zuko presses his hand to his mouth, bites down hard on his fist to muffle himself, and Sokka doesn’t want to let him but he can hold on to enough rational thought to remember this is semi-public, and while it’s highly unlikely they’ll be caught it isn’t impossible so the less attention they risk drawing to themselves the better. He will concede that. This time.

Sokka comes first, surprising for it being the second time in less than an hour, but that works out to adjust for easier cleanup (okay, so there has become one downside to those beloved cloth seats).

The noise Zuko makes when Sokka pulls out is somehow simultaneously downright unholy and the song of angels, but Sokka ties off his used condom and tosses it aside (he’ll get it later, it’s fine), and then shuffles them both around so Zuko is seated on his fingers with his mouth wrapped around him to finish him off.

Both of them are breathing heavily, grateful for the air coming in through the windows they forgot to close (oops), and they collapse into each other, allowing themselves to rest for a minute despite Zuko’s knowing he is going to pay for these positions with a pain flare tomorrow.

“Fuck, Sokka,” he says, blissful and carefree about it for the time being. “Wow, that was…fuck.”

“Yeah,” Sokka agrees, moving to kiss Zuko more. “That was amazing, babe. You’re amazing, fuck. I love you.”

Sokka realizes what he just said and feels the world come crashing down, clenching his jaw, unmoving, horrified at having been unable to stop himself from ruining everything, begging the universe for this not to mean he’s ruined everything.

Oh fuck. Oh no. Please don’t leave me.

Please don’t leave me.

Zuko closes his eyes, throws caution to the wind. Sokka can’t have said that, he can’t have meant that, now this has gone too far, this is too good to be true, there’s no way but…

“I love you, too.”

Chapter Text

Sokka wears his heart on his sleeve. At least, he does when he’s around Zuko.

So when Zuko says “I love you, too” after his accidental confession, Sokka doesn’t bother trying to stop himself crying.

Zuko is so, so jealous of how easily Sokka cries in front of him, even after Zuko has now cried twice in his presence, which is fucking monumental, but…

Sokka just lets the tears fall, pressing his salt-tinged lips delicately against Zuko’s as they do, grinning ear to ear with wet cheeks.

So this was, apparently, the right answer. As hard as it was not to reply with “no, you don’t” or “you couldn’t possibly” or “I don’t deserve this” or “what the fuck is wrong with you” or…

Sokka looks so happy to hear it back, and Sokka deserves to feel that way. Zuko wants to make Sokka feel that way all the time.

It is his absolute fucking honor to make Sokka smile like this.

Even if he wishes he could be someone else. Someone who could keep Sokka happy. Someone worthy of him.

“Something’s different,” Toph notes loudly as soon as they get back to the apartment, and Sokka just laughs as Zuko ignores his sister and drags him back to his room.

They lock the door behind them and Zuko lies down on his back and Sokka hovers over him on all fours, caging Zuko’s body with his, kissing him feverishly, holding Zuko’s wrists above his head.

Now they can take their time.

Now they can take all the time they need.

Zuko’s hips roll against nothing with every squeeze of Sokka’s hands, every touch of Sokka’s lips, every needy hitch of Sokka’s breath.

This is the one instance in which Zuko is okay with Sokka being such a giver and Zuko being such a taker. Because there’s a difference between being a submissive bottom and being a burden, a difference between being a service top and a disposal area for all of a significant other’s broken pieces.

“I love you,” Sokka repeats between movements. One kiss, one “I love you.” One bite, one “I love you.” Hands released, “I love you.” Shirt removed, “I love you.” Pants removed, “I love you.” Hands reclaimed, “I love you.” One kiss…

But how could he not? This beautiful boy with the big heart, so soft after surviving horrors no one would blame him for being hardened by, so talented and giving and passionate and…

“I love you.”

Deserving. So deserving, and Sokka would do anything to make him believe that.

Two months of seeing him literally every single day and sleeping most nights by his side, of course he’s in love with him.

And Zuko wants to give him the world. After all this time together, there’s no way for him to not be in love with Sokka. To know Sokka is to love him, Zuko sees no way around that. And he has understood this for far longer than he can admit.

He can’t love you back. He might care about you now, but it’s only a matter of time.

“I love you, too, Sokka, I… Fuck…”

It’s just a crush. This isn’t love, it’s limerence. He has to know that on some level. He’ll figure it out eventually. He deserves the best. You do not deserve him.

Zuko cranes his neck to allow Sokka better access to his throat. Sokka shifts so both of Zuko’s wrists are in one hand and he firmly touches the sides of Zuko’s neck with the other, taking in the way he twitches and strains against him, the harsh intake of breath, the tiny “yes” Sokka can barely hear.

No thinking. Only feeling.

If he can be completely overwhelmed by sensation, if he can be completely taken over by Sokka’s touch, maybe his brain could shut off for a little while, maybe he can get a brief break.

Let me just be with you a while. No fear. Only you. While I can. While it lasts.

“So pretty,” Sokka murmurs against Zuko’s right ear. “So good for me.”

I love you, I love you, I love you, I…

Sokka is simultaneously rough and tender, at once he is gentle and harsh.

They’ve discussed what they want. Just because they’ve never gotten too far in before doesn’t mean they’ve never talked about it. Sokka suggests the stop light signalling system for safety, and Zuko agrees. Zuko trusts Sokka to stop or slow down if he needs him to.

So every grip of hands or nails or teeth, every potential bruise or scratch, it is glorious and adored and desperately wanted, and most importantly it is all silently approved.

It is all consuming when Sokka flips Zuko over, pushes him down into the bed face first and holds him there, uses his fingers to ensure he can handle another round. Zuko gasps and whimpers, loving it when Sokka manhandles him, when he lifts him up and forces him onto his back again so he can look at his beautiful face when he enters him.

Zuko is putty in his hands. Nothing else matters.

I love you. You’re perfect.

And all Zuko can feel is Sokka. And all Sokka can feel is Zuko. There is no world outside this room. There is nothing of importance outside their bodies connected. If only this could last forever.

Zuko’s got a hand around himself, eyes squeezed shut, rapidly falling into ecstasy.

“Fuck, Sokka, I’m close, I’m gonna, I’m…”

“Me, too. Fuck, fuck. Come for me, baby. Come on, let me see your face…”

And Zuko can’t resist that, his eyes rolling back into his head as his whole body shudders, the wide “o” of his mouth falling open and the high, needy “oh” that escapes, and that’s all Sokka needs to fall over the edge right with him.

Sokka collapses next to Zuko, taking Zuko’s hand into his own to ride out the comedown together, overstimulated and exhausted and blissed out.

I love you and that’s why I should leave you.

I love you but I am going to destroy you.

I love you and it’s wrong but I’m not strong enough to let you go.

(Whose perspective?)

(Yes.)

Once he can bring himself to move, Zuko grabs a towel from a pile of clean laundry he can’t be bothered to put away and wipes them down, and Sokka throws their second condom into the nearby trash can.

And after this Zuko’s back and hips are already catching up to him from the car, and he grimaces in pain flopping himself back down beside Sokka.

“What hurts?”

Sokka is already recognizing the faces Zuko tries so hard to hide, but the way he’s tensing Zuko is pretty sure muscle spasms are creeping up on him and there’s no concealing that.

Zuko shakes his head, feeling impossibly vulnerable in this weird post-orgasmic headspace of knowing how hard his body is about to betray him.

“It’s okay, Zuko. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Without direction for what needs attention, Sokka turns Zuko to rub his shoulders, so careful and considerate and calming.

Zuko hums under Sokka’s hands, a different kind of intimacy that is no less meaningful.

And intimacy tied to sex is an all new concept to Zuko, and one Sokka hasn’t explored in six years.

Sokka is memorizing every line of Zuko’s body, the cut of his shoulder blades, the arch of his spine, the curve of his hips. His skin is soft and littered with scars, although none nearly as severe as the one on his face, and for the most part it’s hard to tell how many are self-inflicted and how many were done to him by outside hands. Sokka wishes he had the power to promise no one will ever hurt him again.

He kisses the back of his neck, unable to take his hands off of him. Hands which are so delicate, so affectionate. The caress of his fingertips is so fragile it’s frightening. Zuko doesn’t know how to take it, these brushes like a burn and oh, this softness is suffocating.

When the inevitable loss of limb control and motor skills strikes, when Zuko’s nerves and muscles do take their violent revenge, Sokka does not flinch and he does not ease off. He keeps on touching, keeps on soothing, until he just wraps his arms around Zuko’s waist and holds him.

Any composure Zuko had left crumbles, and now for the third time Zuko cries.

“I’m not letting you go,” Sokka swears to him.

“Please, Sokka… Please…” Zuko doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, but he needs this, he needs him, and all he can do is beg for a something he cannot quantify, but it all comes down to Sokka. It’s Sokka. Everything is Sokka, and Sokka is everything.

“I’ve got you, Zuko. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

I love you.

You shouldn’t.

(Yes.)

Chapter Text

Sokka and Katara sit together in her kitchen, with a peach boba and a hot tippy Assam tea between them, respectively, courtesy Zuko, while Zuko…

Zuko is curled up on the living room floor with Momo, with his own jasmine dragon phoenix pearl and rooibos blend getting cold on the coffee table, and they are meowing back and forth at each other.

And Sokka is pretty sure his heart is just going to burst open and he is going to die.

Oh my god, I love him so much.

Sokka pulls out his phone to take a picture, and Zuko immediately sits up and hides his face in his hands.

“Aww, come on,” Sokka whines at him. “I wasn’t going to post it anywhere!”

“That was a very cat move of you, Zuko,” Katara laughs, and Zuko pulls up his knees and keeps trying to hide himself within himself.

Zuko got forcefully trained out of randomly meowing at himself when he was a kid, but when there’s a cat around he has an excuse so it should be okay. But now it doesn’t matter that neither Sokka nor Katara were shaming him for it, he retreats the second attention is drawn to it.

Sokka didn’t tell either Zuko or Katara the reason he decided last minute he wanted to pop in on her. As far as they’re both concerned, it was a random whim. Sokka’s good for those, after all. He didn’t tell either of them it’s because he’d spent all night dreaming of their mother.

Sokka didn’t have to see the body. Hakoda didn’t let him see the body. But he knows Katara did. Katara had no choice.

They’d been on vacation in Seattle. They didn’t do many vacations, but they’d put together the money to do something fun and different and memorable as a family one summer. And while they were there, Sokka insisted on visiting the Gates Foundation Discovery Center and Katara insisted on visiting the Chihuly Garden and Glasshouse, and in both cases the other sibling had no interest so they opted to split up for a day. But leaving the gardens an oversize pickup truck ran a red light and came barrelling towards Katara. She did end up with a few scrapes and bruises from how forcefully she was pushed out of the way, but Kya got to her at the exact last second. Katara was thrown with incredible strength and Kya was killed on impact. The truck driver didn’t stop. It was a hit and run. They never caught the person responsible.

Sokka had sobbed and held his sister so close. He knew there was no way he could make this his fault but he seemed convinced that he had to watch over her at all times after that, that this only happened because they couldn’t have just agreed to stick together, that it was now entirely his responsibility to keep Katara safe. Like he’s convinced he could have saved them both if he’d been there. (And in fairness, if he could have, he undoubtedly would have. Everyone who knows him knows that he would make that same sacrifice without hesitation. His family, however, also knows Kya would never have wanted one of her children to be the one who did that day.)

He doesn’t feel like he needs to say it, though. It’s just good to see Katara, it’s nice to watch her and Zuko and Momo and get to live an almost sort of normal, peaceful moment in their otherwise wildly dysfunctional lives.

Momo rubs himself against Zuko’s legs, walking back and forth and repeatedly brushing up against him, and Zuko hangs his head and keeps one hand over his face as the other carefully scratches Momo’s back as he passes.

Zuko was never allowed to have pets when he was young (probably for the best, in retrospect, not bringing a helpless and innocent animal into the house with Ozai and Azula), but he always felt a kinship with cats. They’re so often misunderstood, too. They are also, for those unwilling to put in the work, very hard to love.

And Zuko gets being hard to love.

And Zuko has always admired how difficult they are to control, how easily they assert boundaries and stand up for themselves and defend themselves.

But ever since they first met, it’s felt like Zuko and Momo understand each other.

Aang rescued Momo off the street. Much like Iroh did for Zuko and Toph.

And it’s interesting how Sokka and that cat have finally begun bonding, as well.

“My brother the golden retriever has joined a cat colony,” Katara chuckles.

“Hey, you’ve seen the moose he lives with,” Sokka teases her back. “It’s not a colony.”

“Nah, my sister is definitely a cat, too,” Zuko smiles. “She’d say honey badger but. I’m voting cat. My dad is absolutely a cat, just the really sweet and snuggly kind. And Appa might be a moose but he’s the cat carer, so. He’s part of the colony, too. So golden retrievers are also welcome to join.”

Sokka smirks awkwardly and Zuko grins and Katara laughs and it’s all very cute and wholesome.

“Or the glaring,” Zuko adds. “A group of cats is also called a glaring.”

“Of course it is. And of course you just know that.” Sokka shakes his head, but dear god does he adore this.

Momo, for his part, starts licking Zuko’s hand, and Zuko mutters, “Oh no.”

“What’s ‘oh no,’ babe?”

“I read that it hurts their feelings if a cat starts licking you and you make them stop. You have to wait for them to be done on their own. So I might be stuck here a while.”

“It hurts their feelings? Seriously?”

“You heard the man, Sokka.”

And as far as Sokka’s concerned, this is the sweetest thing in all the world, and who is he to get in the way?

***

Sokka and Toph take a walk while Zuko works.

Or, more accurately, Toph pretty much drags Sokka out of the Jasmine Dragon and demands they go out and get to know each other a little better since Zuko’s supposed to be busy anyway.

“So. What are your intentions with my brother?”

“My intentions? What year is it? Did we just drop into a regency novel and no one told me?”

“Appa! Yip, yip!” Toph shouts (a command so obviously originated by Aang) when the crosswalk starts chirping to alert pedestrians it’s safe to go. Sokka doesn’t even know where they’re going, if they’re actually going anywhere.

“Listen, bro.” Toph should not be this intimidating. Sokka knows she knows kung fu but Jesus, she seriously has a way of making Sokka fear for his life and he’s not even sure it’s related. “Do you have any fucking idea what Zuko’s been through?”

“Yeah, actually, I do. He told me, umm…he told me about the scar and everything. And I would never hurt him like that. I promise.”

“I don’t want to hear you won’t hurt him ‘like that.’ That’s, like, the bare fucking minimum. Less than the bare minimum, seriously, what the hell. If you couldn’t promise at least that I would kill you where you stand. No, I want to hear you won’t hurt him at all.”

“Toph. I…”

The Yue of his dreams and waking nightmares taunts him about being unable to protect her. Words she never explicitly said, but what her actions told him far louder and his own mind has been more than eager to fill in for her over the years. He can hear it in her voice clear as day, like she’s right there with them now.

But he can’t tell Toph. Then she’ll know she can’t trust him with Zuko. She’ll want him gone and she’ll be right and he can’t.

“I really, really care about him, okay? I haven’t felt like this in, uh…in a long ass time. Zuko’s special. And he’s important to me. I fucking wish I could tell you he’s never gonna get hurt at all, believe me, but I will do everything I can.”

It’s obvious at this point they do not have a destination, that Toph is just wandering them around to keep him on his toes. Sokka tries not to focus on the idea that her blindness could make it so easy not to take her seriously as a suspect even though he does believe with his whole heart she absolutely could and would kill him were she so inclined.

“You’re damn right he’s special,” Toph grumbles and stops in her tracks. “We should be near Bosco Park. Let’s find somewhere to sit, okay?”

Sokka nods but then catches himself. “Yeah. Yeah, we are. Yeah, let’s do that.”

They continue in silence, and then take the first park bench they encounter. Toph slips off her thin, worn out sandals and shuffles them just enough out of the way that she can still reach them easily without needing her hands, and Appa seems to know to steer clear of them, and she presses the soles of her bare feet hard into the ground beneath her, visibly relaxed by it.

“So, he told you about the scar,” Toph speaks up after a moment of enjoying the feeling of being unconfined by even the least confining of shoes. “He doesn’t usually tell people. And never people he’s only known this long. He must really trust you, Captain Boomerang.”

“Captain Boomerang?”

“He said you have a boomerang. Thought that was interesting.”

“Uh, yeah, it was given to me by my dad, who got it from his dad, who—”

“Yeah, don’t care. I didn’t ask for your family history. We’re here to talk about my family.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t ever fucking call me ‘ma’am’ again.”

“Yes, uh…sir?”

“I’ll allow it.” Toph breaks her serious face and laughs for a moment. “Oh shit, Sokka, I can feel the look on your face. But for real, I’m a demigirl but I’m not a big fan of many feminine forms of address. Some are okay, but I’ll tell you when they’re not. I do use she/her, don’t worry about that, and I do refer to my own self as Zuko’s sister and Dad’s daughter, but those are the big exceptions. Unless I call myself a blind girl when I’m telling some dick I can still beat him up, but I’m the only person who’s allowed to do that. Other than that, I’m not a woman and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t speak to me like one.”

“Oh yeah, of course. I’m sorry for assuming.”

Toph has kept with she/her pronouns just because to her, they feel like a reclamation of her personhood. She can’t explain it well, but it makes sense in her head.

Her birth parents wanted her to be their perfect little girl but they also wanted her to disappear and they didn’t actually want her at all, so now that she gets to live in the world and doesn’t have to be perfect or a girl, it’s simply felt right to her, likes it’s hers now when it wasn’t before, like requiring pronouns at all are a side effect of agency and she’s taking back the ones she was assigned but rarely had used.

And she keeps the words “sister” and “daughter” for Zuko and Iroh because it wasn’t until they adopted her that she ever felt like anyone’s daughter, which made being Zuko’s sister equally important even though she never had any siblings before, and it mattered that those were the words they called her and even after she started to figure out her gender wasn’t quite so cut and dry as once believed, she didn’t want to give up those words to them. No, she has been Zuko’s sister and Iroh’s daughter from the beginning and she always will be.

Maybe it’s a bit complicated, but it’s for her to say and everyone else just has to deal with it, and anyone who begs to differ has no business being part of her life anyway.

“No problem. Sorry there’s no special uniform like you and all your cuffed jeans.”

It’s true, though, unless he’s in his god awful work attire or he’s wearing boots too tall to tell, he is always rolling up cuffs at the ends of all of his pants.

“How did you even—”

“Suki makes fun of you for it all the time.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Sokka chuckles. “But come on, if I don’t cuff my jeans all the time, then how will literally every single person I ever come anywhere near in my entire life know I’m bi?”

“Good point. Also respect.”

“Thank you.”

Sokka is anxious as all hell with Toph but he appreciates how protective of Zuko she is. She’s a good sister. This is the kind of family Zuko deserves, and Sokka is grateful he has it.

“Sokka…” Toph puts a hand on his arm, and it is surprisingly gentle. “Zuko is special. He is the kindest, most selfless person I know after Dad. And it took him a long time to become that person. I wasn’t around for too, too much of it but he used to be angry and destructive as fuck, but it was only because of how much he hates himself. And that he didn’t know how to react to attention that wasn’t negative, so he’d get into trouble because that was what made sense to him. He’d start shit because he was trying to get hurt. But he’s still terrified. Of everything and everyone, and now he’s scared of getting hurt, too, even if that is what he thinks he deserves. And I never want to see him hurt.”

“I don’t, either. Honestly, it sounds fucked but I just knew somehow, right off the bat, that Zuko is…I don’t know. But I want to make him happy. I want that more than anything.”

Fuck, this is exactly how he’d talked about Yue.

“Seriously, Toph, I know he can do better, okay. I know and he deserves better. But I can legit picture a future with him. Call me sappy or pathetic or whatever, I don’t even care. Zuko was never going to be meaningless to me. I already can’t imagine life without him anymore. That’s not what you asked for, I know, but it’s what I have.”

“Now you’re just being gross,” Toph snickers at him. “You can stop with the leg bouncing now, you’re safe. Yes, I can fucking feel that. You wanna head back and see your boyfriend?”

“I’d like that.”

“Gay.”

Toph slips her shoes back on and Appa quickly recognizes that means it’s time to go, as he sits up the second she does so.

But first, Toph punches Sokka in the arm and demands, “And don’t you ever tell Zuko or anyone we had this talk, got it?”

“Yes, I got it!” Sokka puts up his hands, not thinking about the fact she won’t see the gesture. “I promise!”

“Yip, yip!”

They walk back to the Jasmine Dragon mostly in a now rather comfortable silence, focused on their journey rather than each other.

Up until they’re crossing a busy intersection and some asshole neglects to use a turn signal.

That and the speed limit is only twenty-five miles per hour here but this fucker must be going at least double that, and what is probably only a few seconds in reality moves in slow motion for Sokka and in his perception feels more like several minutes.

Toph is moving at a fairly leisurely pace as the offending SUV unexpectedly turns the corner, and at once Sokka grabs her hand with one of his and shoves her with the other, realizing too late he needed to choose only one of these.

“Appa! Yip, yip!” he commands as he pushes her, committing extra hard to his conflicting actions.

So what happens is that Toph and Appa take the hint and Appa pulls as Sokka pushes, moving her into a jog assisted by a giant dog whose job it is to keep her safe, which makes it all the more forceful as Toph pulls the hand of Sokka’s that’s holding hers, popping his shoulder partially out of place, the pain of which surprises him and he freezes momentarily, and that infinitesimal window of time—during which Toph thankfully was able to let go and speed her way to the sidewalk—is precisely long enough to keep Sokka directly in the vehicle’s path.

And in a shocking turn of mass human decency, traffic from all directions halts when Sokka is hit, and then Toph is running back towards him.

“Sokka, holy shit!”

Someone is calling for help, and someone else is speaking into their phone describing the car.

It was a Comet 100X. Of fucking course it was a Comet.

Sokka is in searing pain and he’s pretty sure his leg is broken. This is very much not how he imagined his day going. And what brilliant timing, considering how the day started.

“Can you move?” Toph asks him, and he tries to get up, but he gives up as soon as he makes the attempt with a scream.

Appa is barking and appears to be standing guard, and Toph takes her phone out of her pocket and yells, “Call Sugar Queen.”

That gets a good, albeit strained, laugh out of Sokka, which Toph is grateful to hear.

“Emergency!” she says as soon as Katara picks up. “Your idiot brother decided to play hero and got run over.”

“My brother did what? Fuck, is he…oh god, how bad is it? You wouldn’t be that sassy about it if it was bad, right?” No, not again, not again, not again, no…

“Hi, Katara!” Sokka shouts.

“Yeah, he’s fine. I think. Hurt but not, like, mortally. But I’m pretty sure a few spectators called for an ambulance so we’re probably heading to a hospital really soon. Or it had fucking better be we, anyway. Shit, they might not let me go with him. I’ll try to play helpless blind kid, see if that helps. But I thought you should know and I’ll let you know as soon as I know where we’re going, I promise.”

“Thank you, I… Thank you. Tell them to send him to UBMC, please. If they let you ride with him, tell them I told you to stay with him when you get there. Have you called Zuko?”

“No, I wanted to call you first.”

“Okay. I’m actually at the tea shop now, I’ll bring him with me. Keep me posted.”

As if on cue, sirens start blaring nearby.

“Gotta go. I’ll let you know, Katara, don’t worry. Talk to you soon.”

Chapter Text

Sokka’s leg is, in fact, broken.

In multiple places. And open, a fact initially hidden by his pants and which Toph is glad she would never have to see either way. But his tibia is shattered and skin punctured and holy hell, that hurts, but that is thankfully the majority of the damage, along with the shoulder subluxation. He got out of this with miraculously little injury. But it is still a bit worse than Toph had thought.

Alas, the leg requires surgery. The doctors insist they move quickly in hopes of preventing permanent damage.

They did allow Toph to accompany him. It just took a decent amount of yelling, lying in whining (“I’m blind and I have no way home, I don’t know how to go from here, Sokka was helping me, you can’t leave me all by myself!”), and aggressive citing of the ADA in regards to Appa. Sokka insisted she stay with him, too, and both of them repeatedly name dropped Katara (the EMTs did not know her, but that didn’t shut either of them up), so in the interest of getting everything moving they relented within a few minutes.

And as soon as they got Sokka checked into a room and he and Toph had a moment alone, she had to berate him.

That’s how she shows affection. Sokka has to remember this.

“What—and I cannot stress this enough—the fuck?” Toph’s words do not hide the shake in her voice, however, now finally allowing herself to feel all of the genuine fear which started bubbling when she heard the impact but then had to suppress while fighting to come here. “Seriously, what the fuck, Sokka? You absolute fucking walnut, why the hell would you do that?”

“I saw a threat, and I reacted,” he answers all too nonchalantly. “Maybe I panicked a little but you were right there, Toph. You could have been really hurt. And I couldn’t let that happen.”

Anyone else and she might think the move was out of ableism, however “well-intentioned” such ableism may be, but she doesn’t think that’s what happened here. Something tells her he’d have done the exact same if she were sighted, or if she were anyone else. Something tells her this is simply Sokka.

She gets why her brother likes him so much.

“And did you consider your own safety for even half a fucking second?”

“No.” Well, at least he’s honest. “I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you if I could stop it. And I could. I’ve always had super quick reflexes. So, I did. I stopped it. Pretty simple.”

“Dumbass.” Toph’s surface anger is hiding the gratitude she wants to show but can’t seem to properly dig out. For all she knows, Sokka did just literally save her life. But the fact he had absolutely zero care for his own in the process, that even though they barely even know each other he was straight up ready to die for her in that instant, to trade his life for hers without a moment’s hesitation, is rather jarring and she isn’t entirely sure what to do with this information.

Although she supposes she no longer needs to have any concern about how he’ll treat Zuko.

Zuko texts her to let her know they’ve arrived. Sokka smiles as her phone reads the message out loud for her.

“Reply. We are in room twenty-one, period. Your boyfriend is grinning like an idiot, period. I guess he’s happy you’re here or something, period. See you in a minute, period. Love you, exclamation point. Black heart emoji. Send.”

But Katara beats Zuko into the room, not even holding the door open for him coming up behind her and therefore inadvertently leaving it to slam in his face, in such a rush to see her brother.

Zuko anxiously lets himself in to see Katara awkwardly wrapping her arms around Sokka, forcing him to lean into her.

He’s glad no one could see how hard he flinched behind the door. That wasn’t directed at him, he knows that; this isn’t about him and he can’t fault Katara’s impatience, and he knows this has her triggered all to hell and back and he can respect her needs. No one is mad at him, no one was trying to hurt him. It’s okay. He’ll be alright.

Zuko sits himself on the floor next to Toph, and Appa immediately moves to him.

Katara sounds like she’s barely breathing. It’s strange, witnessing this from her.

“Fuck, Sokka, I was so scared. I know Toph said you were okay and I heard you but fuck, I just kept thinking of Mom and…and…oh, Sokka…”

She’s crying hard, cracking all at once, and no one wants to interrupt this moment both Zuko and Toph feel they don’t have any business being present for.

Toph extends her hand out for Zuko to take. Shaking, he gratefully accepts.

“I’m fine, Katara,” Sokka is repeating over and over. “I’m fine. I’m okay. Toph’s okay. It’s okay.”

Even with Katara freaking out about the possibility of losing her brother the same way they lost their mom, he’s still thinking about Toph’s safety.

Zuko internally questions how someone so amazing could possibly be real. He had never imagined his dad wouldn’t be alone as such a remarkable standout in this awful, fucked up world. (No wonder Sokka and Iroh vibe so well. He still can’t seem to allow himself to think about Hakoda factoring into that, too, though.)

“I called Dad,” Katara notes. “He only just left! But he and Bato are coming down. You nearly gave them a fucking heart attack, Sokka, god…”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Sokka counters defensively. “It’s not like I wanted some dickhead in their fucking asshole car to come speeding at us without warning!”

“But you didn’t have to jump in front of it!”

“Yes, I did!”

Toph squeezes Zuko’s hand harder, and he pulls his knees up, accidentally cracking them painfully in the process. His head is fucking pounding as it began doing as soon as Katara hung up with Toph and told him what happened and then basically dragged him into her car without so much as giving him a chance to respond, and he already keeps alternating between scrunching his eyes and forcing them to stay open. Neither Sokka nor Katara notice any of this, though, which would have been his only concern about it.

He is using his other hand to slap those fingers against their palm, and he stiffens in an attempt to keep himself from rocking. But he does not interrupt Sokka and Katara’s loud arguing, no matter how it’s affecting him. This is not about him. He shouldn’t even be here, he’s certain, but he can’t leave either. That will only draw attention to him and it might even force him to explain he’s reacting to them raising their voices. He does not want to do that. This is not about him.

Toph feels it, can guess exactly what’s going through Zuko’s mind, and she imperceptibly shakes her head at the thought of Zuko and Sokka both being self-sacrificing idiots.

She decides these beautiful dumbasses must be fucking perfect for each other.

“Zuko,” Sokka calls out, reaching towards him with the grabby hands motion, and Zuko is back on his feet in seconds. Katara doesn’t look any calmer, but she backs away without question.

Zuko wants to cry as he completely takes Katara’s place, holding onto Sokka like he’ll lose him if he lets go, like somehow that fucking car will come back for him and finish the job.

He doesn’t cry, and it is a little disheartening that it doesn’t come to him in this, but it helps to be able to feel Sokka there with him, to touch him and quiet the part of his brain which automatically insisted on assuming the absolute worst even though Katara informed him once they were en route that she could hear Sokka in the background and he was probably fine.

He couldn’t truly believe that without seeing it, though, and then he couldn’t truly accept it without feeling him, his warm skin gripping him right back, kissing his head.

It’s okay. Now he is allowed to dare to tell himself anything about this could be okay.

“I wasn’t going to let anything happen to your sister,” Sokka whispers to him even though Zuko did not ask. But Sokka’s heart is so big and pure and the fact he can’t seem to let go defending that he did the right thing…

“It’s okay,” Zuko replies anxiously. “You’re both okay, that’s all that matters now. I’m just glad you’re both okay.”

He’s still not crying, but it’s getting damn closer.

They stay that way a while until a medical assistant comes in and informs everyone Sokka is going to be moved to anesthesiology to prepare to put his bones back together.

It’s hard to let him go, for any of the three of them there with him, everything too raw yet for it to be even the tiniest bit comfortable having him out of sight again so soon.

Zuko, Toph, and Katara are led to the waiting room for the surgical ward and end up falling asleep there. Appa again curls up at Zuko’s feet.

***

Sokka comes out of surgery loopy as hell on IV Dilaudid and making terrible jokes about this being the “Day of the Comet” (which literally no one else is amused by, least of all Zuko).

Many pages of discharge instructions are passed off to Katara (being careful about his cast, not bearing weight on his left, the usual, et cetera), and Katara just smirks at Zuko because they all know these are just going to be passed off to him as soon as they leave here.

***

After far too many long and tedious hours of hospitalization and a metric fuckton of painkillers to hold him over for the next several days, Sokka is ecstatic to finally be allowed to go home and sleep in his own bed.

Or Zuko’s. That works, too.

And it is Zuko’s he chooses, which Katara actually laughs at. Sokka argues it’s because getting into both apartments involves stairs but Zuko’s are a little easier than Sokka’s as there are fewer of them to manage. Which is valid, but Katara flashes him several knowing looks anyway. He really is not looking forward to going home and having to deal with that, though.

“Welcome to accessibility hell,” Toph teases him as he has to literally crawl to get into her and Zuko’s home.

“You think if I say ‘pretty please’ Ty Lee and her elevator will let me crash at her place until I get my leg back?” Sokka jokes, and Zuko only snickers and shakes his head, and Katara hands Sokka his crutches back once he has successfully made his way up.

At least you’ll get better, Zuko thinks bitterly and fucking hates himself for it because he knows that is so painfully unfair, especially when considering how this happened (and at the same time he also hopes it’s true that he will, that they did get him into surgery soon enough for him to be able to make a full recovery).

Zuko also has to stop himself from making a (probably not serious) comment about how Sokka could also ask Ty Lee to borrow her wheelchair, but he keeps his mouth shut since, as far as he’s aware, Zuko and Mai and Suki are the only people who know Ty Lee owns it or literally ever uses one.

Katara follows them in and Iroh jubilantly welcomes her into his humble abode, professing how happy he is to have her here.

Sokka hates it, though; she is not supposed to take care of him. Katara isn’t supposed to worry about anything. He’s the one who’s meant to worry. That’s his job.

Yes, of course, this is completely unreasonable and impossible and may even sound vaguely sexist to anyone who doesn’t know him, but goddammit, it’s his fucking job.

But of course Zuko had been keeping Iroh updated and so of course Iroh has been expecting them and has been preparing the warm welcome he wanted to present Sokka with after what he just did for his family.

And said warm welcome involves multiple pizzas as well as a massive array of cookies, and the obligatory pot of tea at the center of the table.

And Sokka can’t even be mad because he swears he can smell the intense gratitude radiating from Iroh and he knows how he would feel if someone had done that for Katara (someone new who wasn’t their mother, anyway), and he does not at all see himself as deserving of this type of fanfare but he supposes he can understand why Iroh might see it otherwise when he imagines himself in that position so he decides to be appreciative of all Iroh did for him and not argue.

What he will say to Zuko about it later on may be an entirely different story but…for now, he will just enjoy it. He isn’t quite coherent enough to try to articulate any points about why this is all completely unnecessary and he is totally unworthy, and he didn’t realize how hungry he was until just now so he flat out will have to save that for another day, there is no choice.

Iroh also insists on going over all of those instructions with Zuko when Katara brings it up, wanting to help however he can, too. Katara thanks him profusely, and Sokka continues to bite his tongue.

Because he truly, with his whole heart, does not get what the big deal is. As far as he’s concerned, he didn’t do anything special. He isn’t special, and everyone is way overreacting and making him out to be something he’s not.

When Katara leaves and Zuko moves so he can help Sokka into his room, Toph stops them and just hugs him. She doesn’t say anything at first, simply puts her whole body into it and stands like that for a minute, and then she murmurs, “Thank you.”

Sokka hugs her back, taken aback by Toph’s unprompted (in his mind) display of conventional affection, and she doesn’t even wait for him to say anything in return.

“And don’t you ever do anything like that again,” she adds as she lets go.

Sokka doesn’t know what to say to that. So he doesn’t.

He flops down into Zuko’s bed and hisses at how fucking weird his leg feels, not currently a pain thanks to the nerve block which he’s been warned will wear off by morning, but it feels like something he can’t identify and it sucks knowing it is going to hurt like hell again shortly.

“I think Toph approves of me,” he chuckles while Zuko takes his nightly meds, plus some extras for the migraine. Either Sokka doesn’t notice or he simply doesn’t pry, but Zuko is glad because he does not want to focus on anything but Sokka.

“Do I even want to ask?” Zuko tries to laugh once he’s downed his handful of pills and the attempt fails, but it doesn’t matter because Sokka has already fallen asleep.

And Zuko panics quickly, remembering Sokka needs to be elevating his leg, but he is also too exhausted and in pain to do something reasonable like look for an extra pillow or roll up a blanket or even just pick up a pile of clean clothes.

No, instead, Zuko does the previously unthinkable.

He lifts Sokka’s leg as delicately as he possibly can and…

And he slips his turtleduck underneath.

It isn’t much but he figures it’s better than nothing.

And when Zuko crawls into bed beside Sokka, he takes over the role of the big spoon for a change.

Chapter Text

Sokka awakes the first morning after the accident in Zuko’s bed, his boyfriend completely wrapped around his back by both arms and legs, unapologetically attached to him on all sides, and oh fuck is he ever in an absolutely ungodly amount of pain but he can feel his own leg being slightly propped up and he can’t help himself from removing his leg from the mysterious object and maneuvering his knees to pick it up and shimmying around enough to grasp it in his hands without disturbing Zuko, and his eyes well up when he sees what it is.

He can’t believe Zuko would put Turtleduck to work like that, and his heart is so full, now clutching the treasured plushie in his arms.

“I love you,” he whispers to his sleeping partner, and in this moment he doesn’t need to hear Zuko say it back because the position of the turtleduck said it more than loud enough for him, louder than any words ever could.

***

Sokka hates everything.

He wouldn’t take it back, if given the opportunity to do it all over again he wouldn’t change anything, but “accessibility hell,” as Toph had so aptly phrased it, was the understatement of the fucking century.

The play is being postponed. Iroh spoke to everyone and Sokka tried to argue there’s no need for such measures, that he can still work and what he can’t personally do right now he could figure out a way to get, but Iroh wouldn’t hear it. He said Sokka was too important to the theatre (and to its resident star) and that it would be disrespectful to move forward without him, and the cast and crew all agreed. Sokka tried to argue, but it got him nowhere.

(It did not help his case that Sela was actually extremely relieved to have more time, for as talented as she has proven herself to be, she is still new and her nerves have been a lot.)

It looks like he actually is going to have to let people take care of him for a while. Fuck.

He remembers Zuko calling stairs a menace but he’d never really stopped to consider before exactly how severe of a menace they might have the potential to be.

And now he could not agree more: fuck stairs.

He has been at Zuko’s for a few days now. He has not showered, he does not have a change of clothes, and the pants he’s been wearing aren’t even his but given to him at the hospital because his jeans were not getting over the large splint he isn’t allowed to mess with and is stuck in for another week but then has to go in to have replaced with a proper cast.

He seriously fucking hates all of this.

Hakoda and Bato will be here in a couple more days, which Zuko is not talking about (Hakoda has already warned Bato to tread lightly with him), and Sokka asked Suki to invite them to stay at their place despite his absence, but he isn’t sure they will if he’s not going to be there.

And he knows he needs to go home even if for no other reason than to pick a new outfit and throw this one into the laundry, but he cannot handle the idea of getting in and he definitely cannot handle the idea of having anyone else in his building see him try (at least at Zuko’s, even if it’s during business hours no customer is going to be able to see him going through the apartment entrance, and the only person who hasn’t yet witnessed his broken hobbling who might catch him would be Haru, which he doesn’t love the thought of but is drastically less horrifying than it being multiple neighbors he never speaks to but constantly has to pass by).

He wants to go home to shower, though. He figures if he is going to struggle as much as he’s anticipating to do something which is ordinarily so simple, he would prefer to do it in the privacy of his own apartment and even preferably when Suki isn’t home.

Zuko, however, is not allowing this.

Zuko is insisting on taking care of Sokka. And Sokka is doing his best not to be petulant about it, and it is genuinely sweet that Zuko cares so much and wants so badly for Sokka to be able to take it easy, but Sokka is terrible at letting others help him.

“You take such good care of me,” Zuko tells him. That is not the only reason he is doting over Sokka as much as he can get Sokka to let him, he is doing it because he loves Sokka and Sokka deserves to be doted over, but he hopes that framing it this way will help Sokka accept his help. “Let me give back to you, okay? It’s only temporary anyway. And even if it wasn’t, I want to help you. I love you.”

“I love you, too. And I…I know. I know, I’m sorry.”

“You’re allowed to need help sometimes, too. It’s honestly really not fucking fair if I’m the only person in this relationship who’s ever on the receiving end.”

And Sokka knows by now this is a major insecurity of Zuko’s about their partnership, that he always feels like as much of a burden as Sokka sees himself to be right now, so Sokka could not possibly deny him on that.

“But I thought you liked being on the receiving end,” Sokka has to deflect anyway. But Zuko knows, he understands. This is just par for the course.

“Sokka…”

“I am not going to let you fucking bathe me, Zuko.”

“I’ll also blow you.”

“Fine.”

He knows he can’t stay cooped up at Zuko’s forever regardless, though. And that’s worse than having to be this vulnerable.

He can be emotionally vulnerable with Zuko. But that is virtually only with Zuko. Having to be so weak and vulnerable the way he must in this, and the fact it’s going to be this way around everyone he will have to see over the next couple of months at minimum…he is so fucking miserable.

(And it isn’t weakness when it’s anyone else, of course. Zuko’s pain and physical limitations and struggles are not weakness. Ty Lee’s flares and restrictions are not weakness. Teo’s reliance on mobility assistance is not weakness. Sokka isn’t allowed to do anything like this, however. He cannot explain why. There is no logical reasoning behind this. But he knows it in his heart to be true. He just does. Because it just is.)

He wants to hide. He wants to curl up as well as he still can under the covers in Zuko’s bed and not have to face the world at all. He wants to hide here forever.

He knows he can’t, especially with Hakoda and Bato coming all the way here for him, but…

For as guilty as he feels about putting Zuko out (which Zuko would adamantly argue that being not what Sokka is doing in any capacity), a part of him is also a little happy that if he has to go through this, at least he has Zuko by his side.

***

After a long, careful bath to at least scrub off the lingering iodopovidone and some of the Sharpie notes along the leg, and then a quick awkward shower under close supervision, Sokka is now borrowing some of Zuko’s sleep clothes. Some looser shirts and stretchier pajama pants he had lying around. He doesn’t mind lending what he can to Sokka, but he is a bit concerned about how fucking depressed Sokka seems.

Maybe he really does need to go home, simply for the change of scenery, to be forced outside for a few minutes. Zuko would go with him happily and without question, but he doesn’t know how to bring it up without worrying Sokka will immediately assume he’s just trying to tell him he’s sick of having to take care of him and wants him to go home to get out of his hair, even though that couldn’t be further from the truth.

And he intends to stay with him even when his father and step-father are with him. He feels so fucking stupid continuing to be as anxious about that as he is, but he can’t let that get in the way of him being there for Sokka. He cannot.

Katara is going to be the one who picks them up from the airport, though. Sokka is fairly certain he’ll be able to maneuver his bad leg around well enough to be able to drive somewhat comfortably, and he is very glad it was his left leg and not his driving leg he broke, but it sounds too complicated and too much like fucking work, so he is putting off trying for as long as possible.

Zuko is usually generally okay with his inability to drive, having had to come to terms with it a few years before he would have been old enough to start learning anyway. He is never happy about it, but he tries not to think about it and this is a rare case where he is typically successful. But he is quite bitter about it in this, because that is just another way he cannot help Sokka and therefore, in his mind, widens the void between what he can do and what Sokka can do and further confirms he will never be good enough for Sokka, can never be what he deserves.

He does his best for him. He holds him while he sleeps, even though Sokka knows big spooning is hard on Zuko’s shoulders but this positioning is easier on Sokka for the time being so Zuko won’t debate this. He reminds Sokka for the trillionth time it’s only temporary so it’s fine, that it would be fine anyway but it’s extra fine because they both know Sokka being the physically fragile one is not going to last.

And that it will for Zuko, so Sokka needs to suck it up and let Zuko feel as useful as he can for as long as it takes for Sokka to heal.

***

“Who’s going to stop me? Mom?”

Mom is gone. Mom can’t help him. He knows that. Azula knows that. Once again, Zuko doesn’t understand what’s funny. He does not understand why Azula is laughing. All he is sure of in this precise moment is that Azula has him pinned against a wall and she is hurting him and mocking him, taunting him for being a failure and digging her nails into his arms, not letting him move, her eyes menacing.

She draws blood and he shouts. It isn’t even so much pain as it is the surprise. Azula can be cruel to him, that’s nothing new, but this is the first time she’s touched him like this.

Ozai shouts back. Zuko isn’t sure where he came from, but he completely ignores Azula and her actions and yells at Zuko to be quiet. He clearly sees what’s happening, he just doesn’t care. Hell, if anything he’s probably proud of her. But as always, only Zuko can be a problem. He is not allowed to react to being hurt, and that is nothing new. Ozai walks away and Zuko bites down hard on his lip. Because if she keeps it up and he makes any more noise, then Ozai will punish him for being a bother. He has to remain quiet to make this as easy on himself as possible.

The next day Zuko locks himself in his bedroom. He moves his bed, a difficult task all by himself, far enough over to stop the door, blocking it from opening at all. There is a transom window above said door. Ozai breaks it. He gets a ladder and crawls through it. The window will not be fixed. It will never be fixed (not as long as Zuko’s there, anyway). Zuko has nowhere to hide now. Nowhere at all. There is no such thing as safety. And he must face the consequences of trying to seek safety so desperately. This beating will not hold back. It’s what he deserves, after all. And he thought he could be clever, barring his door. But he isn’t clever. There is nothing redeeming about him. He was a mistake. He is a mistake. Everyone would be better off without him.

He was only twelve years old the first time he tried to end his life. He failed at that, too, of course. And Ozai didn’t let him forget it.

Maybe Ozai should have actually finished the job when Zuko was thirteen. Maybe that would have been doing him and everyone a favor.

Ozai hurt him over and over but death would have been a mercy. Death was too merciful a punishment for what Zuko deserved. His mother got away with banishment. In the end, as did Zuko. She probably has to live with this, too, with the hurt that never ends. This might very well be worse.

That broken window, the glass shattered all along his bed and carpet, left for him to deal with. He uses it willingly. His defeat turns into a weapon which will only ever touch his own skin. It just feels right.

Eventually he has to move his bed back. The ladder outside his door, on the other hand, becomes a permanent fixture. A reminder. He will never be safe. He can never be safe.

He deserves every bad thing that happens to him. Every last one. Ozai says so. Ozai laughs. Zuko still misses the joke. But he knows, through all the laughter, that it’s true.

The burning. The orbital fracture. The extent of injury. The lifelong pain and PTSD and personality disorder. He’s earned it all.

He was given all the love he deserved.

It just so happens that it was none. Less than.

“Just listen to your father, you little brat,” Zhao says after another useless call from a house within earshot. Zhao smiles. And Ozai laughs.

Ozai laughs.

Zuko is covered in scrapes and bruises after a meeting with a brick wall, and Ozai laughs.

Maybe it isn’t that it’s funny. Sometimes people laugh when they’re happy.

And Ozai laughs. Because hurting Zuko brings him joy.

“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know what he did wrong this time, but that doesn’t stop him from begging for forgiveness. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

A slap. A slam. Laughter. So much laughter.

At least he can make someone happy sometimes. Maybe this is what he’s here for.

Zuko is plastered against Sokka’s back like a starfish sticking to aquarium glass, his body adhered like it’s covered in suction cups and glue.

He does not immediately register when he wakes up hyperventilating that he is breathing directly onto the back of Sokka’s neck, Sokka’s skin in such close contact it is muffling the sound of Zuko’s nightmares.

Hakoda and Bato land today. Katara is most likely at the airport waiting for them now. This cannot be a coincidence.

But Zuko can’t breathe. He feels like his lungs are filled with smoke, he feels like he’s just had the wind knocked out of him after being hit or pushed into something hard enough to take his breath away.

He peels himself off of Sokka and his whole body jerks and he accidentally bashes his own head off the wall behind him and shouts at the impact and the whimpered pleading and promising to be good that escapes his throat is automatic, and then he’s panicking and Sokka is holding him and goddammit it, why can’t anything ever be simple, and Sokka comforts him and Sokka is not supposed to be the one doing any of the work between them right now and it takes an entire twenty minutes to get Zuko calm enough to take something for the fresh headache this outburst caused and he goes silent with shame.

And it’s probably about another fifteen minutes after that before Zuko can look at Sokka at all (making eye contact is a whole other story, but Zuko is never particularly good at that). And when he does he sees that Sokka looks like he’s about to cry and Zuko shakes his head because this is wrong and Ozai was right.

“Zuko. Zuko, babe. Listen. I want you to see my dad. I want you to meet Bato. Okay? I want you to stay with me. But if you can’t, if you… I just don’t want you to feel like you have to. Alright? If you want to be there, I would love that. But don’t make yourself do anything for me. Please.”

Broken people.

Broken people, but whose pieces fit together so remarkably well.

“Sokka, no…” This isn’t about you, Zuko. This isn’t about you, this isn’t about you, this isn’t about you, stop making everything about you.

“Sokka.” Okay. Deep breath. “Your dad…he seemed, uh, really nice.”

“He is. And he cares about you, too. He asks about you all the time when we text.”

“Oh. Umm. Well. Your dad and your, uh, your step-dad. You love them, yeah? Like, you really love them? And you trust them?”

“Yeah, I do. Both of them. With my life.”

“Okay. Sokka, I…you can tell them. About, you know…about me. About why I…why this is so hard for me. If you want. If you think you should. I don’t want them to think I’m just being a dick to them or that I’m rude or…”

Or that he’s bad or worthless or undeserving of Sokka. Zuko himself might know all of that, but he doesn’t want that to be the impression he’s made on Sokka’s parents so early.

“My dad kind of figured there was…something, you know,” Sokka admits. “He asked but I didn’t tell him anything. Only that you weren’t being a dick or anything. So he…he knows. I mean, he doesn’t know, I would never have done that without your consent but…he knows not to be offended or take anything personally. But I can tell him, yeah. If you’re sure. But only if you are one hundred percent sure. I’m not going to tell your story for my sake. I need to know you are absolutely okay with it for yourself.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever really be okay with talking about it,” Zuko says with a shrug. “But they’re important to you and I know they’re a big part of your life and that means I want them to be able to be a part of my life, too. And I appreciate you understanding why that’s tough for me, I do. But that’s not fair to you. So I…I want you to tell them. They should know. Because you deserve that. I don’t think I can do it, fuck, but you…you can. It’s probably for the best if you do.”

“That means a lot to me, Zuko.”

“You mean a lot to me.”

Zuko isn’t sure if he’s more or less painfully anxious now than he was, but he implicitly knows he’s doing the right thing. Because he isn’t doing this for himself. This is for Sokka. This matters to Sokka. He can do anything for Sokka.

He is in so deep.

And watching Sokka in Zuko’s rainbow lounge pants and old Skinny Puppy t-shirt smiling so brightly at him with so much love in his eyes, something so extraordinary Zuko cannot possibly be worth but would fucking die for, he does his best to muster even the slightest hint of confidence for the hard conversation he isn’t even going to participate in, but is a huge step for him all the same.

Zuko can’t help himself kissing Sokka, long and rough, silently telling him just how serious he is about all of this.

Their fingers lock. Their broken pieces click further into place with one another’s.

Chapter Text

“You know you’re not the first person to crawl up or down these stairs,” Zuko speaks in what is meant to be reassurance. “You’re also not the first person to have to sit down in that shower. I do it all the time. The crawling and the sitting. So. You know. It’s fine.”

It’s not fine. I hate it, too.

“Oh. Sorry.” Sokka wonders if he should have figured that out already. It makes sense, after all, with everything he knows about Zuko and with how easy to guide Sokka through this he’s been.

“It’s fine, Sokka. Really.”

For you.

Katara is only a few minutes away. They’re all meeting up at the Jasmine Dragon and Hakoda is just going to drive Sokka’s car while he’s in town. Zuko asked how long he and Bato are staying and apparently they didn’t tell him. They most likely didn’t even buy their return tickets yet. They’ll simply determine when they feel okay leaving Sokka again and go from there.

They are good to him, that much is obvious. Zuko has to get used to this.

He is blatantly trembling and Sokka’s crutches are clattering together in his arms as he walks in front of Sokka who has been reduced to sliding on his ass down the stairs.

Zuko has cigarettes and headphones and plans to bolt through the front door the moment they have officially touched down into tea shop territory.

He wants Sokka to get this conversation over with as soon as possible and he does not want to be anywhere near them while it’s going on. And by not being “anywhere near” he means hiding in the alleyway while an intense discussion occurs within the confines of the Hyundai leaving them only about twenty feet apart, but…

He’ll take it. He just cannot be there. But this needs to happen. Because it will help Zuko with taking care of Sokka.

He wants to be there for Sokka.

But for now, they hit the first floor and Zuko runs.

He pops in one metallic red Skullcandy earbud (only the right since his left ear’s post-burn shape doesn’t really support an earbud and it’s not like he’d be able to hear well enough out of it if he put it in anyway) and he blares Specimen at full volume hoping to drown out everything, including what he knows is moving forward outside of his little corner wide open “hideout.”

Hakoda sees him and tries to smile in his direction, mildly concerned by the way he is handling his lighter with a lit cigarette in his other hand, but Katara recognizes Zuko is spaced out and internally losing it but she knows Sokka’s inside so Sokka must know what’s going on and if her outrageously overprotective brother actually let Zuko go outside without him in this state then she will trust his judgment on that. So instead of focusing on Zuko she urges Hakoda and Bato into the shop.

Iroh greets Hakoda and Hakoda thanks Iroh for being so good to Sokka, and then he introduces Bato to Iroh and they start to make small talk but Sokka is nervous, too, and decides he needs to speed this along for his sake as well as Zuko’s.

“Can I talk to you, umm, in private? Both of you? The car’s parked right out front, we could…”

Katara narrows her eyes at him, and she bluntly asks what the hell is going on.

“I just have to…explain some stuff.”

“Oh? Oh. Oh.”

She turns her head past the door and in the direction where Zuko sits currently unseen beyond it. “You mean about…about?”

“Yeah. Uh. About.”

She is still squinting at him, like she can’t believe he would talk about Zuko behind his back like that, but she can’t believe Sokka would talk about Zuko behind his back like that because she knows he never would, so Zuko must have…

Oh.

“That’s…” She has no clue what she’s saying, especially in public, but she’s sure Sokka understands. They’ve always been able to communicate like this.

“Yeah,” he repeats, because he does, he gets it. He reads her. He usually does.

Sokka has blanket permission to tell them anything they want to know or anything Sokka might feel they need to know. All Zuko has asked is that if Sokka thinks he needs to tell them who his birth father is that Sokka gives them the same disclaimer Zuko gave him, that they are sworn to secrecy on the matter. Sokka told Zuko he can trust them, because he knows he can, but Zuko’s hands were shaking so hard when they went over that part Sokka was scared he was going to sprain his own wrists.

Sokka slides into the backseat, smirking a little at himself (it’s clean, there is no evidence of what happened the last time anyone was back here, but…), claiming the entire area with his crutches and by propping up his broken leg.

Hakoda and Bato sit up front and turn to look at Sokka, who just sort of fidgets with his hands.

“Hey. So. About Zuko.”

Zuko, who is leaning against the wall and whisper-singing to himself and tapping his fingers along his knee to the rhythm as the song “Kiss Kiss Bang Bang” changes over to “Tell Tail” in his headphones, shifting his limbs uncomfortably and staring at the asphalt beneath his feet.

“Everything alright between you two?” Hakoda smiles at Sokka, albeit a bit strangely, uncertain where this is going but not missing the way Sokka’s eyes light up when he says Zuko’s name, same as he did last time that saw each other in person just a couple of weeks ago.

“Oh! Oh, yeah. Everything is good, definitely. So good, actually, I kind of need to tell you some really bad shit.”

“Oh,” Hakoda acknowledges with a nod.

“Because, umm…because he knows you’re a big part of my life, and he knows he’s gonna have to get used to that but he wants you to be able to understand why that’s a thing he needs to get used to.”

Sokka is starting to speak too fast, and Hakoda reaches back and places a hand on his son’s shoulder.

Katara comes outside and brings Zuko a large cup of “calming jasmine tea,” as Iroh so frequently phrases it, with a few spoonfuls of honey mixed in, also holding a Black Sun for herself. She sits down across from Zuko so she can keep an eye on his left but is still in his line of sight and hearing. They’ve been friends for a few years, she knows what to do by now.

But Zuko doesn’t turn down his music, just accepts the tea with a nod, and he keeps glancing towards Sokka’s car. He feels so weird about all of this, about putting so much into an emotional excursion which is bound to cause him so much more suffering later.

But what if it doesn’t? What if this could last?

Zuko isn’t sure when he started entertaining the thought of having something good in his life that isn’t destined to crash and burn, but…

You’ve gotten good things before. You have your dad, your sister, your home. You’ve made friends. You’ve kept those. Maybe you can keep this, too.

Dr. Shyu will be so proud.

I want to do whatever I can to keep him.

And Katara doesn’t have any problem simply sitting with Zuko right now. She didn’t want to leave him alone but she doesn’t need him to talk to her if he doesn’t want to. She just wants him to know she’s here. And she knows he appreciates it, she doesn’t need him to tell her.

“Is this about Zuko being terrified to be around me?” Hakoda asks Sokka. The question is rhetorical, though, because what the hell else could this be about.

Hakoda has told Bato. What he could, anyway. Because of course Bato was curious to hear about Sokka’s new boyfriend, but Hakoda having barely gotten two whole sentences out of this poor scared kid was not what Bato had been anticipating.

“Yeah,” Sokka says softly. “Yeah. He was, uh, he was abused as a kid. Real, real bad. I’m sure that’s not much of a surprise, but…”

Zuko takes a slow sip of steaming hot tea and takes out his earbud. “Katara…”

“You leave me no choice, Zuko.” It hurts, it hurts. It hurts, but… “If you’d only do as you’re supposed to, I wouldn’t need to do these things.”

“Yes, Father. I understand, Father. I’m sorry, Father.” It hurts and it’s my fault, he punishes me when I’m wrong, authorities don’t get in the way because he’s right. It’s all my fault. It’s my fault and I deserve this.

“Yeah, Zuko?”

“Your, umm…your f-father…” Zuko can’t look at her. Dad is a hard word for him, too. Always has been. It implies a level of love and trust he has so little experience with when it comes to paternal figures. He has been able to refer to Hakoda as being their dad in conversations before, but now that Hakoda is again here it’s no longer so simple.

It has only ever been easy with Iroh. It seems impossible sometimes to consider some people aren’t just born from fathers but are born with dads. Teo and Haru both have dads and not just fathers, for example, and he’s met them both multiple times, but it took Zuko years to adjust his wording for them, too. Because even outside of his own lived experience of having once been brought up with a monster for a father, he has heard too many horror stories via his volunteer work, as well. He sees it all the goddamn time at the shelter: almost always families, almost always fleeing an abusive father. Even for the cases who come in without children, it is then typically still an abusive husband or boyfriend from whom they are running. And Zuko’s mother’s bruises had been just as bad as his.

“He never hurt you, right?”

He cringes at himself, not sure why he’s asking this or what he’s trying to accomplish here, but immediately concerned he’s making Katara mad.

“Not that I…that I think he would, that he seems like the type or…”

“Zuko, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Explain yourself!” Ozai’s angry voice rings in his ears. Ozai’s consistent Addressing Zuko voice. For Ozai, Zuko always had to explain himself. Not that any explanation was ever good enough, but it was demanded anyway every time.

It’s been half his fucking life since he’s been out of there. Why are you still like this?

“But no, he didn’t. He yelled sometimes, but he’s only human. Stuff like that happens, even with good parents. But he never touched us. Not like that. He would never have hit Sokka or me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“But what about when you were bad? When he was disappointed in you? When you didn’t listen or you didn’t do it right or…”

“We’d be punished, sure. Our parents would ground us. We’d have stuff taken away, not be allowed to see friends after school, have to stay in and be given extra chores on the weekends, that sort of thing. Never violence, though, Zuko. Never.”

“I know you know about the…you know.”

“I do. I know. I felt bad I found out without you telling me, but I figured you knew that I knew.”

“I appreciate you not telling anyone. I don’t know why it’s still so hard to talk about. But.”

“But you told Sokka, yeah? And now he’s telling our dad, isn’t he?”

“He told you?”

“I guessed. Sisterly intuition.”

“Heh. You and Toph could compare notes.”

“Oh, we do, don’t worry.” Katara laughs and smiles warmly. She’s been good to Zuko, and he remembers Sokka mentioning she wanted Zuko and Sokka to get together. She trusts him with her brother. That’s important. That matters.

Hakoda nods at Sokka, not surprised in the slightest. He doesn’t know what to say next, though. Sokka said Iroh never hurt him, said that Iroh has been good to him, but with nothing else to go on Hakoda’s protective instincts kick in (Sokka is oh so very much his son).

“Where is his mother?” Bato asks. “Did she—”

“No,” Sokka interrupts. Just like when Hakoda inquired about Iroh, Sokka understands why Bato would wonder about Ursa, but once again Sokka has to squash that immediately because he knows how much Zuko would hate anyone thinking of her that way.

“No, his mom left when he was little. She wanted to take him, he said, but it would have been worse if she did. Zuko seems to think they’d have both been killed if she had. And from everything else he’s told me, I believe it.”

“Fucking hell,” Bato mutters.

“He doesn’t talk about his mom much,” Sokka adds. He touches his whalebone choker when he says it, a gift from his mother. One of the last he ever got from her. “He really misses her, though. I know that much.”

Sokka has to take a breath. This isn’t even his story but he can’t imagine it will ever get easier, knowing what Zuko has been through. It isn’t fair. Life can be so cruel and it isn’t fucking fair.

“But he, umm…he ran away when he was a teenager. He ran when he got burned. You know, the…” Sokka points to his left eye and makes a few circular motions around it. Yes, they know what he’s referring to. “He moved in with his uncle after that. Then he adopted him and became his dad. His real dad. That’s Iroh.”

Zuko starts another cigarette and hastily drops his lighter. Somehow right now he can’t bring himself to look at the flame.

He is not afraid of fire. He’s not. But.

He holds the cigarette at his right and he holds up his left hand, covers the scarred side of his face with it and presses in. It hurts to hold open his eyes. It hurts to breathe.

“Zuko.” Katara speaks gently yet firmly, leaning forward and trying to get him to look at her. She doesn’t need eye contact, that’s fine, but she’d like some sort of confirmation he’s still mentally there with her, to keep him from drifting too far off into a dissociative hellscape he will struggle deeply to return from. “Zuko, it’s okay. You’re safe, alright? And if you’re safe with Sokka, then you’re safe with our dad. I swear, those two are almost the same damn person sometimes.”

“He…he really never hurt you? Never?”

“Never. Things weren’t perfect, don’t get me wrong, but…”

Zuko is fighting so hard not to shut down, to disappear. His mind wants desperately to escape his body and he feels so fucking stupid, like this is just another example of his weakness and failure…

You’re both so smart and strong and brave. I bet you always had potential. I bet you didn’t disappoint your father the way I did.

“You know, I had really hoped that was from some sort of accident,” Hakoda says of Zuko’s scar. “I should have known better, but…fuck, are you saying his father did that?”

The lines have been made easy enough to read between at this point, that’s fair.

“Birth father, yeah,” Sokka clarifies. “Former father. I’ve had it pretty thoroughly drilled into me over the last few months that there’s a fucking huge difference.”

“In his case, I should say so,” Hakoda sighs. He looks and sounds so sad. Appropriately so, though, honestly.

“How—” Bato shakes his head, not actually expecting further detail and not sure he wants it.

“Uh, to make a kind of long story short, he knocked him out and put him in a fireplace because he was in a shitty mood.”

He sounds so fucking casual, downright flippant, but that’s because he is just trying to get through this and not freak out telling this story and he doesn’t know how to hold himself at all.

Hakoda and Bato are left speechless. That level of explanation yet asks more questions than it answers, but that’s more than enough for Hakoda to understand Zuko’s behavior with him.

“Also, uh, he still has a bunch of health problems from it but it’s probably most important you know he can’t see or hear out of that side so please be mindful of that whenever you’re with him?” Sokka adds quickly, awkwardly without any distinguishing break between words, inflecting like a question for some reason after rushing through making sure to get that note in.

“I hope that man has been made to suffer for what he did,” Bato says coldly, and Sokka laughs. A hollow, desolate, haunting laugh devoid entirely of joy and humor, a broken sound which echoes throughout the car.

“Yeah,” Sokka follows. “Wouldn’t that be nice.”

Katara has moved to rubbing Zuko’s knees, soft and unobtrusive but there and slowly pulling him back to the present.

“Are they going to judge me?” he asks her frantically. “Are they going to hate me?”

“Zuko. Zuko, no, of course not. Why on earth would they do that?”

“Because if they didn’t hurt you, if they never would have hurt you, won’t they wonder what I must have done to get hurt? Won’t they have to at least consider I could have deserved it?”

“Absolutely not. No, never. They would never hurt us because they’re good people. They would never hurt anyone the way you’ve been hurt. And that was never your fault. Listen to me, Zuko, listen. You did not deserve that. No one deserves to be treated like that.”

“Are you saying Hitler doesn’t—”

“Zuko, stop that. That’s not fair. You are not Hitler.”

“Well, you said ‘no one,’ so…”

“Zuko. You know what I mean.”

He does, and now he’s just being difficult, and he doesn’t mean to be but it’s only furthering his own fucking point.

“No one should ever treat a child that way, okay? Is that better? It is never okay to hurt a fucking kid like that. I know that, Sokka knows that, our dad knows that, Iroh—your dad—knows that, and I think on some level you know that, too.”

“God, why the fuck am I acting like this?” Zuko does not at all mean to say that aloud, but out it comes anyway. “So fucking stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, Zuko.” Katara is now only inches in front of him, leaning in and touching his left arm. “Maybe it’s not rational, but it’s not stupid. It’s okay to get upset about bad things in the past. It’s okay to wrestle with the shit we wish never happened. And it’s okay not to know how to handle a new situation. My dad is a new thing, and he’ll understand that. He will. He won’t judge you. It’s really okay. It is, I promise.”

“But listen,” Sokka says a bit more forcefully than he intends. “Listen, you can’t talk about this to anyone. Anyone. Like, not even Gran Gran, okay? He doesn’t like to talk about it, it’s really hard for him, but it’s not even that. It’s because his birth fa—his abuser is fucking stupid rich and pretty famous and that’s probably why he got away with it but even though he straightup disowned Zuko after Zuko ran away and all that, you can’t talk about it publicly because there could be legit legal consequences or whatever. I don’t know, that’s what Zuko told me, anyway. So just…I know this is a whole fucking lot but you’ve got to keep it quiet, for him and for yourselves.”

“Our lips are sealed, son,” Hakoda replies, and Bato nods.

Sokka feels a little sick to his stomach now, after spilling all of those secrets even with express permission, and having to think enough about all of it to be able to talk about it.

At least you didn’t have to live it. You can help him through this much. You’re lucky enough to have been born into a family that warrants this.

“Okay. I’m gonna go check on him. He was nervous as hell about me talking to you, I hope he’s not freaking out. Meet me inside?”

Before either of them can answer, Sokka quickly remembers to take the carabiner holding his car keys out of his (Zuko’s) soft rainbow pocket and hand them to his dad, and then he exits the car and carefully hobbles his way over to Zuko and (as he is surprised but grateful to see) Katara.

Sokka sees Zuko holding his hand over his scar and Katara hovering over him so carefully, and his chest aches.

Katara looks up at him and smiles, and it gets Zuko’s attention, as well. Sokka almost sits down but decides against it, annoyed but aware that it is only going to make everything worse if he sets himself down on the ground and then has to get up from that position. Instead he leans into the tea shop outside wall and puts all of his weight on his good leg, leaning his crutches into the wall beside him and wishing it was reasonable for him to get down on Zuko’s level right now.

Katara stands up, herself, and reaches down to help Zuko to his feet. He looks remarkably calmer upon seeing Sokka, and she smirks with big “I knew it” energy, although that isn’t really for anyone else to appreciate at the moment.

“Hey,” Sokka pulls Zuko towards him, minding his back against the brick and doing his best to steady himself as he encourages Zuko into his arms. “Hey, babe, it’s okay. I told you it’d be okay, and it’s okay. No one is mad at you, no one is judging you. We just care about you. We all care about you, Zuko.”

Zuko is still holding his scar, making it difficult to bury his face into Sokka’s shoulder like he is actively doing anyway, but he can’t seem to let go and Sokka is as comforting as ever, his arms around Zuko and keeping himself precariously balanced where he stands, and Zuko just doesn’t know how he’s supposed to act or feel or…or anything but at least he has Sokka and that feels safe.

Sokka makes Zuko feel safe.

“All?” Zuko’s voice comes out high pitched and obviously scared. Sokka’s presence helps but he still feels like such a stupid fucking child. “You mean they…they don’t blame me for it?”

“Oh god, Zuko, you were worried abou—oh shit, baby, no, of course not.”

Katara picks up Zuko’s barely touched tea off the thin strip of concrete along the wall, and she once again smiles at Sokka before taking it in.

Zuko’s eye waters and burns but it ends with that, although he isn’t holding back at all; full force crying just isn’t coming but he has been able to develop hope it might come along on its own later when he needs it. It’s for the best now, too, as Zuko would prefer not to be any more of a mess than this when he goes inside with Sokka and faces Hakoda for the first time with the walls all torn down, and Bato for the first time at all.

Sokka winces at some point between head kisses and touching Zuko’s hair while trying to stay standing and Zuko pulls back. His left hand might as well be fucking glued onto his face but he takes a deep, harsh breath and pries it off. He holds Sokka at his hips and kisses his lips, long and tender, while Sokka readjusts to grip at his crutches, simultaneously holding him steady and distracting him from helping himself.

Zuko has told himself so many times over the past few months that this can never truly be real.

He is now beginning to wonder if he’s wrong.

Chapter Text

Sitting next to each other, Sokka won’t let Zuko get more than an inch or two away from him.

Toph is over at the front counter bantering with Haru, but he keeps glancing over their way, making it all too evident Toph is talking about them.

Zuko doesn’t know what to do with the way Hakoda and Bato look at him, and if they even are looking at him as often as he swears he can feel their eyes on him, but he does know that he enjoys seeing how happy it makes Sokka to have them here.

He needs to get used to this. He can get used to this.

Hakoda and Bato are also not subtle with the way they touch each other, the brushing away of hair and the holding of hands.

Hands which nurture and care. Hands which are never used for deliberate harm.

Sokka looks so much like Hakoda. In his face and his body type, yes, but also strikingly in his mannerisms and expressions. Sokka strongly takes after this man in everything he is, and Zuko can’t help raptly watching their interactions.

Hakoda beams when Bato kisses him on the temple before getting up to get some sugar, and Zuko sees Sokka’s smile in it.

This could be us someday.

Iroh was younger than he is now whenever he got married, as well as when Lu Ten was born. It can be easy to forget that sometimes, since it isn’t really something they talk about, but…

It seems worth noting in Zuko’s head now. They’re not kids. Dreaming of the future like this isn’t quite as silly as it feels.

This could be us someday.

I want that to be us someday.

Zuko tries to imagine what it would be like to grow up like this, to be a child and not live in constant fear, to know love from a young age, to be able to retain innocence in youth.

A tear drops into a half empty, cold cup of tea.

“Zuko?” Katara’s voice, although it instantly pulls Sokka’s attention.

Katara is almost grinning at him. Like she’s glad to see him cry.

But she probably is. She knows how rarely he does that and how badly he needs it. He imagines she is suppressing it for the crowd, but she may well be legitimately excited about it.

Zuko, on the other hand, does not want this and is less than thrilled about it. He was grateful it didn’t come when he was outside, but that would have been better than this.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. Not right here, not right now, not in front of…

“You alright there, son?”

And with that one last word, Hakoda breaks Zuko.

Toph is at the table with them now, too, having apparently fucking teleported to them she made it over so fast.

But she doesn’t say anything, she just sort of stands over him like she’s shielding him. Maybe she is. There aren’t many potential onlookers around but Toph would know Zuko would want to hide from those who are present, so she would take it upon herself to help hide him.

“I’m fine,” Zuko attempts to protest the way everyone but Toph is staring at him.

Bato doesn’t say a word when he sits back down. Sokka holds Zuko’s hands. Toph puts her hands on his shoulders from behind him.

“Really, it’s okay,” Zuko insists. He doesn’t want to get into what a big fucking deal his not only crying but crying in public is. He’ll be seeing a lot of Hakoda and Bato for a bit and he knows that, so maybe Sokka or Katara can explain that to them, too. Hell, maybe he’ll find it in him to explain it himself.

That seems doubtful, but…

He would normally be suffocating from being so overcrowded but somehow it’s okay right now. Somewhat overwhelming still, sure, but he isn’t falling into a panic and that is…interesting.

It’s likely because he’s actually fucking crying and that’s enough of a help on its own even though his timing leaves much to be desired.

Sokka readjusts and wraps his arms around Zuko, pulling him in to lean his face into his chest from beside him. It isn’t the most comfortable angle, but Zuko sure as hell won’t turn it away.

Zuko resigns, just lets it happen. It isn’t too loud or dramatic, no one he doesn’t know is paying any attention to him, so.

Being the center of attention like this is fairly horrifying but he doesn’t let himself worry about it right now. He lets Sokka hold him, lets it go.

And neither Hakoda nor Bato berate him. Neither calls him weak or stupid. Neither ridicules him or suggests giving him more to cry about.

No one judges. No one scorns. No one is mad. It’s okay.

It almost feels good.

***

“I can carry you,” Suki tells Sokka at the bottom of the stairs to their apartment.

Sokka knows she can, too, that she would make it all the way up to their unit with him on her back with no problem.

Zuko went with Sokka. He isn’t leaving him, not unless he absolutely has to. He has a bag full of clothes, meds, and turtleduck. He is still nervous about the mass reveal of two of these, but he’s dealing with it. For Sokka, he’ll deal with it.

“Zuko, I am never telling you to ‘break a leg’ before a show or audition or anything ever again,” Sokka laughs. “Because, you know, now I’ve done that and it fucking sucks.”

Zuko genuinely smiles at him and his being just so Sokka, at the same time Suki kneels in front of Sokka and grips his arms and forces them over her shoulders and grabs his wrists and lifts him off the ground and he yelps, and Zuko and Hakoda and Bato are all laughing together and…

And somehow it all feels right.

Sokka sees the three of them laughing together and has to wonder if maybe this was all worth it.

It most definitely was not, of course, not by a long shot, but this moment is still a beautiful little silver lining and Sokka is absolutely going to let himself appreciate it for that, at the very least.

***

“You know, you didn’t have to stay,” Sokka tells Zuko between kisses. “I know this is still a little weird for you, and you—”

“I know, Sokka. I wanted to. And don’t say you wouldn’t do the same for me. Fuck, you basically already have, so—”

“Zuko, that’s not the same and you and I both know that’s not—”

“And I…I appreciate you acknowledging that, I really do. But I couldn’t…I can’t…I’m not going to… Sokka, I…”

I want that to be us someday.

Zuko flicks his tongue along Sokka’s and slips a hand down Sokka’s pants. He doesn’t want to talk about it.

Sokka knows Zuko is very intentionally avoiding talking about it, but he is also making it damn hard to argue.

Unfortunately…

Sokka takes a harsh breath, wanting nothing more than to be this close to Zuko, but finding himself questioning the practicality. “You know, I just realized, we did not think this through.”

In their defense, there was no thinking involved at all—they had started just holding each other and transitioned quite naturally from cuddling to kissing to this—but now it seems a bit too obvious that there has been a major oversight considering Sokka’s left leg is immobilized from knee to foot.

Zuko pants against Sokka’s mouth and his whole body stills and stiffens because he knows Sokka’s right but by god, where there’s a will, there’s a way.

“Fuck it,” Sokka says, closing his eyes. “We’ll figure it out.”

Zuko rolls on top of Sokka and Sokka grabs the back of Zuko’s neck and pulls him down to kiss and nip at it, running his nails down Zuko’s back, digging his fingers into Zuko’s waist as Zuko aggressively and involuntarily rolls his hips.

Sokka sits up and he and Zuko rush to get their clothes off and Zuko gets what they need from the bedside drawers and they manage to make it work with Zuko in Sokka’s lap and both of them doing everything they can to keep their weight off of Sokka’s left side. It isn’t easy and they have to slow down a few times due to Sokka hissing in pain when the pressure of their bodies falls just wrong, and Zuko has to do significantly more of the work than he usually does while riding Sokka and he does his best to ignore the aggravation of his hips in this position, but it is all completely worthwhile to be able to physically connect with each other after their emotional day. They both needed this. They both needed this bad.

And then they’re back to holding each other and unable to keep their lips to themselves for more than a few seconds at a time.

Hakoda and Bato are staying in the living room, and this is how Zuko learned the couch is actually a futon. Sokka doesn’t even know if he still needs to but he is eager to keep Zuko distracted from their being only maybe twenty feet away.

Sokka breathes in Zuko’s soft hair and warm skin, his presence a constant source of comfort.

He is beginning to enjoy the scent of smoke.

Sokka is so unbelievably grateful Zuko is here. He is so unbelievably grateful Zuko has stayed.

Sokka knows it’s hard and weird, but Zuko’s arms are tight around him. Zuko stayed.

He loves him so fucking much.

***

The sound of pounding and tense voices is coming from two different directions and it takes Sokka a minute to figure out what’s happening when it wakes him up in the middle of the night.

From right beside him there is the slapping of any solid surface within reach, primarily the wall behind the bed and a still-sleeping Zuko’s own skin. This accompanies his very loud whimpering and occasional shout through panicked breaths. Turtleduck has been thrown to the floor.

From outside the room, there is a knocking on the door and the calling of Sokka’s name.

“Zuko,” Sokka whispers. “Zuko, babe, wake up. You’re okay, Zuko. Hey, look at me.”

Sokka shakes Zuko gently, and he sits up and jerks away with a bone chilling yell.

At which point the door to Sokka’s room opens.

Because Hakoda is not in a state one could genuinely refer to as awake, and all he really understands is he was disturbed from his sleep by a clear sound of suffering coming from his son’s room, and when he got up to investigate it only got worse, so in his groggy daze his paternal instincts kicked into autopilot.

(Sokka has always known he had been gifted by the universe with a great dad, but he’s never appreciated it more than he does since learning about Zuko’s childhood. Katara, in fact, as well, is planning on having a very long and possibly uncomfortable conversation with their father to finally address the issues she’s been holding onto for so long now which suddenly seem so trivial to her after staying with Zuko in the alley.)

But witnessing Zuko recoil and cower, hearing Zuko shriek when Hakoda enters the room, is like a bucket of cold water being dumped over his head. He’s sure as hell awake now.

Everything stands still.

Zuko is half-asleep yet himself, doesn’t immediately register where he is or who he’s with or what’s going on, and all he can do is bend forward with his eyes screwed shut covering his ears with his hands and rock back and forth.

Turtleduck is halfway between the door and the bed. Hakoda does not recognize the plush and therefore can easily assume it belongs to Zuko.

He isn’t sure he knows what he’s doing when he picks it up off of the floor and walks over to his son’s shaking boyfriend, doesn’t consider this might only make everything worse, but what he does know is he sees a hurt kid in distress and he wants to help.

He kneels down at Zuko’s side of the bed and extends the stuffed animal.

“This yours, son?”

Son. There it is again.

Zuko nods and stops moving. He lowers his hands and accepts his turtleduck from Hakoda’s. He takes it and then…

And then he rushes his whole upper body into Hakoda and pulls on him, wraps his arms around him. Hakoda returns the gesture and Sokka looks on with wide, confused eyes and a small, relieved smile.

Zuko has no idea what he’s doing, is still pretty out of it, but he apparently all at once recognizes Hakoda’s Big Dad Energy and lets it crash down on him, recognizing the same sort of safety he senses not only with Sokka but also with Iroh, and he embraces it both figuratively and literally.

“Thank you,” Zuko mumbles. This moment isn’t a miracle fix, all of Zuko’s anxieties about spending time with Sokka’s father won’t be gone by morning, there is no magical cure and this won’t make it all go away. But this is a monumental moment all the same. A shift has just occurred, and the chasm between Zuko and Hakoda now has a bridge across it. A bridge that creaks and cracks and swings in the breeze, but a bridge. This is surmountable.

No one can tell how long Zuko and Hakoda stay like that and Hakoda is not going to be the one to break it, even as he feels his exhaustion pulling at him again. But eventually Zuko does back off, holding his turtleduck tight, and he sinks back down into the bed and doesn’t look at anyone.

“Goodnight, kids,” Hakoda says affectionately. “Sleep well.”

Hakoda closes the door behind him and Sokka pulls Zuko into him, bringing them together as close as can be.

“You okay, babe?”

Zuko can’t answer verbally, but Sokka can feel him nod.

“I love you,” Sokka assures him quietly. “And you don’t need to say it back if you can’t right now, okay? You can just nod or something.”

Zuko does the sign for “I love you” with his right hand and presses it hard into Sokka’s forearm. Sokka responds by kissing his shoulder, so Zuko assumes Sokka could feel it well enough to recognize it.

Sokka does, but it wouldn’t matter. He knows anyway. He doesn’t have to understand why, he doesn’t have to believe he deserves it, but he cannot doubt it. He knows Zuko loves him. Because Zuko stayed.

Zuko, illuminated by moonlight through the window and warmer than the sun. The heat of his skin is a solace, Sokka clutching him like he clutches his stuffed animal, so soft and adored.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

(Yes.)

Sokka hasn’t yet taken off that Skinny Puppy tee Zuko lent him. Zuko has started “stealing” Sokka’s hoodies. Important hallmarks of boyfriending.

Zuko relaxes his hand and then slips his fingers between Sokka’s, holding his hand so tenderly, circling his thumb against Sokka’s skin.

Sleep claims them both back and they make it through the rest of the night without further disturbance. They are still holding hands in the morning.

Chapter Text

“You ever just wanna get really drunk?”

It’s been over six weeks since the accident and Sokka is so fucking over this.

After two weeks he got his stitches taken out and then a proper fiberglass cast on, of which he is now on his third and hopefully final (and to no one’s surprise he has chosen blue every time, and he has taken plenty of pictures of all of his friends’ writings and doodles on them before each removal).

Teo has lent him an old manual wheelchair of his, and while it’s a bit small for Sokka, he must admit this has made a world of difference in terms of being able to do literally anything outside his apartment, even though every time he does go out he is reminded more and more of why all the accessibility work Toph and Teo do is so fucking important. It’s bullshit he’s had so much trouble getting around and it’s bullshit he can’t ever completely avoid stairs, and he knows it’s bullshit he only recently started thinking about this stuff and that far too many ableds never do, and he looks forward to doing everything he can to help Toph and Teo and their friends with their crusade once this is all said and done.

But for the time being, he is really tired of feeling. Like, at all.

Zuko has just gotten back to Sokka’s after a midday shift, and he brought a few bags of loose leaf tea with him (as well as a tea ball, which Iroh had been horrified to learn was not already a staple of Sokka and Suki’s home).

“Oh yeah, big mood,” Zuko laughs, setting down the collection in the kitchen.

“And you’re off tomorrow, right?”

“Umm, yes…”

“Okay,” Sokka says firmly, like that’s settled something somehow. “Impromptu party. I’m inviting everyone. We need a fucking break.”

Zuko is aware, though, that Sokka hasn’t been in the best emotional state, yet convinced he is meant to be the one and only caretaker and feeling terribly helpless and useless and burdensome needing to be taken care of, and isn’t necessarily sure drinking is the wisest of plans, but he also assumes a person isn’t typically going to get too shitfaced whenever their parents are staying in their living room (right?).

“Uh, shouldn’t you check with Suki first? And your…your dads?” Zuko is getting better at using the word dad for Hakoda again. He is getting better when it comes to Hakoda and Bato.

“Hmpf.” Sokka picks up his phone and shoots off some quick texts, and he looks miserable. “I just don’t want to think for a night, okay? I am so fucking tired of having to be so goddamn hyperaware of every single step I take!”

“Yeah, I feel you. Welcome to my life.”

“Fuck, Zuko, I—”

“No, no, no, no, no, that…that came out wrong. I just mean…I mean I understand. And it’s okay. You can talk to me about it. It’s not your fault and I know how you feel, I really do. I want to help, Sokka. I’m here.”

In all honesty, Sokka has no idea how Zuko lives with having permanent pain and mobility issues. He is still praying he is going to fully recover from this (he’s been warned he might have to go through physical therapy if the range of motion in his knee and/or ankle is too notably impacted, and that there’s a chance of him developing arthritis in this knee from the injury), but he thinks a lot about Zuko telling him he knows all about crawling up and down stairs and having to sit down during a shower. He thinks a lot about how this is normal for Zuko.

But on the plus side, if he does come out of this with any lasting damage, however difficult it is to entertain this train of thought at all, at least he’ll have Zuko by his side for not only his love and support but also guidance.

Sokka always feels so lucky to be loved by Zuko, but having him stay by him through Sokka’s recovery has meant more than he could ever say, and has brought them so much closer.

They’ve now been together for nearly five months and Sokka is more and more convinced by the goddamn hour that he is going to marry this man someday. Suki keeps on joking (anymore only when Zuko isn’t around) that if they were lesbians they’d be married already, and Sokka has finally had to admit he gets it.

***

They are having a party. Aang has promised to keep a careful eye on Sokka, having already volunteered to play the role of designated driver for Katara and anyone else who might need it.

Katara wants to watch out for Sokka, too, but after a rough shift in the ER, she’s ready to get fucking blitzed herself.

Hakoda and Bato are there for their shindig and actively participating, which Zuko finds unspeakably odd but doesn’t question (they are, after all, all adults here). Toph, Ty Lee, Mai, Haru, and Jin are all over, too. But not Teo, unfortunately, since he can’t get into the apartment, which Sokka has written to the property management company about several times by this point. He has no idea what the hell they could do about it, not sure what measures would even be possible to take to try to make this building accessible, but he fervently believes it’s worth making a big deal out of, anyway.

“Where’s Appa?” Aang shouts when Toph walks through the door with Haru and only Haru, and she and Zuko laugh.

“I brought my cane for if I really need it, but I should be fine here,” she shrugs. “But I’m pretty sure Appa’s like half the size of this tiny ass living room, Twinkletoes, so.”

“Hey!” Suki shouts defensively, obviously as a joke. “That’s only because your dog is fucking huge, not because Sokka and I can’t afford a real adult size apartment in this city!”

“You’re lying!” Toph calls back.

“Hey, Aang, when you get home, will you tell Momo I love him?” asks a tipsy Zuko.

“Of course,” Aang smiles.

“God, Zuko, how much have you had?” Katara teases and Zuko blushes and mumbles something inaudible.

“What was that?” Katara prods.

“Two tequila sunrises,” Zuko repeats, clearly embarrassed by how little it’s been.

“To be fair, Zuko would have said that completely sober, too,” Ty Lee makes note.

Mai smirks at them. “Fuck, Zuko, remember back a few years ago when we used to go out to bars all the time with Jet and his friends and you were, like, the lord of Long Islands?”

“Wait, what?” Sokka grabs Zuko’s hand, while Zuko is picking up his cigarettes to move to the kitchen window.

“Yeah, it was, fuck…Mai, Ty Lee, Jet, Smellerbee, Longshot, Duke, Pipsqueak, and me. We did so much karaoke at that one gay bar across from the Dai Li Boulevard entrance to Bosco Park. The place was pretty well known for its cheap Long Islands and, umm, I was kind of known for how many of them I could drink in a single sitting. These things were legit as big as my head and I think my record was five before I started really feeling it? Not that I stopped there that time, but…you know.”

“And then he walked home,” Mai adds. “That’s like two miles.”

“I was in a lot more control of my body back then.” Zuko shrugs but the sadness is evident in his voice.

“And I’m sure five-plus fucking giant Long Island iced teas helped with the pain aspect. Hell, I could have done that back then, too!” Ty Lee pokes Zuko on the shoulder and he sticks his tongue at her.

He’s pretty sure Mai and Ty Lee only went with him all those nights to keep him safe.

Zuko and Jet met at the tea shop and had pegged each other as outcasts and then sort of ran with that for a while. Zuko already knew he’s gay and Jet was starting to come to terms with his sexuality and Smellerbee had just come out as female and bisexual with a strong preference for women, so spending their nights at the bar made sense to them. Zuko had virtually nothing else in common with these people but he was down to go out with them to then get drunk and laid with strangers, as until he met Sokka he was sure he knew that was all he was ever going to get.

Mai and Ty Lee had no problem with most of Jet’s friends but a newly out and still riding his reputation as “bad boy”-Jet’s taste in men could be…concerning, to put it kindly. Zuko has considered that this probably didn’t end well for Jet either, but…

Jet had started bringing around a total bro named Chan, who Mai and Ty Lee detested, and then Chan’s friend Ruon-Jian and Zuko had a drunken night together that Mai had actively tried to prevent, which Ruon-Jian would later tell everyone confirmed to him he’s actually straight. But the worst part was that not everything that happened between them had been discussed at all before actions were taken and Zuko walked away pretty damn hurt, and on a physical level, too. But with both Zuko and Jet being so young and stupid, when Chan told Jet there was no way his friend would do something like that and tried to make excuses, Jet took Chan’s side. Not long after, he tried to apologize to Zuko but Zuko didn’t want to hear it, and both of their tempers flared and that’s when Jet got banned from the Jasmine Dragon.

After it was all said and done, Zuko was just grateful neither of his friends who’d been around for that ever said “I told you so,” but instead showed him nothing but compassion and support.

Zuko doesn’t miss those days.

Sometimes he thinks he does, sometimes he romanticizes the times of his life he let himself self-destruct in ways he somehow has too many people who care about him to get away with any longer, but thinking about it now, he realizes he really, really doesn’t.

“Eh, one day I’ll have to tell you about the time Suki and I went to Burning Man and then wandered off and got lost in the desert on mescaline,” Sokka says to Zuko’s strangely sad eyes, and it makes him laugh. “But wait, go back to Zuko doing karaoke?”

“I was, umm, a lot more fearless back then.” Zuko looks at the floor shyly. “And if anything, Ty Lee was probably the star of the show whenever we went. She sang an ungodly amount of Britney Spears, and everyone always loved it.”

And without missing a beat, Zuko, Ty Lee, Mai, and Aang all at once exclaim, “Free Britney!”

“Hey, can someone come with me to help add some shit to the playlist?” Toph requests, and Mai volunteers.

Suki has Spotify open on her computer on the kitchen table, hooked up to Bluetooth speakers in the living room, and she’s letting everyone add songs as they wish as they go.

“Ooh, nice nails!” Suki stops Mai, admiring her hands.

“On brand,” Zuko smiles, passing her to take his cigarettes to the window Sokka and Suki have agreed upon him using.

Mai’s manicure is very her, indeed. She has long, acrylic claws on all fingers except the index and middle of her right hand, which are kept short, mostly done up in black but with both ring fingers painted as the lesbian pride flag and both pinkies painted rainbow.

The music shifts from Red Lorry Yellow Lorry (as selected by Zuko) to The Damned (Hakoda), and Sokka shuffles his way with his crutches over to join Zuko while Katara and Bato get in line for the laptop behind Toph (adding Grimes, Bring Me the Horizon, Rammstein, and Babymetal) and Mai (adding Hole, Siouxsie and the Banshees, and Cradle of Filth).

All these personalities is certainly making for an interesting soundtrack, and there is roughly a one hundred percent chance Suki is saving this eclectic friendship compilation to her profile.

Zuko has already tossed a lot into the shuffle (Nine Inch Nails, Clan of Xymox, The Sisters of Mercy, Killing Joke, Alien Sex Fiend, Fields of the Nephilim, London After Midnight) and he added a bunch for Sokka, too (David Bowie, Every Time I Die, System of a Down, Tool, Coheed and Cambria, Talking Heads), and they got that part out of the way well before anyone arrived.

Ty Lee approaches the computer, too, blowing a kiss to Zuko, so he’s guessing that a ton of Britney is incoming. Not that anyone is going to complain about that.

As the night progresses, Katara becomes more and more preoccupied by having to stop Ty Lee from drunkenly performing party tricks she’s not supposed to do.

“Who wants to see the Beighton scale?” Ty Lee is gone and giggly and doesn’t even wait for an answer before she starts showing off by touching her left thumb to her left wrist, and then switching sides.

“Oh god, please, Ty Lee, I am begging you…” Katara is quickly burnt out by Ty Lee’s refusal to stand down, now exhibiting her ability to bend all of her fingers backwards by more than ninety degrees, but Katara—as a medical professional and as a friend—also cannot in good conscience just sit back and let her do this.

“No, no, wait, check this out!” Ty Lee then twists her right leg so that her foot is posed completely backwards, which has Bato shouting about how deeply grotesque he finds this, and then she loosens up so that her foot snaps back to its natural position, and she immediately repeats the display but on her left.

Katara looks like she’s ready to kill her.

Sokka is just sitting back and watching, also fairly (but not overly) drunk and laughing at his sister’s frustration and how at least he’s innocent in causing it this time, until it devolves into Zuko joining Ty Lee in laughing about the ways they can both move around their fucking kneecaps, and that makes Sokka freak out in brand new ways.

At some point Zuko had gotten in on it with Ty Lee, primarily by flicking his wrists back and forth in ways wrists are clearly not intended for and twisting his back and his fucking spine moving in ways it, too, was not meant to, all the while pointing out the terrible sounds they made simply by continuously calling out, “Cronchy!”

But then it’s kneecaps. And this is apparently an interactive experience, which makes it so, so much worse.

“Yeah, yeah, put your hand right there,” Zuko instructs Sokka, cackling like this is just hilarious. “Okay, yeah, right there’s good! Now press in and wiggle it around!”

“Zuko, that’s disgusting,” Mai says stiffly. She knows this is bad for him to do, and she is now also physically holding Ty Lee’s hands to stop her from doing this same thing to herself.

“Knees were a mistake,” Zuko shrugs, and Sokka snaps.

“Oh fuck, am I gonna be able to do that shit after this thing comes off?”

And then the way Katara freezes and the look she gives him makes him want to throw himself in front of a car all over again but have it fucking take him all the way this time.

He feels sick to his stomach as he abruptly pulls his hand away from Zuko’s leg, and Zuko isn’t laughing anymore.

“You’d be in good company!” Ty Lee answers with uncomfortably forced cheerfulness, which is fairly jarring considering cheerful is usually her default tone of voice. “Right, Zuko?”

Zuko, again, shrugs. “Yeah, honestly, that’s never felt like a very big deal, so if you—”

“Of course it’s not a big deal to you!” Sokka yells and Zuko jumps up and takes several steps back. “I don’t have a ‘cronchy’ fucking spine, I’m not—this isn’t me. This isn’t supposed to be me.”

Zuko does not panic, he takes a deep breath and represses all of the anxiety and self-loathing bubbling up. He didn’t expect to have to put on a show tonight, but Actor Zuko takes the wheel.

“I don’t think anyone ever feels like it’s ‘supposed to be’ them, Sokka, but it’s okay. I live—”

Sokka does not mean to say what he says next. Sokka does not want to say what he says next.

“I don’t want to live like you!”

And just like that, were it not for the music blaring in the living room, one would be able to hear a pin drop. Everyone stops talking. Everyone stops moving.

And then Zuko’s mask falls as quickly as he’d put it on, and to his own surprise he shouts right back. “Yeah, well, neither do I!”

Which completely contradicts what he was trying to say only a moment ago, but this is the truth and he hasn’t blown up and stormed off like an angry teenager in years and he thought he was past this kind of behavior, but the next thing he knows he’s grabbed all of his stuff out of Sokka’s room and is outside waiting for an Uber with no plans to go home.

No, now he just wants to get really drunk.

Sokka is holding his head in his hands, not looking at anyone, and horrified by what just happened.

Mai approaches him and he’s sure she’s about to scratch his face off with those nails of hers, and he can’t blame her when she quite tersely yells at him for being a “fucking idiot.” What he does not see coming, however, is her getting down and pulling him into a hug while she’s saying it.

“It’ll be okay,” she whispers. “He understands, believe me.”

“Where’s Toph?” Haru asks. He wants to go after Zuko, and he wants Toph to be there.

“She’s making out with Jin in my room,” Suki sighs, and Ty Lee can’t help but chuckle despite the surrounding tension.

Haru gets up and shakes his head, albeit with a tiny smile. “I’ll go get her.”

Sokka’s eyes start to ache and well. He has no idea what came over him. He has no idea what the hell that was.

“It’s okay to be scared, Sokka.” Aang sits down beside him and puts a hand on his shoulder. “And it’s okay to be sad about it. Angry, even. Your feelings are valid. That may not excuse you snapping at Zuko like that, but I know he’ll forgive you for it. He might just need a little time.”

“He shouldn’t have run out like that, either, though,” Katara tries, but she can’t actually be upset at Zuko for it. She’s concerned he did it, that he let his temper rise even that much like he never does anymore, but that’s all it is: concern.

“Toph is literally going to murder me.” Sokka’s voice cracks. He’s not attempting to joke.

“No, she’s not,” Mai aims for comfort. It’s weird. “She’s probably gonna be pretty pissed at you, don’t get me wrong, but she’ll get over it when Zuko does. Which he will.”

“Maybe he shouldn’t.” Sokka wants to storm off, too, but he can’t and that’s the whole source of whatever the fuck is going on right now, and he hates it and he hates himself and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t mean what he told Zuko but he knows he should never have said it and…

“I’m going to bed.” He can’t run out of the room, but he can still speak with enough conviction that no one stops him.

His room looks empty without Turtleduck or all of Zuko’s pill bottles. It feels empty.

But Zuko left the Skinny Puppy shirt and the rainbow pants. Sokka does not know what to do with this information.

Sokka punches himself in the arm. Hard. He hasn’t done that in a long time, but he isn’t thinking. He isn’t thinking about anything except for his stupid leg and his helplessness, and now he’s chased off Zuko and he can only hope this doesn’t end like it did with Yue, but if it does there is nothing he can do.

Suki follows not far behind Sokka, only giving him about a minute before she walks straight into his room without asking or even knocking. She sets a large glass of water on the nightstand and then sits next to him.

“Suki, please…”

“Come on, Sokka, drink, and get in bed. You don’t have to talk to me, but you are going to hydrate and we are going to cuddle, and in the morning we are going to figure this out.”

“Suki…”

“Sokka. Listen. I know you regret what you said. But I also know you were being honest. And I’m sure Zuko does, too. And that’s the problem. Not the outburst, but the fact you can’t accept not being the ‘strong one’ all the time. It’s not weak to need help, but who cares if it is. Having weaknesses isn’t the end of the fucking world. We all do. It’s human. So is needing help every once in a while, regardless of circumstances.”

“Suki, I can’t do anything. Anything. It isn’t right.”

“But you did do something. You most likely saved Toph’s life. That is not nothing. And sure, now you have to deal with some bullshit you’re not used to for a few months, whatever. This is the kind of shit some of our friends deal with every single day. If you do have any permanent damage from this, you might have to adjust to your new normal, but you will adjust and then it will just be…well, normal.”

“I fucked up, Suki. I really fucked up. I don’t know what to do.”

“You let me take care of you right now, that’s what you do. We’ll work on the rest tomorrow.”

Sokka doesn’t understand why he can’t seem to get it through his head that he’s permitted to need care from time to time. That Zuko has told him a million times over that he wants to take care of Sokka, too. And he should get that, considering that he himself also genuinely wants to take care of Zuko like he does.

Usually. Not tonight, evidently.

Suki shoves that glass directly in his face, pulling him out of his head.

“Seriously, dude, drink up. I know you really do not want to start your day with a hangover, too.”

And she’s right. She is so right.

***

Zuko’s phone is blowing up. The vibration in his pocket is getting real old real fast.

He’s not answering. He’s not even looking. Also why the vibration stays on, because he isn’t even putting the fucking thing in his hand. He isn’t touching it.

Upon arrival he rated and tipped his driver (Quin Li in a fucking Comet 100X, because how perfect is that), and then he put his phone in his bag and hasn’t picked it up since.

He just wants to be alone. He doesn’t want to think about any of the people he just walked out on. He just wants to pretend he’s okay.

No one he recognizes is here, thank god. Except for those gloriously cheap, large Long Islands.

“Hello, darkness, my old friend,” he murmurs to himself as he accepts his first order and nods to the bartender when they ask if he’s starting a tab.

It’s not even midnight yet. The bar is open until 2:00am. Maybe that will be enough time for him to destroy all memory of this evening. Maybe in the morning he’ll have lost what Sokka said and maybe Sokka will be fine simply pretending it never happened.

Zuko isn’t even mad. He’s really not. He’s hurt, yeah. That hurt a lot. But he isn’t mad. Because he can’t blame him.

He knows Sokka meant it, too. He has no doubt he didn’t mean to say it, but the words themselves were sincere. He understands Sokka has a painfully hard time being vulnerable. Although so does Zuko, and it would be much worse if he had any choice in the matter, and Sokka knows him well enough to know that. That he doesn’t have a choice, that he is forced to allow vulnerability due to his body’s limitations, and that must sound like a living hell to Sokka.

And Zuko isn’t sure Sokka’s wrong about that.

Hearing that out loud, though… Zuko knows he did the wrong thing by leaving, but he couldn’t stay. He couldn’t stop to process that and he couldn’t stand to be in that apartment anymore. Even this tightly packed dive feels much more open and free, despite his being objectively drastically more crowded around.

He finds himself looking around and simultaneously trying not to have any awareness of his surroundings.

He puts his head down and stares at his drink, his lighter, his hands. Anything but everything.

“Heh, look, that’s like…half a Deadpool,” some asshole laughs to his friends from Zuko’s right.

“Ha, ha, you know, that’s actually a new one.” Zuko looks at them, doesn’t even think about what he’s doing. “Points for originality, I guess, but please go fuck yourself.”

This is the last thing he needs.

He wasn’t lying any more than Sokka was: he seriously does not want to live like this.

He can’t think too much about the alternative at the moment, though, because if he did that then he knows Sokka would take all of the blame and would never be able to forgive himself, and Zuko can’t do that to him. He always wants to die on some level, and if he’s waited this long then there’s no reason it has to happen now.

He wants to cry but he can’t. He only feels safe enough to cry when he’s with Sokka, and he’s still only barely starting to learn how to do it then.

Also thank god this is still a smoking bar.

He sets his empty glass down on the bar and signals for another, and he misses more than once trying to light his next cigarette. He is not twenty-one anymore, holy fuck, but he’s not going to let that stop him.

He’s just tired. He is so fucking tired.

And sore. And sad.

He shouldn’t have left. He shouldn’t have come here. He could have made the slightest attempt at dealing. Everything is all wrong. And he’s made it so much worse than it needed to be, he knows he did.

Could have, should have, would have.

This is so fucking stupid.

But no one has ever accused him of coping well.

His tinnitus has turned itself up to eleven and he can’t do anything but wallow.

Weak and pathetic, just like Ozai always said.

***

“He’s still not answering,” Sokka says after trying Zuko for what his phone tells him is the fiftieth time. “This doesn’t feel right.”

Everyone has called him multiple times, and he hasn’t picked up for any of them.

“There’s nothing you can about it right now,” Suki replies. She’s worried, too, god knows, but it’s true, there is nothing Sokka or anyone can do.

Most people have gone home by now. The party died off after Zuko left.

A few have gone out looking for Zuko. But Suki hasn’t left Sokka’s side, neither does she intend to. She’s already made it clear she’s sleeping in Sokka’s bed tonight. He shouldn’t be alone.

“If anything happens to him…”

“If anything happens to him, it’s not your fault. Zuko’s an adult, you can’t control what he does. You’re not responsible for his actions.”

Katara pushes the bedroom door open and peeks her head in. “Hey, Aang and I are gonna get going. I’m sorry, I just…”

She interrupts herself with a loud, long yawn, and Sokka just nods.

“Hey, wait, before you go…” Sokka reaches his arm out, and Katara walks in and sits at the edge of the bed.

“What’s up?”

“Why did… Fuck, Katara, why did you think Zuko and I would be a good match for each other?”

Katara actually laughs a little, at which Sokka scowls.

She shakes her head and takes her brother’s hand. “Honestly? Because you two need each other. You’ve both been through so much and you’re both so used to giving but neither of you are used to getting. And I feel like that’s something you could help each other with. Learning to be loved, not just to love.”

“And you still feel that way?”

“Yes, Sokka, I do. You think Aang and I have never said shit we regretted in the heat of the moment? You think Mom and Dad never did? Or Dad and Bato? You’re not perfect. Neither is Zuko. But since you guys have been together I’ve kind of thought maybe one day he can help you see that what happened to Yue wasn’t your fault. That sometimes people just go through stuff that changes them, and you should already know that too well, yourself. But you know, he loves you. He does. And you’ve been so good for him, but that can’t cure everything. Just like being with him isn’t going to magically make all of your trauma disappear, no matter how good he is to you. You’re never going to fix each other, but you…you could make each other better. I think you already do. You have similar hearts, and you both deserve to be loved by hearts like yours.”

Sokka stares at her for a moment, like he’s waiting for a “but” to follow. It doesn’t.

“Thanks, Katara,” he finally says, and there’s no question of whether he actually found it in him to believe her. “I…I’m sorry. Uh, let me know if you hear anything? Please?”

“Of course.” Katara leans in to hug him, and Suki gives her room. “I love you. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Okay. If you say so.”

***

Zuko only makes it to three before the bartender refuses to serve him any more. Not that he is going to remember that.

He stumbles outside (having that third at all was a bad life choice) and immediately vomits all over the sidewalk once, and then twice. Not that he is going to remember that, either.

He rubs his arms, littered with new burns.

He can’t see straight and he can hardly hear anything. The whole world is spinning, moving in circles all around him. He throws up again.

He takes a few steps and falls. He doesn’t think he can get himself home from here and despite being completely blackout drunk he knows he isn’t going to risk throwing up in an Uber. So he slumps over where he sits, resigns to not being able to move.

“Zuko! Oh my god! I should have known we’d find you here.” Mai jumps out of Sokka’s car, and Ty Lee gets out to help. They both try to help him up, and his ass is only a few inches off the ground before he gets sick again and lands right back onto it.

“It’s okay, Zuko,” Mai whispers, and she traces gentle circles with her nails along his back. “You’re okay.”

“I’m going to let Toph know we found him,” Ty Lee tells Mai and then turns back towards the car. “Hakoda, can you call Sokka?”

“Come on, Zuko, I need you to get up so we can get you somewhere safe,” Mai encourages. “We’re going to get you home.”

“I don’t wanna live like this,” Zuko slurs. Mai keeps trying to help him off the ground but he isn’t budging.

“I know. I know you don’t. But we all love you just the way you are, and we want you to keep on living, alright? So you’ve got to move.”

“Should have stayed…”

“A lot of things should have gone differently, but that doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that we get going.”

“I want my mom.” Zuko is struggling to open his mouth enough to get words out, and they were difficult enough to understand with him in this condition, anyway.

He isn’t going to remember any of this.

“I know, Zuko. I know. But I— I need a little help over here.”

Mai hasn’t seen him look this bad after a night of drinking in a long time and she was really hoping to get him loaded into the car before he passed out, but it looks like that ship has sailed.

Hakoda has to get out of the car to help Mai get him into it since Mai won’t let Ty Lee help with Zuko being total deadweight like this, and then Mai sits in the backseat with Zuko’s head in her lap, making sure he stays on his side in case he vomits any more.

Zuko wakes up in the morning with a splitting headache and sour stomach, packages of acetaminophen and meclizine laid out on the coffee table with a bottle of Gatorade and a can of Monster Rehab, and the slow realization he’s somehow back at Sokka’s, and that he spent the night on the futon.

Chapter Text

Sokka didn’t sleep very much or very well.

He picked up his phone the second his dad’s caller ID appeared on the screen. And when he told Sokka that they found Zuko, it felt like the first time he’d breathed in hours.

Hakoda called again a few minutes later, letting Sokka know he was bringing Zuko back to his apartment, which Sokka had not considered a possibility.

“Does he—he wants to be here?”

“I couldn’t say, son,” Hakoda replied, and Sokka’s heart dropped. “Personally I’d take him to a hospital but Mai’s insisting that isn’t necessary, and she said she’s known him since they were children so I don’t like it but I’ve agreed to trust her judgment. But I can’t well take him anywhere I can’t get him into without his help, and apparently no one else has a key to his house…”

Sokka does. He doesn’t think to share this.

But he really wouldn’t want to see Toph, who has long since gone home herself, and he really wouldn’t want to be the one to barge in with Zuko in what sounds like a not so great condition, and she probably wouldn’t be too happy to see him, so it’s likely for the best he doesn’t.

“…So I’m not sure what other choice I have. Right now my main priority is making sure he doesn’t accidentally kill himself in his sleep.”

“He should go with Ty Lee,” Sokka countered. “She has an elevator, if he’s that out of it then that would probably be the easiest way to get him in, uh, anywhere.”

But Ty Lee was still a little too drunk herself, despite how sobering the night had become for everyone except for Zuko, and Hakoda wasn’t comfortable leaving him without supervision under someone who wasn’t actively intoxicated.

“And Mai said he’d want to come back.”

Sokka found that hard to believe, but he didn’t dispute it.

When they got in, Sokka had gone out to the living room to greet them. And maybe that was a mistake, because seeing Zuko was…

That was painful.

Hakoda got him laid out on the futon, face down, head turned outward from the back of the couch. He hadn’t bothered to pull it back out to its bed form, just wanted to get Zuko lying down. Zuko, who was completely unresponsive and smelled strongly of liquor and sick, and then even from this angle there’s his arms.

“Fuck,” Sokka sighed, biting back tears.

Instead of standing around feeling sorry for himself, he came as close as he can to running, to take the small garbage can out of the bathroom to put it in front of the couch for Zuko just in case.

And while Sokka didn’t sleep very much or very well, Hakoda flatout didn’t sleep.

No, Hakoda spent the night cleaning quietly or sitting and reading, casually listening and watching for any changes from Zuko. Because he is a dad and a caretaker through and through and he can’t turn it off.

Bato crashed in Suki’s bed since she was staying with Sokka, and that offer extended to Hakoda as well, obviously, but he wasn’t leaving Zuko alone.

“Mai said to make sure he takes his medicine in the morning, even the night ones,” Hakoda added before convincing Sokka to go back to bed. “She said no matter what he can’t miss a day of his…it started with an ‘L,’ shit…”

“Lamictal,” Sokka filled it in from there. “Yeah.”

Sokka remembers. Sokka has committed all of these details to memory. He has pages of notebooks dedicated to Zuko’s medications, their doses, their times of day, what they’re for. He’s good at that, at lists and schedules. He generally manages better with structure. Or at least, he’s pretty decent at it. He’s a lot better than he used to be. It’s a shame he hadn’t figured all that out back when he was still in school and couldn’t keep his focus on anything and no one could figure out why he was so often on the brink of failing. It’s not an infallible system, of course, and doesn’t tend to work for subjects or projects he doesn’t care about, and he is still as susceptible to the dark lords of executive dysfunction as anyone else who suffers with it, but he cares about Zuko so he’s learned and kept what he’s learned to the best of his ability.

And now Sokka is drowning in his debilitating rejection sensitivity, anxious and sad and lonely despite a sleeping Suki’s arms lovingly around him in support.

The first thing Zuko did when he first opened his eyes this morning (afternoon?) was to ignore the trash bin by the couch he legitimately didn’t notice and run like he’s never run in his life, thankfully making it to the bathroom before throwing up. He can barely find the strength to hold his hair back, shaking and gagging, and the way his throat burns from the get go brings back a vague awareness he did a fair amount of this last night, although with nothing resembling an actual memory attached. He doesn’t remember anything past ordering the second drink. He rests his head on his scarred side against the toilet seat between retches, choking and fighting just to breathe, and he has no clue how long he’s in there or how many times he vomits before his body finally feels like it has nothing left to expel.

He rinses his mouth out with water over the sink, which does little more than nothing, but that’s all he’s got.

And that took everything out of him. He drags himself back to the couch and flops into it, aching and overwhelmed. He smells awful and he needs a shower and a change of clothes and a washing machine desperately, but right now all he has it in him to do is lie down and stare at the ceiling.

“You need to take your meds.” Hakoda’s speaking to him. Because, right, he’s at Sokka’s.

“I…” Zuko doesn’t have much of a voice, but it’s alright; he has no idea what he was going to say.

“In your bag?”

“Y-yeah…”

Hakoda picks the bag up from the floor where he had dropped it in his hurry to put Zuko down, and passes it into Zuko’s trembling hands.

His head is heavy and spinning but he manages to get the pills down his throat, along with the pain reliever and antiemetic on the table. He probably should have taken that last one the second he saw it but, ironically, he’s not sure he’d have been able to keep it down long enough for it to take effect if he had.

“How are you feeling, Zuko?”

“No.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Zuko clears his throat, tries to bring his own volume up to something more easily intelligible. It hurts, but oh well. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe, son.”

“How mad is Sokka?”

“Why don’t we ask Sokka?”

Zuko closes his eyes and covers his face with his hands, and he tries to say no but Hakoda’s already up.

Zuko doesn’t take the turtleduck out of his bag because he doesn’t want to transfer his current scent onto it, but he feels exposed and defenseless without it. He feels cold somehow.

“Zuk—oh my god.” Sokka is too loud, he is much too loud, but Zuko is so glad to hear his voice he just grits his teeth and doesn’t comment about the continued throbbing in his head.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats instead.

“I’m sorry, too. You need a shower.”

“I know.”

“Get in the shower, then we can talk.”

Zuko is so relieved Sokka wants to talk to him that he doesn’t protest, hauling himself upright again much too soon and fighting to keep his vision in focus long enough to crash into the bathtub with the shower running. He doesn’t turn the light on and turns the water up as hot as he can take it, curled up on his side and shivering.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door, and then Suki announces herself.

“Sokka asked me to toss you some clean clothes. Can I come in? I’ll be quick and I promise I won’t look.”

“‘Kay.”

It might be funny the way Suki walks in, drops a set of his own forgotten pajamas on the floor next to the tub, and then spins around and speeds right out, one hand over her eyes the whole time, but Zuko didn’t see any of it.

He fumbles around the shower shelves without opening his eyes for the shampoo that’s actually his, because he’s come to spend that much time here, making just enough effort to cleanse the hair he knows he didn’t miss in the process of being repeatedly violently ill.

He doesn’t feel much less like he’s dying but the water is getting cold and he misses Sokka, so.

Sokka nervously taps his foot. He’d be pacing if he could, but he can’t, so he has to settle for sitting on the couch bouncing and wringing his hands and tapping his foot and fingers and whatever other fidgeting he can do without having to get up and with one leg.

Suki volunteered to go out and pick up some good hangover food for Zuko and comfort food for Sokka. Hakoda and Bato suggested accompanying her. Sokka appreciates the space and the privacy, but now he’s all by himself and all he can do is wait and overthink.

It’s been over six weeks since the accident and Hakoda and Bato are still here. He can’t stand them having put their entire lives on hold to come and take care of him while he recovers. He feels so fucking pathetic and useless and worthless.

He presses against his right knee and tries to wiggle it around the way Zuko’s knees do. It does not move like that, in fact, although he didn’t expect it to. It’s the one but he can’t touch under the cast that he’s worried about. So that attempt at a bit of reassurance wasn’t really good for anything. Just like he isn’t.

The living room currently reeks of Febreze. It’s a major improvement over what it had been before Zuko got up, but it’s rather overpowering. Sokka will have to ask Zuko to open a window. Since that, as well, is too goddamn difficult to do on his own. And that’s terrifying. Knowing this might not completely go away after he’s all healed otherwise is terrifying.

He’s chewing on his knuckles by the time Zuko gets out of the shower. Sokka does request he let some air in and Zuko quickly obliges, his headache visible by his facial expressions.

Because Sokka knows that face. Because Sokka has learned to read him well. Because Sokka is so incredibly in love with this man.

And on some level he knows he isn’t going to lose him if he loses any of his previous physical capabilities, but he can’t help but be afraid of what happens if it does turn out he can’t do things the way he used to and that means he can’t take care of Zuko like he wants to and that means Zuko doesn’t need him anymore, and that means Zuko won’t want him anymore.

But Zuko is here now because Mai insisted. Mai, Zuko’s best and oldest friend, someone he actually stayed in touch with after he left Ozai and Caldera and nearly everything about that part of his life behind, who knows him better than almost anyone else in the world, said he would want to be back at Sokka’s.

Zuko doesn’t look any better than he did before. The bags and discoloration around his eye says more than words could. He looks a bit unnaturally pale yet, too. And Sokka isn’t paying attention to the fresh burns. He isn’t. He can’t.

Zuko looks around awkwardly like he’s not supposed to sit with Sokka but doesn’t know where else to go. He could walk to the kitchen and pull a chair from there but that would only add to the thick discomfort in the air, so it only takes a few seconds for him to move himself to the couch next to Sokka, but maintaining another person’s worth of space between them.

“Zuko—”

“I’m sorry, Sokka.” His voice is rough, much raspier than usual, cracked. Shaking like his body. “I am so, so sorry and ashamed.”

He isn’t crying. He badly wants to cry.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Sokka replies, his eyes already brimming. “You scared the shit out of everyone, but I was…I was so afraid you… But I would’ve left, too. I get that. Well, I guess I actually don’t get that and it’s just hard to think I might have to but I shouldn’t have…I shouldn’t have chased you away like that, I don’t know what I was thinking, I don’t know why I… I’m sorry, Zuko. I’m sorry.”

I fucked up, I’m not good enough, I’m not good enough, I’m not good enough…

The tension between them is palpable. They are both doing their best to put their guards down, both of them scared of being so open and unprotected, but fully aware this is not a conversation they can successfully resolve with any walls between them.

They remove their armor piece by piece, dismantle the barrier brick by brick.

It’s been almost five months and they’ve never really had a proper fight before. It had to happen eventually, yes, but since they’re here now they have to either get over the hill or give up and neither of them are willing to do the latter, but facing that crossroads is harder than either of them could have expected.

“I don’t know how I can ever make it up to you.” Zuko stares at the floor. He isn’t ready to look at Sokka yet.

“Don’t ever do that again. Please. Like, that’s how. I mean, I just…I was really fucking scared. All I could think was the worst. And then they actually found you, and my dad wanted to take you to the emergency room, you were in such bad shape. Mai talked him out of it, but…”

Zuko has no fucking idea why Mai and Hakoda together were somehow the ones who picked him up and were apparently put in charge of what to do with him, but he is grateful for Mai. She’s seen him that bad before, she would likely have only been so worried after she saw him last night, and she would know how much he would have panicked and totally lost his shit if he’d woken up in an ER without context for how he got there. That’s happened to him a few times since the burn, and every time it takes him right back there and that would have been a disaster with everything else, not even to mention if they might have wanted to intervene about his arms.

“…I know he didn’t feel safe about it so he kind of stayed up all night to make sure you didn’t, like, you know, die—”

Sokka doesn’t know if he should be telling Zuko that, if it’s going to make things worse because Zuko is so perpetually anxious about making Hakoda hate him but also if it could make things better because that could tell him just how deeply cared for he is, but either way that’s now another thing Sokka just fucking said without thinking and it isn’t like he can take it back.

“Oh my god, he didn’t…” Zuko is bursting with shame and self-deprecation. He wants to hide. He wants to run. But he won’t do either. He won’t do that to Sokka again.

“He did, because he fucking loves you,” Sokka shouts. “Fuck, sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice, I just…”

“It’s fine.” It’s not fine. “You shouldn’t always have to walk on fucking eggshells just because I’m…”

Weak. Broken. Pathetic. Stupid.

“Zuko. I can’t promise I’m never going to get mad. I can’t promise I’m never going to say dumb shit or say things poorly. But I’m going to try. Because I want to. Because I want you. I love you, Zuko, I do, and I know I fucked up and I know it’s a lot to ask if you’ll forgive me for that right after but I…I don’t want to lose you and I want to fix this and I…”

“I forgive you.”

“What?”

“I forgive you.” Zuko looks up now, looks longer into Sokka’s bloodshot eyes than he can usually tolerate. He knows Sokka understands and never expects it from him, but it feels important to Zuko right now to at least look at Sokka’s eyes, even if he can’t hold what the neurotypicals would refer to as real eye contact. “I didn’t blame you for…for saying that. I know I overreacted, I shouldn’t have gotten so upset but—”

“Not everything is a hundred percent your fault, Zuko. Yeah, you worried a lot of people but no one really blamed you, either. You were allowed to be upset. You had every right to be. I know you, I know what you’re thinking, and you weren’t being stupid or weak or whatever. You were hurt. Because I said something hurtful.”

“But I—”

“Zuko, please.”

“I’m still sorry. I still fucked up and I still feel terrible about it.”

Sokka is, after all, still shaking his leg and playing with his hands. Sokka is still not entirely okay and he isn’t doing a very good job of hiding it, which means it’s a lot worse than it looks.

“We both regret last night. I just want to know how we get past it. Because I want to get past it. I know I don’t deserve it—” Shit, didn’t mean to say that. “But I…I fucking missed you. I guess that’s kind of weird, it was only one night, but…”

Zuko throws himself into Sokka and wraps his arms around him. His body moves heavily and harshly like he’s in the midst of crying his fucking eyes out, wrecked sobs catch in his throat but nothing comes out, his eye burns but it’s dry. He is breaking and he needs to take it that step further but he doesn’t and he can’t.

“I’m so sorry… I’m sorry… I don’t, I don’t want to live like this but I, I shouldn’t have left you, I’m so fucking sorry, Sokka, I’m sorry, I love you…”

He can’t control his tongue, can’t keep his mouth shut, and he can’t find the release he needs so this seems to be how his brain is going to overcompensate.

“I love you so much, I’m so sorry, please believe me, I don’t want to lose you, I…”

I don’t deserve you. I am only again going to hurt you. I don’t want to deal with me and it isn’t right for you to have to. You’d be so much better off without me. I’m sorry I came back. Maybe it would have been better if I hadn’t. It wasn’t my call but maybe I should have stayed away. Rip off the bandaid. Show you how much easier it’ll be if you don’t need to worry about me. I’m making this all about me.

“I love you, Sokka, I’m so sorry…” It’s all the same words over and over but he can’t shut it down, and Sokka just sits with him through it.

Sokka is just grateful Zuko is here, grateful Zuko could get over the mistake he truly believes should have cost him everything. But it didn’t. Somehow, it didn’t. Zuko’s staying.

“I love you, too,” the only interruption Sokka speaks, needing to say it back but in no rush to cut Zuko off. He has no problem just letting him go for as long as he needs.

Sokka has never been more self-conscious about how deeply fucked up he is and has never before worried so much about the ways his fucked up and Zuko’s fucked up could clash, but he has never felt closer to Zuko, either. They are both filled with shame and regret and self-hatred but they have each other and they care about one another in all the ways they could never care about themselves.

Sokka had feared those wings he had likened to Icarus’s were beginning to melt after all, but it was a false alarm. Sweat from the heat of the sun, that’s all. They remain intact and he has settled into a comfortable warmth.

It’s okay. It will be okay.

It hurts and it’s hard but they’re okay.

“I love you, too.”

Chapter Text

To know Sokka is to love him.

There isn’t much in the world Zuko can say with certainty, and most of what he does believe with full confidence is not kind.

Life is not fair. The world is cruel. Justice is rare. There will always be loss, will always be pain. Brains and bodies are built to fail.

And to know Sokka is to love him.

Unquestionable truths of the universe.

Zuko isn’t fighting it anymore. He isn’t any less afraid of putting his entire heart in Sokka’s hands, but there it is, beating between Sokka’s rough, warm palms, blood pumping dripping between his fingers. Zuko constantly has to argue with all the noise in his head about what it would be like if Sokka were to drop it. He simply wants to trust that Sokka won’t.

Sokka tells Zuko that he is like the sun. Zuko tells Sokka that he is like the stars: sparkling, a light in the dark, a source of hope, infinite, beautiful.

Sokka notes to Zuko that the sun is also a star, so he should remember all of this for himself, too. Zuko laughs and says that just means they belong together, to complete the sky.

It’s sappy and sweet and all part of a life Zuko can’t understand belonging to him.

Waking up in the morning next to Sokka at no point makes him stop waking up wishing he’d somehow died in his sleep, but it is a glorious experience all the same.

(And in fairness, it does help that he would never want Sokka to be the one to have to find his body were he to die. That’s just common courtesy.)

Sokka can’t forget what he said. Every time Zuko tries to hide a pain face, every time he loses his balance, every time a joint gets loud, every time a muscle twitches. Sokka thinks about it every time Zuko showers, knowing something as commonplace and unassuming as showering can be a scary and potentially dangerous experience for some people and that Zuko is one of them. Sokka learned a few days after the fight that migraines can be more complicated than he had ever dreamed, and he had previously never heard of a brainstem aura or a hemiplegic migraine but now he’s seen it happen and fuck…

He thinks Zuko is the bravest and strongest person he’s ever known.

Zuko is impressed by Sokka’s kindness and patience, although he wishes he didn’t feel so personally responsible for everyone’s but his own wellbeing. Sokka deserves the world, deserves so much more than Zuko can give him, and the worst part is that he thinks his only worth is in what he can give to others and doesn’t hold any inherent value by himself. Zuko wants nothing more than to show him how wrong he is.

The cast comes off in a week. This will almost definitely be when he transitions into a brace and then learns to wean out of that. He is so excited to be able to move his knee and his ankle again, to put any weight on his foot, but he is as scared as ever of the longterm consequences.

In his dreams, he gets hit again and again but he doesn’t push Toph quickly enough and she goes down with him. In his dreams, he survives with a broken leg but Toph doesn’t. In his dreams, Toph and Yue mock his ineptitude from beyond.

“You didn’t protect me,” Yue has told him at night for years. Toph now says it with her.

Hakoda and Bato will probably leave a few days after Sokka’s leg is freed. Give him some time to adjust and go back to normal, and then move on with their lives. Zuko no longer knows how he feels about this.

Sokka doesn’t want them to go. Ever. He has been so angry about them dropping everything and flying hundreds of miles on such short notice to come and take care of him like he’s a helpless fucking child, but now they’re going to leave him again and he doesn’t want to say goodbye.

You can’t have it both ways. Dumbass.

Ba Sing Se is one of the great cultural and business centers. New York City, Los Angeles, Chicago, Pittsburgh, Austin, Caldera, San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, Philadelphia, Ba Sing Se. The city is well known for its rich history and arts district. It has one of the best hospital systems in the world. It is an education powerhouse. And here one will find the best tea in the universe.

There are a lot of reasons it’s such an attractive destination. Katara moved here for school, because the University of Ba Sing Se has one of the best nursing programs anywhere. Ty Lee came here for the performing arts. Mai came for UBSS’s world renowned music theory and creative writing degrees (and, although she would only ever admit it to him, for Zuko). Aang came to study and later teach philosophy at UBSS. Suki moved here because the tech startup she was working for transferred her.

Iroh came here to get the fuck out of Caldera. He liked that it’s an old city with old roots, enjoys learning about its past and interacting with all the stories this city could tell. But first and foremost, he wanted to get as far away from his birth family as he could. He was always close to Zuko, but even in proximity he had never been able to protect him or help him. He would invite Zuko to stay summers with him here and sometimes Zuko would visit for a week or so at a time, but it was the most he could get out of Ozai and it was too painful to be around him. After the first time Lu Ten asked about Zuko’s injuries, Iroh broke. He couldn’t protect Zuko but he could protect his original son. It was just the two of them and they had already distanced themselves from the “family” and its money. Packing up and leaving it all behind wasn’t that difficult. It broke Iroh’s heart to walk away from Zuko and he has always regretted this, but he doubts Zuko’s early childhood would have gone any differently had he stayed in Caldera or anywhere in California.

But Iroh took the first flight out when he got the call about what did happen. He knew then he was never leaving Zuko behind again. He hadn’t been able to provide for Lu Ten the way he would have liked, and he hasn’t always been sure he could do any better by Zuko, but he knew no matter that he wasn’t going to ever let anyone hurt him like Ozai did ever again.

Zuko was really going to try to crawl to him. Lost, scared, and delirious, what else was a kid to do. He shouldn’t have survived as long as he did, much less a trek a completely healthy and unharmed person would never be expected to make without transportation.

But it truly is a miracle Zuko was alive when the nearest neighbor found him. When the only words he could speak when he was coherent at all were “Uncle Iroh.”

Iroh believes in fate, in destiny. He believes everything happens for a reason, believes there is no such thing as coincidence and to always expect the unexpected.

Zuko didn’t have many neighbors in his rich neighborhood full of mansions. It wasn’t Ozai’s only house or his largest house, but it was the one they stayed in during the school year for convenience. It’s lucky, that. It’s the only of Ozai’s houses where there would have been any hope of Zuko being found.

But he was. By someone who recognized Zuko and remembered Iroh.

This could not have been by accident.

Iroh had spoken to Ozai once since he left the state and before the burn. Once. After Ursa left. He didn’t even call Ozai when Lu Ten died. He told Zuko, but he didn’t even bother to hold that conversation with his younger “brother.” But when he called after Zuko told him Ursa was gone, he requested to take Zuko. Because he knew, he knew Ursa had been Zuko’s only saving grace in that house. He had tried to appeal to Ozai’s cruelty, tried to argue that now that he was a single parent it could help to be free of the child he was always so concerned with “having to” “discipline,” that it would be easier if he didn’t have to “worry” about Zuko.

Ozai saw right through him, however, and adamantly refused to surrender custody. He still had lessons to teach him, he said. He needed someone to take his anger out on more than ever before and there was no one better than the child who took after the woman who ran out on him, was the real story Iroh heard.

After he burned Zuko, though, he stopped caring. “There is nothing more I can teach him. He’s no good to me. Go ahead, take him. The worthless bitch is your problem now. Pass down to him the ways of tea and failure. Don’t ever let me see his face again. Well. What’s left of it.”

He had laughed. That is the last time Iroh and Ozai spoke, and it’s staying that way.

He had laughed about what he’d done, while Iroh had been at that exact moment in time sitting at Zuko’s bedside and wondering if he was going to live. It felt like forever before there was any kind of certainty about whether or not Zuko would live.

Iroh will never forget the feeling of seeing the soldiers at the doorstep to the Jasmine Dragon after close. It hurt, too, knowing that Lu Ten never wanted that life. He just wanted to be able to afford to go to college, and Iroh could never have given him that. So Lu Ten felt he had no choice but to give into the predatory recruitment ploys and assumed he’d do his time and get out, then he’d get into a university and try to forget it ever happened. He wasn’t proud of it but he hadn’t seen an alternative. Iroh had tried to talk him out of it, but he had big dreams and was desperate to chase them. But he wasn’t supposed to be a soldier. What he wanted was to become a historian, a shared interest with Iroh. But that was, apparently, never meant to be.

Iroh will equally never forget the feeling of a number he didn’t know with a Caldera area code calling, and just knowing it was about Zuko, and that something terrible had happened.

“I’m so sorry, is this Iroh? Oh thank god I remembered the name of your store correctly, I had to Google it… I’m so sorry to call you like this, but I didn’t know what else to—”

“Is Zuko okay?”

“I… No, I…I’m sorry, I don’t know how to say this but I don’t think he is. He’s been hurt. I’ve called 911 but I…I can’t tell how bad it is because I’m afraid to try to move him… I found him outside, I don’t know what happened… I think he’s unconscious but it looks like he’s breathing? I’m so sorry, he did say your name when I first saw him, but now he…”

“I’m leaving right now. I will be there as soon as an airline can get me there.”

Iroh is fairly certain that poor woman, who had only intended to go out for a jog that evening, has never been the same again after finding Zuko and having to make that call.

It was awful, but it was destiny. It should never have had to come to that, to get Zuko out of that house, but it at least did get him out.

And Zuko survived. All odds were against him, but he survived. Because he was meant to.

Everything happens for a reason. Zuko doesn’t tend to believe this, but Iroh has no doubt.

And one should always expect the unexpected, because destiny is a funny thing and the universe has a sense of humor, even if it can often be hard to get the joke.

Sokka drove to the Jasmine Dragon today. It’s not exactly easy for him, his left leg uncomfortable and distracting, but he can and it’s a short drive and he wanted to.

Zuko is working. Hakoda and Bato are with him.

Hakoda and Bato are, unfortunately, not city people. They love their hometown, their small village where they mostly live off the land and everyone pretty much knows everyone. Sokka and Katara love it, too, but neither of them were meant to stay there. They are always happy to see it when they visit, but it isn’t where they truly belong. And the opposite can be said of Hakoda and Bato. They love to travel and they love to visit the city, but the village is where they are supposed to be.

Zuko has gotten to know them fairly well by now. It’s been a journey, but he thinks he’ll be sad to see them go, too. He isn’t completely comfortable around them yet but it helps more than he could ever say that they don’t expect him to be. They have been so caring and compassionate, and Zuko is so grateful Sokka grew up so differently from how he did. Hakoda is what Sokka deserves. Always having had Hakoda is what Sokka deserves.

Zuko has a migraine. Sokka knows. He’s been downplaying it, but it’s there. He’s had it for days. He had to explain to Sokka that the medication he takes to treat an active migraine is, unfortunately, contraindicated for brainstem aura migraines and would therefore only be a waste if he were to take one. He’s not sleeping well, either, which isn’t helping.

But Sokka is more aware than ever of how poorly Zuko is sleeping because of how regularly he’s been lying awake right with him.

He can’t forget what he said. And he sees Zuko shying away from light, hissing at his own slight movements, struggling with coordination and motor control.

He doesn’t understand how Zuko could have forgiven him for it so easily. He can’t forget about Zuko walking away, leaving like his dads are soon to do, too, like Katara did when she moved out first, like Yue did when she walked into the river, and it’s such a miserable fucking feeling but he can’t forget what he said.

And he wants to stop being so scared that Zuko will decide he can’t, either. And he wants to stop being scared of what happens when he goes back to the doctor and has to resume his life as he previously knew it, if his life can resume as he previously knew it.

He wants to stop being so scared.

But Zuko isn’t mad. Zuko doesn’t hate him. Toph doesn’t, either. No one is leaving him, not in any way they can’t return from.

Sokka is in the back of the shop with Zuko. Iroh doesn’t mind. Sokka is, perhaps, being a little clingy, but he wants to see Zuko here with him. He wants to be sure it’s all okay.

He brought Hakoda and Bato so he can spend what time he has left with them together, as well, so he just keeps going back and forth (with thanks to Teo). It wasn’t as hard to say goodbye the last time his dad left because the trip was so short, there was no time for it to feel like any more than it was. But this time it feels like they shouldn’t be leaving. This time their upcoming absence feels somehow personal.

Zuko is washing dishes while Sokka keeps him company. Zuko takes his job seriously and never takes it for granted, and he never wants to abuse his position as the boss’s son, but he will happily take advantage of this perk of working for his dad. They kiss in the kitchens, and Sokka stays as close as he can. He wishes he could make Zuko’s pain go away. He wishes he could do anything.

“Babe, you look like you’re gonna fucking pass out, seriously. Please, let me help.”

Sokka isn’t exaggerating. Zuko starts swaying if he stands still for more than a second at a time and it’s easy to notice how his eye can’t hold focus, and the erratic movement of it. He shouldn’t be standing at all, but he refuses to ask for a break or time off that wasn’t scheduled.

Sokka catches how much better Zuko presents himself as looking whenever anyone else, including Iroh, can see him. He realizes Zuko isn’t hiding it from him. He isn’t sure if Zuko even realizes it, that he isn’t performing for Sokka at all anymore. Sokka wishes he didn’t keep hiding it from everyone else, but he is amazed he is such a safe person to Zuko.

“You are helping.” Zuko kisses Sokka, again and again. He worries he’s being a bit clingy, but he just wants him by his side whenever possible. He loves him, and he trusts him like he never thought he could trust anyone who wasn’t Iroh or Toph, or maybe Mai. “You’re here. That’s all I need from you.”

The words coming out of his mouth…

It’s so sappy and sweet and surreal.

Iroh believes in fate and destiny, that everything happens for a reason. Nothing happens by accident. Anything can happen. Expect the unexpected.

“Iroh?” Zuko hears a familiar voice from the front. So familiar, a voice he hears in his head every single day. He shudders.

“Zuko? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing, I’m fine…”

“Iroh, is that really you?” It sounds so much like…

But that’s impossible. Zuko knows that’s impossible.

Ba Sing Se is a popular destination. Tons of people find themselves here for tons of different reasons. It has so much to offer.

Zuko tenses, grips the countertop in front of him.

“Zuko, seriously, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, I…”

He doesn’t know how to explain it. His knuckles are white, his eyes closed.

Anything can happen.

The universe has a sense of humor.

Zuko never gets the joke.

“Zuko, come out here, please,” Iroh calls for him. Zuko doesn’t respond.

“I’m here, babe. Whatever it is, I’m here.”

Zuko nods. He steels himself, straightens up, pushes it all down. Customers await. This is no time for…whatever the fuck that was.

“Just a second, Dad,” Zuko calls back.

He almost thinks he hears that same voice react to him referring to Iroh as his dad, as though that isn’t common knowledge. Whoever’s out there must not be a regular.

But Zuko doesn’t recognize the voice. Well, he does, but—no, he can’t.

Sokka squeezes Zuko’s hand, and follows Zuko out to the front.

The first thing Sokka notices is how the person in front of Iroh stares at Zuko’s scar. He’s seen people glance and look away, he’s seen people glare but have the decency to pretend they didn’t. But no, this is staring. And the face, the face being made in response…

Sokka wants to say something, to point out how fucking rude it is to gaze like Zuko is some goddamn spectacle for their entertainment, but he looks to Zuko first, to try to gauge his reaction.

Zuko is staring back, his mouth wide open and tears streaming down his cheek. He looks like he’s barely breathing.

“Zuko?” the stranger’s words catch in her throat, and immediately transforms into a sob. “Oh my…oh my god, Zuko?”

Her hands are shaking as she reaches towards him, and Sokka watches and tries to piece together this puzzle, doesn’t know how to react but then he gets a good look at her face and—

Destiny is a funny thing.

Zuko forces himself to breathe.

“Mom?”

Chapter Text

Zuko has searched for his mother every single day since he first came to Ba Sing Se. Every single day. He never thought he was going to see or hear from her again. He never thought he would find her. And he didn’t.

But by sheer chance, she found him.

Unsure what the hell else he’s supposed to do with himself right now, and trying not to cry in public any more than he already has, he takes the first and only option his brain provides him.

“Umm, this is my boyfriend, Sokka.”

“Hello, Sokka,” she smiles. “I’m Noriko. I’m, uh, Zuko’s mother.”

So she did change her identity.

“Noriko, huh?” Zuko doesn’t know what else to say. “That’s, umm…that’s a nice name.”

“Oh. Ah. Right. I’m sure you understand why—”

“Of course.”

“But you didn’t—”

“I didn’t. I thought about it but I, umm, I didn’t want to give up the name you gave me.”

“Oh, Zuko. But you…you did get out?”

“Yeah, yeah. When I was a teenager. A lot happened. Or maybe not, like, a lot, but it feels like a lot. But I guess, you know, nothing you wouldn’t expect.”

She’s staring at the scar again. She reaches out as though she wants to touch it, but she stops herself. “Zuko… Zuko, your father, did he—”

“He’s not my father.”

“Did Ozai—”

Zuko notices Hakoda and Bato both shift, and he assumes they just made the connection to who his birth father is.

Also reminding Zuko they have an audience. He should care, but in this whirlwind of what is happening and how is this even real and the minor disbelief any of this is, in fact, occurring in real life, that is simply not possible.

“Yeah. Yeah, he did.”

Zuko had found his one solace in living all these years without her by being grateful she never had to see this face. And now, that’s gone.

He doesn’t know how he feels about this. Any of this. He doesn’t know how he feels seeing her again. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with it.

He has missed her so much, has wanted with all his heart to see again for sixteen years, but now that she’s here he doesn’t know…

He just doesn’t know.

“What are you doing here?”

His head hurts, it hurts so much, he feels like he’s going to be sick, it’s so hot in here all of a sudden…

Ursa—Noriko—whatever averts her eyes, contemplating her response.

Sokka is genuinely worried Zuko is about to fall over. He looks so much like he did that first night Sokka stayed at the apartment above them, the night that solidified in his mind he could never leave Zuko, and Zuko has been so sick with this migraine. Sokka hates seeing him like this. He knows it comes with the territory, but he wishes he could fix it. And he isn’t sure if this is going to help Zuko or hurt him.

“My, umm…” She is nervous, herself. The resemblance is remarkable. “My husband and I are in the touring production of Love Amongst the Dragons. And it’s playing at the Salai Theatre all week. So, here I am.”

She does theatre now. That’s amazing. She always loved it. Something he has often tried not to think about whenever he’s doing it. But they read that play together all the time, he’s never forgotten it’s her favorite. He should tell her how exciting that is, what she’s here for. He should tell her about what he does, and what Sokka does.

But that’s not what comes out.

“Your husband? You have a husband?”

She nods, and Sokka can see the wheels turning. He reaches for Zuko’s hand. He is relieved Zuko takes it.

“Does he hurt you?”

Zuko’s heart is beating out of his chest and he can’t even entirely blame his mother’s surprise appearance because he was feeling like shit already, but god knows now it’s a billion times worse. He doesn’t want her to witness how bad it gets, though. She can’t miss the scar, she’s had to see that, but she doesn’t need to know how much more there is than meets the eye.

“Mom,” the word feels unnatural now, like it isn’t his to use. The woman in front of him is practically a stranger to him, but he has missed her so much and has longed to be able to speak to her, to call her that again. “Mom, does he…”

“No. No, Zuko, Ikem is a good man, he would never lay a hand on me or…or our daughter.”

“Daughter?”

“Yes, we have a daughter. Kiyi. She’s back home, with Ikem’s parents. What about Azula? Your sister, Zuko, did she get out, too?”

So Azula is his sister in her mind, but her other daughter isn’t? He imagines this exchange has to be as painful for her as it is for him (they always were so alike) and maybe he’s reading too much into her phrasing, especially when it comes to a child he’s never met, but it stings.

Zuko shakes his head. His surroundings blur. “No. Not when I did, anyway. I don’t know where she is now. I have a sister. It isn’t her.”

Noriko looks intensely saddened to hear that. Zuko looks so much like her in that expression.

The biggest difference Sokka sees between them right now is that while Noriko looks unnerved and still a little shaky, Zuko is vibrating. Sokka really wants to pull him away, to make him sit down and take a breather, but he can’t do that to him, not in this.

Iroh, thankfully, does make a good suggestion in the interest of privacy. “Zuko, why don’t you show your mother our home? Perhaps it might be better for you to catch up there.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. Good idea. Thanks, Dad.”

“I’m coming, too.” Sokka doesn’t think before he speaks and he doesn’t know if he’s welcome or if he’d be intruding but he can hardly even try to figure out what all must be going through Zuko’s head right now and he doesn’t want to leave him.

No one responds, but no one tells him not to follow, and in this he decides that’s just as good as a yes.

Zuko lets Sokka go first. Sokka parks Teo’s old chair by the stairwell and Zuko folds it up and rests it against the wall. Zuko holds Sokka’s crutches while he works his way up, and watching out for Sokka at least gives Zuko something else to focus on.

But behind Sokka, he hugs the wall as he ascends.

Toph is in the living room with The Good Place on the television, and she is startled by Appa rushing over to Zuko, who continues relying on the nearest wall for support, now leaning into one with his back against it.

Appa is pawing at Zuko like he’s trying to tell him something, and Zuko is pointedly ignoring him.

“This is my sister, Toph,” Zuko gestures towards the couch. “And uh, this is her guide dog, Appa.”

“Just mine, huh?” Toph doesn’t hold back, especially as Appa is currently aggressively attempting to assist Zuko, but Zuko doesn’t justify that with a response.

“Toph, meet my…meet my mother.”

“Holy shit.” Toph is as blunt as ever, and she quickly turns off the TV. “So is that why Appa wants you to lie down and does it have anything to do the fact you’re not fucking listening?”

“No, Toph, it’s fine, I’m fine.”

“I know you’re lying. Hey, Boomerang Boy, tell me the truth.”

“He’s also had some really fucked up migraines the past several days, he wasn’t looking good before, either, but…”

“Sokka, please.” Zuko is fine. He has to be fine. He doesn’t want her to know. He doesn’t want her to see. He doesn’t want to have to explain. She doesn’t need to know any of this.

She got out earlier and now he knows her life wasn’t ruined to the same extent Zuko’s was. He doesn’t want her to have to consider what happened when he didn’t have her anymore.

Although it would probably be easier to accomplish this if he would just sit down, but he needs to perform like it isn’t necessary. Appa wants him to not be upright at all, doesn’t even want him sitting, and he can’t show that.

“Zuko, stop being a stubborn asshole,” Toph says gently, a tone which does not at all match her words but makes sense coming from her. “I can fucking feel your heartbeat from here.”

“Zuko?” Noriko is clearly confused and concerned, which is exactly what Zuko doesn’t want. He can’t really make out her face, though, with everything in his vision looking overlit and blown out and distorted.

He has dreamed about this moment so many times but he never thought the day would come. But it has, she’s here, and it’s all wrong.

Neither Sokka nor Toph are at all shocked when Zuko drops, both of them well aware this was an inevitability as he was blatantly disregarding the warnings, and Sokka reaches out and does all he can to keep him from falling too hard while still holding on to one of his crutches.

Someone is now going to have to help him up, too, since he ends up sliding onto the floor in paying more attention to Zuko than himself.

Toph just goes into the kitchen to grab water, meanwhile Appa is licking Zuko’s face, as he has been trained to do in this situation.

Sokka guesses Noriko must feel the same way he did when he first found out this is a somewhat normal occurrence for Zuko, but he isn’t worried about her right now. Just because he knows Zuko is okay doesn’t mean he’s going to pay attention to anything or anyone else.

Zuko opens his eyes and tries to blink away all the black still polluting his sight and waiting for the screeching in his head to quiet back down to the usual ringing. He feels Sokka’s hands and Appa’s tongue.

“Good boy, Appa,” Zuko mumbles with a weak pat on Appa’s side.

“Don’t you dare get up,” Toph scolds him. Sokka laughs, because it’s so obvious Zuko was just going to go straight back to pushing himself to try to make himself look “better.” She asks Sokka to take the water from her and pass it along, and Noriko simply doesn’t react to anything.

She probably never imagined getting to see Zuko again, either. And if she had, it surely did not look anything like this.

But she is there now, and he’s a little out of it, so for the first time since he was ten years old, he reaches for her as though no time has passed, like he is still a child and over one and a half decades and a whole new family or two does not separate his last memory of her with this one.

“I missed you so much,” he chokes, and she kneels down to embrace him. Sokka tries to shuffle out of the way, and Toph is the one to gravitate towards him and help him stand, and they both move to the couch because they get they aren’t part of this but they are also sure as hell not leaving Zuko.

Zuko, at the same time, has an Appa at his side and an estranged mother in his arms and quickly contradicts his previous statement by saying, “I never wanted you to have to see me like this.”

It’s all coming out now.

Something, something, destiny.

“I’m gonna put some tea on,” Toph decides out loud. Sokka stays where he is. Even if he could move easily, he wouldn’t.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Noriko tells Zuko. “You have to believe me, Zuko, that there has not been a single day I didn’t regret leaving you. But you know I had to, I only did that to protect you…”

“I know. But you shouldn’t have. He almost killed me, anyway. It might have been better that way.”

Noriko softly brushes her thumb along the very outermost edge of Zuko’s scar.

And then, they talk.

He tells her everything. Everything. He doesn’t want to, it hurts to know this will hurt her, but he can’t not.

It’s all coming out now.

Sixteen years of wishing and hoping but never quite believing…

Zuko didn’t think he’d be telling these stories to anyone else again so soon after admitting them to Sokka those months ago. He absolutely didn’t think he’d ever be telling them to her.

Destiny is a funny thing. Expect the unexpected.

Iroh does tend to be right when he’s spouting off his various brands of wisdom, even though that has for some reason always been nigh impossible for Zuko to accept.

But Iroh believes in the impossible.

Case in point: this.

Turtleduck is currently at Sokka’s, as Zuko will be sleeping there again tonight, so he can’t show her. He does tell her that he still has it, though. He doesn’t expect that to make her cry. It does.

Not that she wasn’t already crying, but it unmistakably adds to it.

Much like when he told Sokka about himself, Zuko doesn’t cry but the other party does, and just holds him through it.

Hearing everything Zuko went through after she left, it’s all of her worst fears made real. She’s always wondered if she did the wrong thing, even though she has never once doubted that Ozai really would have killed them if she had done anything about that night any differently. It’s still plagued her ever since, however, wondering how the children she assumed she’d never see again were faring in her absence, and fearing for Zuko’s safety every single day.

But at least Zuko got out, and only three years after her. Far longer than would have been ideal, but sooner than she could have guessed. She is so grateful to Iroh for taking him in, for giving Zuko the father he deserves and she only wishes she could have given him from the start. She married the wrong man, and it hurts that her children had to suffer for that, too.

She knows she wasn’t perfect. She knows she could probably have sought out Zuko intentionally after he turned eighteen. She’s sure she should have. But she’s never stopped being terrified of Ozai, and she’s only human.

And Zuko understands.

Zuko tells her about Iroh getting him into theatre camp as a teenager, how he’s never stopped performing. He tells her how he met Sokka.

Sokka, who he could never have done this without. He has no clue how he would have reacted if he hadn’t been here, but for as much of a disaster as this started off, it could have been infinitely worse. He’s not sure he would have been able to speak to her at all, and he would have regretted that for the rest of his life.

Toph brings tea out for Zuko. She doesn’t even pretend she’d intended to get tea for anyone else. Noriko thanks her for being another person who’s taken care of Zuko. Toph doesn’t know what to say, so she says nothing.

“Peppermint tea,” she whispers to Sokka, sitting back down with him. “Not a cure, but it can help ease migraines and nausea a little. And Dad always gives it to him when he has one, so now it’s also a comfort thing. Just a pro-tip.”

“Thank you,” Sokka replies. That is good to know, but he is so grateful nothing between them has changed since the night she ran out of his apartment to try to find her brother and her preoccupation with Zuko’s safety being the only thing keeping her from tearing Sokka a new asshole. But she isn’t mad. She even still likes Sokka. It was just a weird night, and shit got out of hand.

For that matter it’s been a weird week, and none of them have any clue what to make of it.

And Toph has tears streaming down her face. Toph is watching her brother get the reunion he’s always wanted with the one biological parent who loved him, and she is happy for him and that’s emotional all by itself but she is also trying to silently handle knowing she was never genuinely loved by either of her birth parents. She doesn’t mind most of the time because she does have a family who loves her, the best dad and brother she could ever ask for, but this brings up some feelings she’s for the most part dealt with but now she’s reminded they may never fully go away.

Sokka without thinking wraps an arm around her, and she doesn’t stop him.

“You. Tell. No. One.” She still has to protect her image, her rough exterior hiding the softness and vulnerability she’s afraid to admit to. Sokka understands that part too well.

“Yes, sir.” That’s become a sort of joke between them now. They have jokes between them, because she cares about him. And she firmly believes he is going to be around for the long term. And she wants him to be.

“Does it ever stop haunting you, hearing about or, fuck, knowing about Zuko’s childhood? Does it ever get easier?” Sokka keeps his voice down, but he’s not sure he needs to. Watching Zuko it’s clear that, to him, there is no one else in this room besides him and Noriko.

“No,” Toph leans into Sokka a little closer. “No, it doesn’t. At all. But you don’t get to use what he’s been through as an excuse to downplay what you have. Don’t play the ‘I think he had it worse so mine doesn’t matter’ game. No bullshit pain olympics. He hates it when I do that, and he hates it when you do it, too.”

“He told you that, did he.”

“Not in so many words. Just…call it a feeling.”

“A feeling?”

“I told you, having stronger senses to make up for not having one isn’t always a myth. I was born blind and I wasn’t taught shit, until I came here I had to learn anything I knew about how to take care of myself and navigate the world all on my own, and I’ve adjusted damn well if I do say so myself. So, sometimes…I just know. Like, sometimes I can feel another person’s slightest movements or breaths or heartbeats well enough I can figure out when there’s something they’re not saying. Zuko hasn’t told me anything about your life’s story, he’d never do that, but he’s told me how much you care about him and I could tell. Just trust me.”

“So what, you’re fucking Daredevil?”

“Daredevil is an exaggeration, but I’ll take it.”

Sokka is not sure he believes the Daredevil comparison is genuinely exaggerating much or at all. Hell, Matt Murdock might have nothing on her.

“So…how is he feeling right now?”

Currently Noriko is telling Zuko about her husband, about how she moved back to her hometown after she left Ozai and got back in touch with her childhood best friend, and they ended up falling in love. How she is happy and cared for and unharmed. And how she and Ikem shared their love of theatre and encouraged each other to follow their dreams, which is what’s brought them here now and led her to Zuko.

Everything happens for a reason, Iroh says. And Noriko had always adored Iroh.

Toph looks pensive. She really is taking the time to read him and assess. “I think he’s confused. He’s as happy as he is sad. And he still feels sick as hell and isn’t planning on doing anything about it, but he’s a lot more relaxed than he was, so at least that’s an improvement.”

“You got all that?”

“Yeah. But he’s my brother. I get him.”

Sokka breathes out a joyless nasal laugh. “Okay, well, how am I feeling, then?”

Toph doesn’t hesitate. “You’re scared.”

And she’s not wrong, but…

“Oh really? And what, pray tell, am I scared of?”

“I can read unseen body language but I’m not fucking psychic, dumbass.”

There’s a tense pause between them, and Zuko is still too immersed in speaking to his mother to notice anything else going on.

Sokka doesn’t miss the way Zuko hugs himself, though, whenever Noriko isn’t touching him, the way he instinctively tucks in his arms. He’s wearing long sleeves because he was working, that’s normal, so she wouldn’t be able to see anything anyway, but the move to hide them isn’t voluntary. He’s been pouring his heart out to her, but she doesn’t need to know about the extent of the damage to his mental health, doesn’t need to hear about the self harm or the suicide attempts or any of his history of unhealthy coping mechanisms. That is decidedly over the line of information she should have.

He’s telling her everything, but not everything.

“Well, Sokka, what are you scared of?”

“A lot, I guess. About my leg. About people leaving. About how fucking much I love him, about losing him. I don’t like to talk about it, but my first serious partner took her own life. She’d been through some shit and it really messed her up, and I thought I could get her out of it and I couldn’t. And then there’s Zuko, and the hell he’s lived that is the worst thing I have ever heard in my life, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to be what he needs. If I couldn’t help Yue, then…”

“Let me stop you right there, my dude.” Toph puts a hand on Sokka’s, and doesn’t even make a defensive comment about it.

“First of all, Zuko is a mess. He has always been a mess. You cannot make him a mess, you found him that way. But you also cannot fix his mess. You can’t fix anyone who isn’t yourself. I don’t know anything about Yue, but you not being able to help her sounds like her problem. And you know what, I worry about Zuko all the time. All the fucking time. I hate thinking about the reality one day he might not come home. One day he might hurt himself in a way he can’t come back from. One day he might be gone. And it’s taken a long time and a lot of therapy to realize that if that does happen, it’s not because of anything I did or didn’t do. I can’t help Zuko as much as I’d like to, and I couldn’t make my birth parents love me. That sucks. But it…it is what it is, I guess. So all I can do is hope it never comes to that, that if it does get that bad again we can all get through to him before it’s too late. But if it does and we can’t, it’s not our fault. It’s Ozai’s and shit brain chemistry’s. And I trust you, Sokka. I really do.”

Again. Sokka fixates on that word and his stomach turns, and he then forces his focus back to Toph herself.

“That…that means a lot.”

“Yeah, it should.” Toph smirks, and Sokka feels a little lighter. “But seriously…you have to take care of yourself, too, and that whole taking care of each other thing is supposed to work both ways. I know he thinks you give him too much and that he doesn’t give you enough. He doesn’t have to say it out loud. And I know you don’t want to look weak and let yourself need care. And that’s how you burn yourself out. Zuko does it to himself all the time, and we’ve all seen how well that works out for him.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have—”

“Doesn’t matter. Maybe you won’t get sick with a killer pain spike or faint like a Victorian lady cliché or whatever, but you still have to snap eventually if you don’t give yourself a fucking break. I love Zuko more than anything but he has a shit ton of baggage. You can’t constantly carry his and yours.”

“Wow, you really can read someone like a fucking book, huh.” Sokka clears his throat and appreciates the closeness, appreciates Toph letting her guard down for him. “Zuko is really lucky to have you.”

“He’s lucky to have you, too. And you’re lucky to have him. Don’t fuck it up.”

“Are we officially having the ‘you break his heart, I break your neck’ talk now?”

“No. Just don’t fuck it up. And trying to be the ‘strong one’ all the goddamn time counts as fucking it up, for the record.”

Opening up is hard. Vulnerability is terrifying. But Toph has a hard time with it, too, and it means more than he can say that she just let Sokka in like that. She does trust him.

They don’t say anything more for a little while. They just patiently wait.

Zuko and Noriko exchange phone numbers, and she looks at the time on her phone when she updates her contact information and announces it’s later than she thought, and that she should get back to her hotel. Zuko nods silently, and she promises to text him, which Zuko, Sokka, and Toph are all pleased to hear since none of them know if he’d have been able to bring himself to contact her again on his own.

The shop is getting ready to close, and Noriko says an affectionate goodbye to Iroh, as well, before she departs.

Iroh embraces Zuko the second the door closes behind her. “Are you okay?”

“I…I’m not sure. I think I might be.”

“You will call me if you need me?”

“Yeah. I will. Of course I will. Love you, Dad.”

Everything feels completely different yet completely the same. Both all and nothing have changed.

Zuko looks forward to sleeping at Sokka’s. He needs to not be here right now. He can’t explain why. He is thrilled about what’s transpired tonight. He is also numb and disconnected and still not entirely sure this isn’t all a dream or part of some fucked up unreality hellscape.

Hakoda drives back to Sokka’s, so that Sokka and Zuko can sit together in the backseat. They hold hands, Zuko rests his head against Sokka’s shoulder. He isn’t yet forcing himself to sort out all of the emotions unravelling in his head. He doesn’t have the energy.

When they get to Sokka’s bed for the night, Zuko takes a picture of his turtleduck with the intention to text it to Noriko. He doesn’t, but he thinks he might later. Probably. It’s hard to say.

Sokka watches him, then watches him stim with the plush, and takes Toph’s notes on vulnerability to heart in a way even she could never have known to anticipate. “Zuko, can I show you something?”

That pulls Zuko out of his head. “Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

Sokka gets up and takes a backpack out of the closet, where he has deliberately kept it hidden. He flips through a few of the books in it, and then he’s found the one he was looking for.

He sits down next to Zuko and passes the book to him, and he sees it’s a sketchbook, open to an intricately detailed and fully colored drawing of a pond filled with turtleducks.

It’s incredible. And Zuko is delighted.

“Sokka… Did you draw this?”

“Yeah,” he answers flatly. “I know it isn’t very good, but I thought you might like—”

“Sokka, are you fucking kidding me? Look at that line work and the shading and the blending and, and you made the turtleducks look so real—this is beautiful. I had no idea, how have you never shown me how talented you are before? Do you have any more art I can see?”

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“Oh my god, Sokka.” Zuko smiles at him, really smiles, and Sokka can’t not kiss him when he looks at him like that. “Sokka, do you seriously not know how amazing this is? The skill here, it’s…I love this.”

“You’re just saying that because it’s your favorite made up animal.”

“No, I’m not. I would love to see more. Is there more in here? Can I look?”

Sokka isn’t actually comfortable with it, but he nods anyway. Fuck it.

Zuko turns the page, goes through the various portraits. Some are more stylized, some border on hyperrealism, but they are all products of impeccable talent. Zuko would probably find the rest of them as gorgeous and perfect as the turtleduck pond art if they weren’t all of him.

But he is so fucking honored to be the subject of so much of Sokka’s handiwork, to apparently so regularly be his muse.

“This is weird, isn’t it?” Sokka asks anxiously, fidgeting with his hands. “I’m sorry, this has to be super fucking weird.”

“Sokka… Thank you for showing me. You are an incredible artist. I’m glad I know now.”

“I’ve never shown these to anyone before. Most people don’t even know I draw. I never thought it was worth showing. But I thought you might be into the turtleduck pond idea, so…”

“It is worth showing. All of them. But you’re right, I love it. It means a lot you showed it to me.”

Sokka sighs, unsure if Zuko is just humoring him or trying to make him feel better, but he decides to dig himself in deeper anyway. “If you want to, like, take a picture of it or…you know, if you wanted to show your mom…”

Zuko wastes no time, flipping back to that piece as quick as he can and snapping a picture with his phone. “Thank you. I bet she’ll love it, too.”

“How are you feeling, babe?”

“I don’t know. I’m still not sure how I should feel. Fuck, I’m still not convinced this is real.”

“I guess all that destiny stuff your dad always talks about must be onto something.”

Zuko shakes his head, not because he necessarily disagrees but because he is exhausted and needs more time to process.

“Sokka?”

“Yeah?”

“Just hold me?”

“I can do that. I can definitely do that.”

Chapter Text

The time has come. The moment of truth.

Well. Sort of.

Sokka’s cast has been replaced with a sturdy brace, and he’s now permitted to slowly start putting weight on his leg. It’s not over, but this is a huge step (pun not intended, but thoroughly laughed about by Sokka).

Sokka tries to wiggle his kneecap like Zuko and Ty Lee, and it is completely stiff. But perhaps a bit too stiff, and it makes the dreaded “cronch” on and off whenever he bends it. He doesn’t know what to do with this. The doctor tells him not to panic, to keep moving and see if it improves.

“I don’t want to live like you.” He hasn’t yet gotten that out of his head, even after fucking Toph of all people has told him he needs to stop beating himself up over it.

And as much of a relief as it is to now be able to use stairs with his feet instead of his knees or his ass, even though for the time being it is grossly off balance and requires extreme caution and excessive limping, he hasn’t stopped being scared.

He wants to stop being so scared.

He had been out and about with his dads for a while—for several hours—but he is still using crutches to support his being only partially weight bearing on his left, and he was getting too tired and sore and honestly just wanted to go home and see his boyfriend.

And he is elated to now be able to maneuver the steps in his building.

“Fuck you, stairs!” he shouts in victory after walking upright up to his apartment for the first time since the accident, and thankfully no neighbors pass him. “I am the champion!”

And when he gets inside, he sees that Zuko has apparently completely lost his mind.

The kitchen is a disaster area. Although it smells fantastic.

And there is…food. There is so much food. Everywhere.

While Sokka was getting his cast off and his leg checked over and then went out for lunch with Hakoda and Bato, Zuko decided to make every single comfort food his mother ever cooked for him as a child. Takoyaki, miso soup, gyoza, nikujaga, karaage. And Zuko himself is sitting at the table, pouring green tea into a bowl of rice, teapot clattering with his twitching.

Dealing with seeing her again is an ongoing process. It’s only been a week. Some days are better than others. The verdict is yet out on this one.

“It’s called chazuke,” he says to Sokka of the contents of the bowl in his hand. “My dad eats it all the time, too. I’m not totally insane.”

“Zuko, my love, no one is accusing you of total insanity,” Sokka replies. “But a few questions… How the hell did you do all of this? Do you need to talk about it? When and how did you pick up all of these ingredients? And lastly, just, what the actual fuck?”

“Very carefully, hell if I know, Mai took me shopping after you left this morning, and…umm, I don’t know how to answer that but at least try some of it? I mean I know it’s not, like, gourmet quality but…” Zuko then picks up one of several sets of chopsticks which were definitely also acquired during his shopping trip and are visibly difficult for him to hold right now, and he takes a bite of his rice.

“Have you eaten any of it yet? Or eaten anything today?”

Zuko answers this by pointing to the bowl of chazuke with his chopsticks, as though that counts as having legitimately eaten.

“Where are your dads?”

“They went out to look for souvenirs to take home for my Gran Gran. Don’t worry about it. Talk to me.”

Sokka had asked Zuko if he wanted to get tickets to see Love Amongst the Dragons while it was still playing. He’d been reading reviews, all of them raving about Noriko’s reportedly stunning portrayal of the Dragon Empress. He looked so proud. He didn’t go. The final show was last night. She’s off to the next city. He missed it.

But Zuko and Noriko (a name he hasn’t quite adjusted to) are staying in touch. She loved Sokka’s turtleduck art, like he knew she would. And he has been holding his turtleduck plush closer than ever.

“Mai told me that right before I completely crashed the night I…you know…that night…” Zuko clears his throat. “She told me the last thing I said was ‘I want my mom.’ I think she thought I’d be happier.”

“You’ve said stuff like that in your sleep a lot, too, babe,” Sokka informs him, and Zuko wants to hide. “But this was unexpected and kind of a big fucked up thing and no one is blaming you for having a rough time with it.”

“I just wanted to…I wanted to feel like it was normal, talking to her again. I honestly don’t know why, but I thought this might help.” Zuko gestures around the kitchen with unsteady hands, and he looks like he’s going to cry. “I didn’t plan to go this hard, I just started and then I couldn’t sit down or stay still, I just couldn’t stop. But then I had to. It hurt too much and I started to have a panic attack for some fucking reason and…”

“It’s okay. You’re okay. But I can tell you’re hurting and you kind of look like you’re ready to pass out and the last time I felt like I needed to point that out, you did, so…let’s just take a break, take it easy. I think we both need to chill right now.”

Zuko did only finally get out of his migraine a couple of days ago, after having to call his neurologist for some emergency medications. But he’s just grateful it worked. He was not looking forward to having to go to the emergency room to get rid of it if that last resort became necessary, so he is glad it didn’t come to that.

“How’s your leg? How does it feel? Are you in a lot of pain?” Zuko is doing his damnedest to help get Sokka comfortable with talking about it.

“It hurts, yeah, and it’s kind of hard to work my knee, but they said that’s normal when the cast only just came off.”

“You’re freaking out about it, though. Aren’t you?”

Sokka doesn’t say anything, but he absentmindedly taps his right foot a few times.

“Be honest,” Zuko encourages. “It’s okay. I promise.”

“I am. I really am. I’m sorry, Zuko, I don’t want to be, but I—”

Zuko puts his hands out, takes Sokka’s. “You don’t need to apologize. I know it’s scary, okay. I know how it feels when things like this change, when they don’t work the same way they used to and you feel like you don’t have any control. You’re allowed to be afraid. And you’re allowed to show it. Please let me in, Sokka.”

Zuko wants the sides of Sokka he’s scared to show. Zuko wants all of him. He is trying his best to believe that. He is trying his best to accept it.

Sokka looks down, actively not meeting Zuko’s eyes. “Will you still love me if I can’t do things I used to? If I can’t help you anymore?”

“Will you still love me when my capabilities decline? And I say ‘when’ because that’s not an if with me, Sokka, it is a when. So, will you?”

“You know, you’re not supposed to answer a question with a question.”

“Answer it, Sokka.”

“Of course I will.”

“Well. Looks like you know my answer, too.”

***

Normalcy is a construct with no basis in reality.

Hanging out at the Jasmine Dragon and watching Iroh, Hakoda, and Bato play Pai Sho should be normal, but no, this time of calm complacency is the aberration.

It’s a nice aberration, though.

“And you almost agreed to put money on this,” Bato chastises his husband as Iroh continuously destroys the both of them.

Zuko laughs. Zuko laughs at banter between his and his boyfriend’s fathers.

Sokka could cry, he is so happy.

He is sad, though, at the same time, knowing his time with Hakoda and Bato here will soon be coming to an end. Sokka’s next followup appointment is in another two weeks and if everything goes well there, that’s probably when they’ll see fit to leave. Once he is steady on his feet, literally, they will go home, and considering how long they’ve stayed it will most likely be too damn long before they return again.

Sokka wonders if maybe once everything in their lives gets back on track, and then once Long Day’s Journey into Night wraps, he could visit them. He needs to go home again from time to time anyway for the sake of his sanity and he hasn’t been away that long this time but…

But he could take Zuko. He could take him to see where he’s from, to meet Gran Gran. Zuko could see what the stars look like there. The stars back home are always incredible.

He has drawings of those, too, intricately colored odes to the beauty of the Milky Way on a clear night without light pollution. He’ll have to show those to Zuko first.

And he has no idea what he would do if he asked Zuko to go to Alaska with him and Zuko said no, and that scares him almost as much as his leg does, but at least that fear can wait.

Even if he is already certain he’s going to have to do it.

***

Things Sokka has done today: walked on stairs, put on real pants, taken a real shower without having to precariously balance himself along the walls and wrap his entire leg in plastic, Zuko.

And he is fucking ecstatic about all of it.

Zuko, too, would be lying if he claimed he wasn’t relieved to be able to resume his position of bottoming on the actual bottom. It wasn’t easy, but twenty-four hours ago it wasn’t really possible, so they’ll take it.

It’s amazing how safe Zuko feels with Sokka’s weight on top of him, their bodies fit together, perfectly connected and wishing they could stay that way forever.

And it’s nice to be able to give Sokka any and every reassurance that his life can go back to the way it was. He needs that. It helps take his mind off his ongoing concerns that it may not go back exactly, and Zuko wants to ease his fears as much as he possibly can.

Fingers laced together, lips locked, and for the time being nothing else matters. No fragile bodies, no ghosts of the past…just them.

Ignoring the intense ache Sokka experienced when the late autumn breeze hit him when they were on their way inside from the car, the throbbing of his leg from the chill in the air which was an all new sensation he is trying to forget about. Especially with how cold it can get back home. He’s always been able to take it. Hell, sometimes in any of the other cities around the world he’s travelled across, he starts to miss it.

But he’s not thinking about it. He’s not fucking thinking about it.

Sokka is also looking forward to resuming their late night drives. Driving isn’t one hundred percent comfortable yet, either, but being able to adjust his leg at all is making a huge difference. The only reason he and Zuko aren’t on the road right now is that it seems rude to abandon Hakoda and Bato in the apartment like that, even if they’re not spending time together anyway.

And because it is all too perfect to stay precisely like this. Zuko is so warm against his chest, he could forget it’s been starting to get cold out here.

The sun can never shine this bright.

Sokka dreams of Zuko following Yue’s lead, going home to his own celestial body, following Sokka opposite her. The moon and the sun now both work in harmony to haunt him, and all the stars Zuko compares Sokka to go out.

He wakes up to Zuko whispering to him that it’s all alright, that regardless of whatever he was dreaming about he’s safe and he’s loved and he’s not alone. They have ended up as tightly wrapped together in the night as usual, each making their presence firm and solid and undeniable to the other. Sokka adjusts to try to bring them closer yet, and Zuko kisses any and all skin he can reach.

This is how Sokka wants to fall asleep every night, with a beautiful human heating pad smothering him in safety and satisfaction.

It hasn’t even hit half a year but he’s determined to make this his forever.

Chapter Text

“You know they don’t ever want to leave you, Sokka, but they totally haven’t gotten laid in at least two months, so…” Suki is teasing Sokka, trying to make him smile, as the reality of Hakoda and Bato’s imminent departure starts to make him sadder and sadder.

“I do not need that image in my brain, thank you very much,” Sokka snaps at her, but he is smiling so she knows she’s doing something right.

Sokka is freaking out in “everybody leaves” mode and Suki is the only person with any hope of getting through to him when he’s like this since he, in fact, left her the last time he went home.

“So all I can do is hope it never comes to that, that if it does get that bad again we can all get through to him before it’s too late.” Toph’s words are burned into his brain, hyper fixating hard on that ominous “again.”

Not that Sokka is necessarily surprised by its use, but it’s now another conversation relating to Zuko he can’t fucking shake.

Okay, so maybe Toph has a point about Sokka making Zuko’s well being a bit too much his responsibility, but.

What does “again” mean, exactly? What’s happened before? Is it as bad as it sounds?

“Sokka, are you even listening to me?”

Oh, right, Suki. No, he wasn’t. Oops.

“Sorry, I just, uh… I don’t know, I guess my mind wandered off a second there…”

“You’re okay.” Suki takes Sokka’s hand from across the kitchen table.

People keep telling him that lately. He isn’t sure what’s stranger to him, the idea that it’s been that obvious he doesn’t feel like he is or the idea everyone has only recently started noticing.

“Hey. Sokka. Remember when we first started talking about moving in together and you told me you’d get back to me and then you just fucking hopped on a plane to Russia? And you know what I thought about that? I was a little worried, but I knew you’d be back.”

“To be fair, of course I had to come back, I am way too passionately bisexual to stay in Russia on a long term basis.”

“Sokka. You know what I mean.”

In his defense, it was almost the anniversary of Yue’s death and he was feeling like a giant fucking mess about it, so he decided going backpacking through Siberia was the best way to handle this.

As one does.

But they’d talked about going there together once. It just made sense to him. And then he went back to Saint Lawrence Island and Agna Qel’a, and then he went back to Igiugig. He told Suki he had things he needed to take care of back home. She knew he meant wallowing in depression in a safe place, but she wasn’t going to deny him the safe place aspect so she made up some bullshit about his helping out with caring for his aging grandmother for her friends when they asked about it (and Katara thankfully didn’t question this, but she probably had the same mindset about allowing Sokka his space), but after he left they had continued the apartment hunting together conversation from a distance for nearly two years.

Sokka first moved to Ba Sing Se about a year after Katara did. Suki moved here about six months before Katara. He and Suki had met on Tumblr and been close for years, and they had met in real life a couple of times already—once in San Francisco, and then again at the Burning Man that they followed with their infamous “cactus juice” journey. Being in the same city firmly solidified their destiny as best friends, even though Sokka could barely be contained to stay in one place for more than a few weeks at a time. He wasn’t coping and he tried to fill the void in his restless, desperate heart with travel and experience.

It didn’t work.

And if he’d known destiny was about to work out so that Mai would become a big part of Suki’s life and that this would further introduce into their little circle Katara’s shy friend from the theatre who didn’t really attend gatherings with either of them until Mai and Katara knew each other and that meant there were enough friends in common that he knew he would feel safe with the mix of people present, and that Sokka could therefore have met Zuko significantly earlier if he hadn’t gone off, maybe he would have reconsidered.

(That’s a lie. It was absolutely impulsive and ill advised and the trip left him emotionally exhausted and completely broke, but he isn’t actually sure anything could have stopped him.)

Sokka sighs. “Okay, yeah, I guess.”

He’s being unreasonably obstinate but he isn’t doing it on purpose. He didn’t want them to come and now he doesn’t want them to leave and he is sure this is just so fucking stupid, stupid, stupid, but separation is rough and he’s learned to never take those he loves for granted and it’s so much easier to be able to see them and…

And from Sokka’s perspective, Kya died in a phone call. And he wasn’t there. He wasn’t there, there was no goodbye, no meaning in a final moment together, nothing he could do.

Although Yue still died in his arms. This version really isn’t better than the other.

But he is always scared of losing, always scared of missing. He knows Hakoda and Bato need to go home, that their home is not and never can be here, and that they text nearly every day when they aren’t visiting, but Sokka is physical and prefers touching to typing and being able to hug Hakoda is how he knows for certain he’s okay.

All Sokka ever wants is for the people he loves to be okay.

And now he’s seen the doctor for his latest follow up and, unfortunately, it appears he does now have some mild osteoarthritis in that knee and he needs to build some muscle back up in his calf and the cold will probably always aggravate the injury from this point on but it’s not that bad, it could be worse, and he already works out enough that adding some exercises he was suggested for the muscle tone won’t be a major adjustment and the arthritis is indeed mild right now and increased muscle tone can help with that, too, and his knee still doesn’t slide around the way he’d worried about, so…

Everyone leaves and everything changes and he can’t control the rhythm of his heels against the linoleum.

Suki stands up and walks over to hug Sokka from behind. She brings herself in tight, assuring, safe and soft. She always seems to know what kind of encouragement he needs most, and this was definitely an instance where touch would be most effective. He loves her so much and knows how lucky he is to have her, the understanding between them, and right now the reminder that gone does not mean forgotten and does not mean forever and she can’t think of anyone who should know that better than him, and her arms over his shoulders say it best.

***

“It’s…actually going to be really weird with them gone,” Zuko says of Hakoda and Bato officially having a departure scheduled, plane tickets purchased and all.

“Honestly? You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear you say that.” Sokka smiles at him, eyes wide.

Sokka has his mother’s eyes and nose, Zuko has picked that up from Sokka’s photographs and now as well from his often photorealistic drawings of her. He can look so much like his father, Zuko always notices when he sees them together and that helps, but he carries on both of his parents’ features well.

Zuko tries not to think about who he looks like. Sokka seems to think it’s his mother, and he supposes if he looked too, too much like Ozai he’d get a lot more remarks about it any time someone learned his surname, but…

But he tries not to think about it.

Sokka and Hakoda’s matching grins still throws him off, though.

Yet it is going to be really weird when Zuko doesn’t have to worry about it anymore.

“So does that mean you’re not terrified of them anymore?” Sokka laughs and Zuko understands he’s only teasing. He doesn’t understand why it’s funny, but he knows that’s how Sokka deals with things and he tries not to take offense.

“For the most part.” Zuko shrugs. It’s not the ideal answer, but he isn’t lying or hiding, and that means more to Sokka than anything.

Zuko will actually genuinely miss them once they’re gone, but then time and separation will mean he has to start from several steps back the next time he has to face them. It won’t be from the beginning, but he’ll have to adjust to remembering they are good fathers who can be trusted like Iroh.

“I hope you know, they really care about you,” Sokka tells Zuko for far from the first time. Zuko never knows what to say in return. “They do. They love you, babe. You’re pretty much part of the family now.”

Part of the family. Sokka’s family. Zuko likes that.

“But why?” Zuko doesn’t know why he would ask that. He doesn’t know why he’s like this.

“Because you deserve it. And don’t you fucking dare argue with me about that. I know you don’t believe it. I don’t care. It’s true.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Zuko utters anyway.

“Bullshit,” Sokka counters quickly.

He stops himself from commenting about his certainty in the opposite being true.

***

From the look on Hakoda’s face when Zuko hugs him goodbye unprompted at the airport this time, one would think he had just won the lottery.

But he remembers last time. He had told Bato about it. He was ready for a repeat, despite all the progress they’ve made over the past couple of months.

Zuko hugged him, though. All on his own.

For a split second he thought he might cry.

“Take care, son,” Hakoda tells him, and that will never get old. “And if you ever need me for any reason, Sokka can give you my number, okay?”

Zuko nods. “Yes, thank you. You, umm, you take care, too. Thank you for everything, Hakoda.”

That’s the first time Zuko has addressed him by his name. He gets another hug for that one.

When they get back to the car after saying their goodbyes, Zuko asks Sokka if he’s okay. Sokka shakes his head.

“It’s not forever.” Zuko takes his hand. He’s just grateful Sokka is being honest with him. He’s just grateful Sokka is giving him the chance to understand and try to help.

He knows it’s hard. Better than most, he knows how hard it is. But they have already seen each other through so much in such a short span of time. There is a trust there.

“Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed,” Sokka says quietly.

“And that isn’t on you,” Zuko replies. “You know they had to go home eventually. And you know they’ll be back. But no matter what happens, you know that they love you so much. They love you so much and they’re not leaving you.”

“That’s what Suki said, too.”

“That might be because we’re right.”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s just go home.”

By home, Sokka means his apartment. But they’re going to end up sleeping at Zuko’s again tonight.

Chapter Text

Sokka can’t sleep.

He hasn’t been sleeping well since he got the news about the damage to his leg, and even worse since his dads left. Most nights, Zuko notices. Tonight, at least so far, he has not.

Sokka watches him sleep, how beautiful he looks bathed in moonlight. Maybe it’s Yue watching out for him, helping him have an easy night even when Sokka can’t although Zuko is usually worse.

Sokka realizes Yue did not actually go to the moon when she died, and that she wasn’t exactly lucid when she spoke of it, but he also knows he can’t be too sure. He doesn’t believe in any higher power or any sort of life after death. But Yue did. She was deeply spiritual and held close to the beliefs passed down through her family, revering the ocean and the moon, and their spirits. Yue was named for the moon, in fact. That’s why Sokka got his koi fish tattoos, in honor of her. Because to him, they are her. Yue had them permanently inked into her body, too. And after her final claims of being a fish returning to the moon, Sokka wanted to keep that reminder. It felt right.

And who’s to say Yue was wrong, and that the moon didn’t accept her spirit into its own. Sokka doesn’t know, none of this makes any sense to him. But it was important to her and that makes it impossible for him to never at least contemplate the possibilities, even if he can’t follow any further than that.

But if there is anything to Yue’s last words, it’s nice to dream she’s showing her approval now.

Sokka sketches the sight before him, shading the shadows across Zuko’s body, contrasting against and thereby highlighting where the moon’s glow reflects off of his skin.

He has no right to be this gorgeous.

He looks peaceful. Sokka hopes he isn’t having any nightmares behind that façade. He stirred when Sokka first got up to retrieve his sketchbook but didn’t wake, and he hasn’t moved since. That seems like a good sign.

Although Zuko’s nightmares are so often loud and violent that Sokka isn’t sure he’d know if he had any that weren’t. Sokka’s aren’t. Sokka’s are much quieter, more stiff than flailing, sometimes shaking and whimpering and heavy breathing but not usually so disruptive. If Zuko gets those, too…

Sokka closes his eyes, trying not to think about the idea Zuko could be trapped in a nightmare right this very moment and he’s just sitting back and watching it happen because he doesn’t know any better. But he also can’t bring himself to prod, because how dare he interrupt a rare night of Zuko sleeping soundly if this is as innocent as it appears, just to make himself feel better.

There is no winning, apparently.

Sokka closes over his book. He’s been straining his eyes, anyway, maybe it’s time to give sleeping another go of his own.

Before he can get up to put his book away, however, Zuko grabs his wrist.

“Sokka?” he whispers in a hoarse drawl, and his barely being awake at all is audible.

“I’m here, babe. I’m here. You okay?”

“Thought I felt you leave.”

“Of course not, sweetheart. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

“Mmkay. Want you.”

Sokka drops his sketchbook and his pencils at the side of the bed. He can’t get up now.

“You have me, Zuko. I’m not going anywhere.”

“No, want you here.” Zuko is not awake enough that he will remember this at all, but it’s cute the way he whines for Sokka in this state. “C’mere.”

Sokka slips to lie down beside Zuko, coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around him, and Zuko hums in contentment.

“Don’t leave me,” Zuko mumbles, and his fingers clumsily grasp at Sokka’s forearms.

Fuck, Zuko must really love him.

“Never,” Sokka replies, and places a kiss to the back of Zuko’s neck. “Love you.”

“Mm. Love you, too.”

***

Zuko is usually numb when he comes out of therapy. He says it helps, and he’s been with the same therapist for years and they have a good dynamic, but ever since Sokka started regularly being the one to pick him up after a session, he always worries about how distant and detached Zuko is every time.

He has a lot to process. After everything he’s been through, it’s going to be a lifelong journey. And he struggles to talk about it to anyone, feeling like a burden to everyone, including the professionals, so after spending an hour fighting through that and then doing the actual work of talking about and trying to deal with all of that trauma, it makes sense that he would leave in a state of utter emotional exhaustion and have to take some time to come back to his normal self.

Sokka has started to consider it, now that he plans on staying in one place for the foreseeable future. Zuko and Toph have told him of their success with it, and Suki has blatantly told him he needs it several times.

(It is not an admission of weakness, she says. It is a safe space for the vulnerability he otherwise works so hard to deny himself, she says.)

But it’s hard when he sees how blank Zuko’s eyes are after each appointment.

It used to be worse, though, he remembers hearing that. Zuko used to be so angry, used to actively seek out fights, used to believe much more firmly he deserved his abuse. Zuko has gotten real help.

Now, though…now Zuko is just sad.

But it took several years and a lot of hard work to get him to this point which is still an improvement. So.

Sokka is thinking about it.

***

Six months.

It’s been six months.

They celebrate the half year marker at Sokka’s place, mostly in bed, Zuko pinned down and Sokka’s hips moving faster than light and both of them looking at the other like they’ve seen the face of god in one another’s eyes, in one another’s touch, both of them rambling obscenities and endearments, each other’s names in fits of bliss, enraptured and overtaken and so in love.

Throes of passion followed by the softness of affection, the most delicate of kisses, fingers tenderly brushing through hair and caressing cheeks, limbs lovingly entangled both with and without any sexual intent.

Thai food is en route via Uber Eats. Zuko made sure to ask for extra bird’s eye chilis in any and every available comment or request field. Sokka made so many faces at him for it, and Zuko called Sokka a coward.

They need to put clothes on. They don’t want to put clothes on.

Zuko is fairly sore after a day full of going at it like rabbits, back and hips screaming, rubbing at his jaw whenever Sokka isn’t looking.

Worth it.

Zuko has a sheet thrown over himself, lazy and comfortable and wanting never to get up, but forever feeling terribly exposed and vulnerable without any clothing. He typically puts at least bottoms of some kind back on the second he can. Right now, though, he feels safe enough for a sheet to suffice.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he whispers to Sokka.

“Come on, love, have you seen you?” Sokka tosses the compliment right back.

Zuko looks away from Sokka. Sokka knows he has and that he will never understand what Sokka sees when he looks at him because these images clearly are not the same.

Zuko looks at his own face and sees nothing but a broken shell, and as if that wasn’t bad enough he is visibly cursed to forever carry the mark of that which broke him.

Sokka, however, sees the prettiest perfection, the mark of a tragic past but that which has grown into strength and compassion. That scar is a part of him, and that makes it beautiful, too.

He sees all the love in his eyes. He returns it with his own at every chance he gets.

Yet Zuko moves to hide his face, turns and digs his left side into a pillow and covers the other side of his face with his hands.

Sokka pulls his hands away and gently nudges at his chin to turn him to face him again.

“What do you want from me?” Zuko whines, sadness and self-loathing manifesting as petulance.

“Everything, baby,” Sokka answers, kissing the outline of his scar. “Everything.”

***

Sokka’s mouth on Zuko’s neck. Zuko holding onto Sokka’s hair and straining his scalp (it’s okay to pull when it’s Sokka, Sokka said it’s okay, Sokka said he likes it). How flesh sounds slapping together. Zuko’s legs around Sokka’s waist. The memory of Sokka throbbing deep down Zuko’s throat. Red, raised marks down Zuko’s back scratched in by Sokka’s nails. Sokka’s hands pinning Zuko by his wrists, carefully navigating around Zuko’s loose hair spread out everywhere (touch is fine but mind a grip, please don’t pull, can’t pull Zuko’s hair, never pull, never pull, watch out now). The way Zuko’s breath catches, the way Sokka pants. The little sounds the other’s mouth muffles, the tiny moans accompanying every thrust.

Their food is getting cold.

That’s what microwaves are for.

***

Neither Zuko nor Toph were prepared for the ending to The Good Place. They were so behind yet the final episode had remained miraculously not too spoiled, and most of what they had learned was confusing without the context they didn’t have. But there were some plotlines of which they had known nothing.

And if they had known the twists and turns Tahani’s story was going to take, what would become of her relationship with her mean but canonically redeemed sister and their awful, toxic, emotionally abusive, by all logic irredeemable parents, Toph would never in a million years have agreed to finish the series with Zuko while Sokka was with him.

(To be fair, Toph would have been finishing by herself in that case, since Zuko and Sokka might as well be joined at the hip, but still.)

Toph knows Sokka by now, at least. She knows him and she trusts him, and she has already shown him she can be sad and scared and sensitive sometimes, just like anyone but never supposed to be her.

Besides, Zuko’s also crying. Of course that will be the first priority. That ought to give her a chance to not be noticed.

But no, Sokka brings Zuko in closer but he also extends a hand to Toph from across Zuko between them. She takes it and they hold them in Zuko’s lap. And while Sokka pulls Zuko as close to himself as he can, it’s Toph’s opposite arm where Zuko’s touch lands. She buries her face into Zuko’s forearm, reaching to try to comfortably brush her fingers against his.

They each realize The Good Place is a work of fiction and not a proven, factual, indisputably accurate depiction of the afterlife (although it’s really equally as likely or unlikely as becoming one with the moon), but Toph still says to her brother, “Ozai’s never going to get in. That’ll never happen.”

“Neither will your biologicals,” he assures her in turn. “No way.”

And then Sokka is bawling over Chidi’s conversation with Eleanor before he goes through the door and the world feels drastically more in balance with all three of them turning into complete messes on the couch together.

Sokka is firmly part of Zuko’s family now, too.

***

It’s getting colder. Sokka’s been limping more because of it.

It feels good when Zuko rubs his leg. The man is a human radiator, all he needs to do is touch Sokka and the warmth melts Sokka to his core, soothes and relaxes the tension beneath Zuko’s hands. The effects are both physical and emotional. It legitimately feels damn good, siphoning Zuko’s heat, and the sensation has become a comfort all on its own.

Zuko kisses down Sokka’s injured calf, looking up at him and smiling. “Make it better?”

Sokka smiles back, but he can’t hide the grief behind it. Grief for the changes he is learning to live with. It’s not that different, not really, but it is not at all the same.

He’s been working again. That helps.

He needs to feel useful. He needs to be useful.

(Zuko has tried to start calling him out on his newly revealed internalized ableism. But Sokka argues he cannot have internalized ableism as he is not disabled. Zuko realizes Sokka is not ready for the chronic pain caused by permanent internal damage counts conversation. Zuko just offers as much support as he can without pushing too hard.)

Later, Sokka is trying his damnedest to figure out how to fix the incline of the ramp next to the stairs that leads backstage at the Ember Theatre. He remembers seeing Teo back there after Zuko’s audition and assumes his chair must be ridiculously powerful in order to make that without help. And that isn’t fair to anyone who isn’t fortunate enough to have top of the line equipment and a genius engineer father who is constantly tweaking what’s good to turn it into the best. Zuko has seen Sokka’s notes on it, the amount of math he doesn’t understand, the pages of sketches of Sokka’s ideas scattered with numbers.

“Since when can we gays do math?” Zuko laughs as Sokka pores over his own work.

“Every rule has exceptions,” Sokka shrugs, preoccupied.

“So you can drive, cook, and math,” Zuko teases. “That’s fucking wild. I legit had no idea they made bisexuals like you.”

“What can I say, I’m one of a kind.” Sokka then taps the knee—his bad knee—that’s currently nearly touching his chest, and his other leg is tucked underneath him. “I can’t sit right, at least.”

Zuko chuckles at that, but Sokka sighs and follows up with something self-deprecating and hard to hear.

“And I can’t exactly put my math skills to any use since I couldn’t fucking get into college.”

He grumbles, sad and bitter, and he closes his eyes and sets his notes aside.

He was supposed to be an architect. His dream was to become an architect. He’d have been an amazing architect, even he knows that. But he couldn’t make it. He didn’t get his ADHD diagnosis until midway through his junior year of high school, and by then it was too late to salvage his grades enough. He got tutoring but he was resistant to the medications he was offered. Adderall gave him side effects and Ritalin didn’t do anything. The one on one attention he got after class from sympathetic teachers who saw he was having a hard time and wanted to see him succeed was probably the only reason he made it through high school at all, leaving with a solid 2.0 GPA, even though before his diagnosis his teachers could never figure out why he was performing so poorly because, as they regularly informed him, he was the smartest kid any of them had ever seen.

But even with trying to work through the ADHD as well as he could, that didn’t factor in the trauma he wasn’t coping with of Kya’s death and the amount of pressure he put on himself to take care of everyone and always put himself last in the aftermath, the depression and anxiety which has always been there but were rapidly growing more apparent in light of losing his mom, and knowing he has ADHD but not knowing what rejection sensitive dysphoria is or what a raging case of it he has.

Zuko has heard a tiny bit about this, but Sokka never really talks about it. All Zuko knows is that Sokka applied to college and that didn’t go well and he’s never forgiven himself for it, but at least he does have a job he likes and that he’s good at and still gets to utilize his skills in…right?

“If it helps, I didn’t even graduate high school,” Zuko tries, and Sokka shakes his head.

But Zuko didn’t care like Sokka did—like Sokka does. It’s not the same and he knows it.

Zuko stopped going to school because he couldn’t get out of bed half the time, mental and physical illness getting him down as much as his unprocessed trauma, and basically he refused to function for a few years. After a truancy hearing, Iroh agreed to let him drop out and get his GED, and Zuko has always been grateful to him for his understanding on the matter. He still made him get the diploma so he’d have it if he needed it later in life, but he didn’t push his limits and make him do anything he couldn’t or didn’t need to do.

When he did attend, he was relentlessly bullied about his scar, or by people who had heard anything about his living situation for having a birth family who didn’t want him. He would get into fights and come home crying. He also just wasn’t good at it. Ozai chastised him all the time about not being as gifted as Azula and the shit grades he tried so hard for continuously reinforced to him that Ozai must be right about him. He was having panic attacks daily from dealing with all of that all together, spiralling through constant breakdowns and meltdowns, and would sometimes go days at a time without speaking a single word and unable to do anything more than rock back and forth. Iroh easily determined it wasn’t worth it.

This is one of those instances where Sokka and Zuko’s experiences could not be more different, yet somehow match so well at the same time.

(Although Zuko knows Sokka’s so viciously faulting himself for the effects of his neurodivergence and mental illness also falls squarely into the internalized ableism box, but that is another aspect Zuko will be more than happy to try to help Sokka with whenever Sokka is ready to acknowledge it.)

“It doesn’t help, but thanks,” Sokka answers with markedly forced calm, making sure not to take his frustrations with himself out on his boyfriend who is only trying his best to make him feel better and already knows he can’t but won’t be deterred from putting forth the effort.

Sokka has thought about looking into what has always been his second choice for a career even when he was still in school: engineering. He had intended to look into trade schools if his plans for majoring in architecture didn’t work out, as he knew going in there was a decent chance they wouldn’t, but even knowing the possibility he was still so devastated when it happened that he put further education on hold indefinitely and taught himself to build things just to give himself something else to focus on, a task which took up enough energy that he has no choice but to put his whole head into it and it makes him steady his shaking hands.

It doesn’t change anything outside of work, and if he isn’t careful there is still a good chance he’ll end up unable to concentrate enough to work for days on end or that he will work but in doing so he won’t be able to stop until his body gives out on him. But he’s better than he used to be at scheduling and self-imposed structure and keeping track of notes and such and supplementing with caffeine in place of the prescriptions that didn’t work out, and he could totally talk to Teo’s dad who he would love to work with, and he likely could do school again now if he tried, but it just seems like so much work and it just serves as a reminder of where he failed, and…

“Uh, Zuko?”

Sokka’s voice is small, strangely frail. It makes Zuko’s hair stand on end.

“What’s up, love?”

“Next time you see your therapist, can you ask him if he can, umm, if he can…you know, if he can…” Fuck, this is hard. He clears his throat, determined to get this out, and his next words come out so quickly it’s like one long word, no breaths in between as syllables blur together.

“If he can maybe recommend a therapist I could see because I think maybe it’s time.”

Zuko has been waiting for this, but he knew it was something else he couldn’t push, that Sokka would have to be ready on his own. But he can’t help his smile, and he is so proud of him.

“Of course, Sokka. Absolutely.”

He kisses Sokka’s forehead, brushes his hand through Sokka’s hair.

This is a good sign. This is hopeful, and it fills Zuko’s heart.

***

Zuko went on a comfort food cooking spree again.

And Sokka definitely notices some differences this time around.

“Changed the recipes?”

“Fixed them.”

Zuko has hardly even eaten anything, moving straight from doing all of the work in cooking to serving to cleaning up around the kitchen to doing the dishes, and if he isn’t cleaning or tidying then he’s pacing, and he’s moving fast.

“What do you mean, fixed them?”

“Googled before. Mom’s recipes this time. Much better.”

Sokka’s happy to hear Zuko had the heart to ask Noriko for them. He’s still struggling but they’re working on it. Their relationship is growing. She has promised to never leave him again and she understands he can’t just automatically trust her even though he never blamed her for leaving in the first place. They take it day by day and accept this cannot be easy.

But he knows Zuko’s going to hurt himself if he keeps running around like this.

He’s seen it a few times now, Zuko building into the beginnings of what look like manic episodes which are most often then wildly disrupted by his body’s limitations (Zuko is never sure if he’s grateful for that or if he resents it). Initially pushing his body too hard in any manner is a good way to trigger such a state, but the fragile mindset that accompanies cooking these foods in particular makes it especially easy. And the goal whenever they realize what’s going on is to mitigate it as fast as they can before Zuko can self-destruct too hard like this. It’s a dangerous place to be and Sokka hasn’t seen that full on with his own eyes but that’s alright, he’d rather not.

“Zuko. Babe. It’s okay. Sit down, okay?”

“Can’t. Can’t sit. It hurts. Fuck, this hurts.”

Ativan and diphenhydramine for the racing, and ibuprofen for the added pain. Sokka doesn’t know if it’s the safest combination in the world but it’s what Zuko says he uses when he’s stuck here to try to calm his body out of it. It’s not much. It’s all he can do.

His heart is beating out of his chest and Sokka doesn’t want Zuko to collapse on him, so he rather forcefully sits him down at the kitchen table and puts the pills he’s gathered down in front of him.

Zuko is trembling as he takes them, and Sokka is quick to get up and start the tea kettle. This is a jasmine scenario.

Sokka kisses the top of his head from behind him and does all he can to coax him to eat while they wait for the tea to brew and the meds to kick in.

“You’re okay, Zuko. I’ve got you.”

Zuko’s eyes sting but nothing comes out, but he leans back into Sokka from his seat and works to steady his breathing. Sokka breathes with him, guiding him through.

“Thank you,” Zuko whispers, sad and embarrassed and forever unable to grasp how Sokka could not see him as the world’s most exhausting burden. “I love you. I love you so much.”

It’s not love, it’s limerence.

Actually, no, fuck that. This has to be love. It’s proven itself too many times over by now.

This is real. Oh god, this is real.

This is fucking love.

“I love you, too. So much. It’s going to be okay.”

It has to be. I couldn’t keep that promise before, but I’ll figure it out this time. With you.

Noriko has asked if Zuko would ever like to visit her at her home in Arizona, to spend some real time together and meet Ikem and Kiyi. She’s offered up her guest room should he ever be so inclined. She made sure to add that this offer also extends to Sokka. He hasn’t mentioned it to him yet.

Sokka is still thinking a lot about taking Zuko to Alaska to see his home and meet his grandmother. He hasn’t mentioned it to Hakoda or Bato, but he knows he never needs to ask them if it’s okay for him to visit and he doesn’t want to say anything to them until he knows how Zuko feels about the idea. He hasn’t figured out how to bring it up yet.

Everything feels like it’s moving so quickly between them and it shouldn’t be working so well but it just makes sense.

This is love.

Chapter Text

Home is a fucking weird concept.

It sounds so simple, so cut and dry, but god knows it’s anything but. And it can have so many different meanings to so many different people.

As a child, it was largely abstract for Zuko. The house in Caldera never felt like home, even though that was where he lived. He saw the beach house in Malibu all of once, and all he felt there was overwhelmed and isolated by its size and location, which made him feel even less safe than usual. He knew there were more he would never be considered worthy of visiting—while Zuko visited Iroh in the summer or occasionally while simply left alone to his own devices as though forgotten (he knew better, though, knew he wasn’t forgotten but consciously abandoned), Ozai would take Azula to travel to their other homes, to stay at the houses she deserved to see in Azabu and Nassau and Deauville and Teshikaga, and Ozai’s weird obsession with volcanoes and settling down new estates where he could all across the Pacific Ring of Fire, and wherever the fuck else that monster and all his money put down roots.

“Halfway down the path you can’t see this house. You’d never know it was here.”

Ba Sing Se with Iroh was probably where Zuko felt most at home even then, Iroh himself probably felt most like home even then, but he isn’t sure he felt quite at home anywhere with anyone at all until he actually moved here.

“Everything looked and sounded unreal. Nothing was what it was.”

And Ba Sing Se would certainly not count as Zuko’s hometown by any conventional definition, but it is the only place that would come to mind were he to consider where he’s from.

From the first time he set foot in this city, in the Jasmine Dragon and the apartment above, Zuko felt more at home than he ever had before. It would pain him to return to the house which was “supposed to” be his home in Caldera and the “immediate family” he was expected to love and be loved by. Iroh was always his truest family. Lu Ten was like a brother to him. After Ursa left to become Noriko, he had nothing in the place he spent most of his time. It was just a place. Not a home.

“That’s what I wanted—to be alone with myself in another world where truth is untrue and life can hide from itself.”

Home is Iroh, and always was, even back then. And a few years after Iroh being his real dad was legally cemented, home also became Toph. Home is hot tea and warm hugs and wisdom and compassion and affection provided through words of affirmation and through soft touches and calming whispers and acts of service, equally gentle and caring no matter who’s behind them. (Toph doesn’t show affection through playful punches with Zuko very often. She knows he knows she’d never hurt him for real but he still tends to flinch so she just hopes no one else pays enough attention to notice or question that she shows love the same way towards everyone except her favorite person.)

And now, more and more every day, Sokka is becoming home, too.

Home is a weird fucking concept. It is so much more than a place, and may not be a place at all. Sometimes it’s simply a feeling.

Sometimes it’s people.

“I even lost the feeling of being on land.”

Rehearsals are fully back on schedule and Zuko has been going back more and more to his audition monologue. What he performed the night he first met Sokka. The night he first stumbled into that newest home of his.

In his dreams he fights against ocean waves in Malibu. He almost drowned running after a crab. He doesn’t recall why, but he was trying to save it. Maybe a bird was going to eat it. That sounds right. It’s murky. He was just a kid, his age a single digit number. If it weren’t for his mother fishing him out, screaming and begging for help that never came, he’d have been left for dead. Ozai would probably have let the current take him. Ozai would have just casually allowed him to die in the water. Zuko is pretty sure Ozai completely ignored the situation as it was unfolding. That would make the most sense, anyway. If anything, he probably regretted not actively preventing Zuko’s rescue. And he was angry later. He was so angry later. They’d made an unnecessary scene in public, that couldn’t go unpunished. But all in all, Zuko doesn’t remember Malibu too well.

Water and fire chase after him in his mind until he wakes up gasping so harshly it quickly turns to dry heaving, his head spinning.

His chest hurts from the memories of both smoke inhalation and hours expelling the ocean from his lungs, and from the panic crashing down on him in the here and now.

He shouldn’t be here. It doesn’t make any sense for him to be here.

He finds himself hunched over the toilet with his head pounding. He isn’t throwing up and he’s actually pretty sure he’s not going to but he can’t stop heaving and gagging and with each lurch the stabbing in his temples sharpens and the clicking sounds and sensations of his spine startles and sears all that much more.

He shouldn’t fucking be here.

Zuko never thought he would live to see adulthood. Sometimes, it still doesn’t feel real to him that he has. All too often, he is still a thirteen year old in a fireplace taking what must be his final breaths.

He feels like sobbing. He isn’t. He doesn’t. He can’t.

He presses his palms flat along the tile of the bathroom floor, so groggy and dazed he doesn’t instantly know whose apartment he’s in. He is not one with reality at all in this moment and he’d like to find himself enough to successfully sneak away for a cigarette once he can be sure he isn’t going to vomit the moment he exits whichever bathroom this is.

He and Sokka have been going back and forth, probably spending roughly equal time in either unit. But always together. They haven’t slept alone in months.

Zuko doesn’t ever want to have to sleep without Sokka at his side again.

He stares at the floor, finally backing away from the toilet. He is as confident as he can be that nothing’s coming up, so it’s time to either head to the kitchen window or sneak out to the fire escape on the other side of this floor of Sokka’s building, because they are in Sokka’s building, Zuko is now also fairly confident about that.

He presses one hand into the scar on his face and the other against his aching chest. His heart and lungs hurt from his panicking, and the psychosomatic pain in both from his dreams hasn’t gone away.

There are scars of others’ hands there, too, of rough surfaces and sharp objects and “accidents.”

He eventually manages to push himself up and everything in him is screaming to go outside where the air is cold and damp and might snap him back into the present but he is aware enough to consider Sokka getting up and finding that Zuko isn’t anywhere in here, and possibly not being awake enough to consider that he’d only be out the door down the hall. Especially when he doesn’t need to go that far.

The kitchen it is.

His cigarettes and lighter are on the windowsill. They usually are whenever Zuko is here.

He opens the window, pulls up a chair from the table and just stares.

He doesn’t know what time it is. The clock on the oven is wrong and the one on the microwave was never set. It’s pitch black outside, though, the darkness broken only by the half moon and a few scattered stars shining through wisps of clouds. It’s gorgeous.

His throat is sore from all that gagging and not really breathing. His chest burns as he inhales. The smoke is light and tastes like menthol, nothing like the fire the night everything changed. But he is lost in it, anyway.

He thinks, too, of his chest slamming into the brick of the house exterior, then being dragged inside by the hair for the real violence. He thinks of broken glass and hard objects flying in his direction, of face meeting floor by a heavy hand, of scrapes and bruises passed off as clumsiness and general childhood mishaps.

His thumb starts to hurt and he realizes he’s been holding his lighter on too long. He wasn’t even looking, but he challenged it and he lost.

It’s fine. It’s fine.

He’ll give it another go later. He can’t beat it, but he will not let it beat him.

He will not fear fire. He will become it.

(Oh wow, he is tired, okay.)

He is so tired and every hit he takes only makes him feel infinitely worse and he should just go back to bed but he doesn’t want to dream.

He doesn’t want to be awake but sleep is no release.

He glances at his hands and that makes him smile. Suki had decided he should have a manicure similar to Mai’s. So while all of his nails remain short, they are all painted black save for both ring fingers, which are striped rainbow. Sokka had watched the whole time Suki was painting, and he had enjoyed it as much as Zuko himself.

Zuko has a lot of shame and self-hatred built up but his sexuality has never been part of it. And it does bring him a small bit of satisfaction knowing much how Ozai would hate that. Granted, Ozai would likely be rather pleased with how much his treatment of Zuko has impacted him as an adult and how much pain and burden he carries and how he can never be entirely open about his abuse for fear of someone with good intentions trying to take it public. Ozai would likely be pleased that Zuko still wakes up screaming because of him, that no matter how many years they’ve been separated Ozai will never stop teaching Zuko those lessons he told him time and again he deserved, and that he can keep it up without having to further sully his hands with this awful child he always hated.

But Zuko is not only wearing nail polish which legit suits him damn well, but he is using it to flaunt gay pride. A double win.

Of course, until he met Sokka, he didn’t really consider his sexuality as anything that mattered much to his own life. Men came and went, never more than one night stands, and they never were going to be. Who he was attracted to simply dictated who he would spend those kinds of nights with, nights which could be few and far between, but nothing more. He always left the beds of those often nameless warm bodies before morning. He was doomed to loneliness, after all, how could he have it any other way. He didn’t deserve this. He never deserved this.

He was never ashamed of being gay (although it helps and is likely no coincidence he didn’t figure it out until he was already officially Iroh’s son), and over the years his friends and family have encouraged him to take true pride in it and he does, but then Sokka makes it beautiful. He gets to be with Sokka. How does he deserve to get to be with Sokka?

He is too broken and Sokka has already been through too much. But for some reason, Sokka loves him. So he’s not going anywhere.

Zuko’s cigarettes are simultaneously bringing him back to himself and triggering him closer and closer into a full blown flashback.

He decides to have another one, but to make some chamomile tea first. It doesn’t help with sleep at all, but it’s another situation wherein Iroh made it into a comfort on the nights his insomnia plagues him worse than usual.

He microwaves his tea that he makes with a bag (which are blasphemous acts, but his dad never need know) and stops the microwave at the one second mark so it doesn’t beep and wake up anyone fortunate enough to not be aimlessly floating through the purgatory between sleeping and waking, between panicked and numb.

Smoking hurts a little less with a cup of chamomile and honey in hand.

All that’s missing to distinguish this from his usual pre-Sokka sleepless nights is his phone to scroll through traumacore memes on Facebook (with his profile under the name of Lee Mushi, Jr., because one can never be too careful when there are people out there by whom one never wants to be found—not that they wouldn’t know exactly where to look, but internet anonymity seems wise for his circumstances in any case) and perhaps something with synth and heavy guitar playing at low volume.

“Zuko?”

Suki. Huh. Zuko figured if he’d wake anyone, it would be Sokka simply as a result of his absence. He thought he was being quiet enough not to bother Suki.

“Sorry, was I making too much noise?”

Suki chuckles. “No, not at all. I got up to pee and heard your mug on the countertop, but I never would have caught that from my room.”

At least he had removed himself from the bathroom floor in time for this.

“Oh. Okay. Good.”

He hasn’t turned to look at her, gazing at the moon and the stars and the clouds and the black and all the exquisite wonder of the sight at hand.

“Zuko, are you okay?”

There are too many answers coming into his mind all at once. None of them are good.

“No,” he settles on the simplest and most concise brand of honesty. “But that’s alright. I’ll be fine.”

Fine.

“Zuko…” Suki brings another chair closer to the window, unbothered by Zuko’s smoking. “You don’t have to, of course, but you can talk to me. I care about you a lot, you know. You’re my friend.”

“Sokka’s sort of like a brother to you, right?” He doesn’t look. He breathes deep.

“Yeah. He is very much like a brother to me. Why do you ask?”

“Do you seriously think I’m good enough for him?”

With his left hand he traces old scars along his right arm, and these scars are his. Be they burns or from blades, these were forged by his fingers and there is no one else to blame.

He doesn’t notice he’s doing it until Suki reaches for that hand and he stops moving it. He finishes his cigarette and decides he cannot handle another.

It hurts to breathe.

It hurts to be.

“I do,” Suki answers, soft and sincere. “I really do, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is what Sokka thinks, and I know that he adores you. I know that his smile reaches his eyes when it’s about you. I know you’re good for him, and I’ve never seen him so happy.”

“He doesn’t like it when I hurt myself.”

“Of course he doesn’t. People who love you never want to see you in that kind of pain.”

“Sometimes I forget that people…that people actually do love me now.”

And they really shouldn’t.

“That’s okay. But we do. And we all understand when you hurt yourself, it’s because you’re suffering, and no one wants you to suffer.”

“Heh, well, O—”

“Ozai doesn’t count. Ozai isn’t here. We’re talking about the people who deserve you, not some abusive dickhead you haven’t seen in thirteen years.”

“Yeah, fair, sorry.”

Zuko turns around there, accidentally brushing off the arm Suki had partially around him in holding his hands still.

Suki knows a bit about Zuko’s abuse. Not that the average person can’t just tell Zuko was abused, like he doesn’t wear it on his sleeve at all times, proclaiming to the whole world just in the way he carries himself that he was robbed of a childhood and ruined so early in life without ever having to say a word.

But Suki knows about the scar and who did it, because she came in once while Sokka was seeing him through a flashback. It was while Hakoda and Bato were in town and Zuko was in the early stages of trying not to be so scared of them. She heard him screaming bloody fucking murder and Sokka hadn’t known what to do, so Zuko explained it as well as he could while freaking out the way he was and she got more than enough. Sometimes she wishes she didn’t know or that she could forget.

Sometimes she wishes she could make him forget, that she could snap her fingers and make all of the long lasting effects of his trauma go away, that she could make all the pain it continues to cause him disappear.

“Suki, can I…can I tell you something?”

He’s holding both of her hands now. He isn’t sure when that happened or who initiated.

“Of course,” she replies with a kind sympathy, like she already knows.

“I don’t think anyone but my dad and my sister know, but…” Sokka doesn’t and I’m not sure I can ever tell him. “Umm, I’ve hurt myself more than just…you know. I mean, I…I’ve tried to, uh, to end it. A few times. Obviously it didn’t work, it’s never worked because I’m a fucking failure at ev—fuck, no, never mind. But…I know Sokka’s lost a lot and I know that’s why it hurts him so much more than it should when I hurt myself but I don’t know if I can promise it’s not going to get that bad again and I hate what I could put him through and that he’d blame himself when the only thing he did wrong was not realizing he could do so much better than this, but—”

And then Suki’s arms are wrapped around Zuko and his face is pressed into her neck and she’s murmuring in his ear about how it will be okay, making her own promises she knows she can’t keep but knowing that look in Zuko’s eyes from how often she’s seen it in Sokka’s, and just wanting her chosen family to not have to be so fucking sad all the time.

“I don’t want anything like that to happen to you, either,” she tells him. “No one does. You are loved, Zuko. But no matter what happens, I’d be there for Sokka. I would do everything I could to try to help him realize it wasn’t his fault. But we both know—”

“We both know he’d still believe it was,” Zuko sighs. “I know.”

Suki pulls back to look him in the eye. She knows he won’t meet hers in return but she doesn’t mind. It’s the gesture of how important what she has to say is, and that’s what she’s aiming to get through.

“I don’t know how you’re feeling with that right now and I’m not going to ask if you don’t want to talk about it, but…I get staying alive just to make other people happy is bullshit and it isn’t a sustainable way to live, but if you can just go with that for now, and then maybe later…”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Zuko, to be fair, is not actually actively suicidal at the moment, but it has been a real effort to keep his self injury under control and he has not gone without slipping up, and he has been passively suicidal at best since he was a fucking kid and has been pretty sure for years that he is more than likely damned to eventually take his own life, no matter how much things can look up between now and then. If destiny or fate somehow does have different ideas for him, that would genuinely be great, but up until this precise breakthrough via breakdown he has always seen suicide as an inevitability.

And it has been a factor before that he didn’t want to do that to Iroh or Toph, but Sokka adds another layer that feels so much heavier somehow.

Zuko slumps against Suki, worn out and exhausted and emotionally drained. The ability to keep his eyes open is suddenly abandoning him, and the threat of more nightmares is being covered over by the promise of more Sokka snuggles if he returns to bed.

He is so far gone.

“I hope I haven’t woken him up,” Zuko mumbles. Sokka doesn’t sleep as well as he used to since the accident. Sometimes it’s because of the pain, sometimes it’s because he dreamt Toph was hit instead of him because he wasn’t fast enough and couldn’t stop it.

“It’ll be okay, Zuko,” Suki smiles at him. “You should go back to bed, though. Both of you need all the sleep you can get.”

“You’re telling me.”

Zuko does return to bed and Sokka pulls him in close, so close, every muscle in his arms flexing as he clings to Zuko in the tightest possible grip.

“I can’t go through that again,” Sokka slurs, barely awake, but apparently awake enough to have overheard. “Please, Zuko. No.”

Zuko doesn’t know what to say. He isn’t sure if Sokka will remember anything about this the next day, and he doubts Sokka will say anything about it even if he does.

“I’m here, Sokka,” Zuko has to say something, though. “I’m here now. I love you.”

“Mmpf. Love you, too.” Sokka’s mouth doesn’t even open to reply, his words hardly decipherable without his lips moving along with them. But that’s okay. It’s enough. And maybe that’s a good sign, that he really isn’t aware enough to keep anything he caught from Zuko’s talk with Suki in his head.

(If only.)

Sokka will spend the rest of the night haunted by dreams of pulling Zuko from the Kvichak River and laying him next to Yue.

Not that he hadn’t figured out by now that Zuko had such a history, Toph’s “again” perpetually haunting him, but getting confirmation from a distant discussion with his best friend he could only partially make out given how he isn’t anywhere near properly awake…

He isn’t sure he ever needed to know for certain. Speculation was easier since there was always the slim chance he could be wrong.

But it will be different this time. It has to be.

He couldn’t love her enough but he won’t make that mistake again. He won’t.

He wakes up crying sometime after sunrise. He and Zuko have swapped positions, Zuko’s arms over Sokka like a weighted blanket. Zuko is stronger than he looks, too. He hasn’t kept up with his martial arts training very well in recent years but he has built up and managed to keep a decent amount of muscle tone all the same.

And right now he is grateful for that because he knows he can hold Sokka the way he needs to be held.

Sokka wiggles himself around enough to be able to turn his head to kiss Zuko without breaking out of his arms. Zuko’s lips taste of an odd and frankly rather unpleasant combination of old cigarettes, tea, and morning, but soft and warm they feel like security, like sanctuary, like…home.

“I can’t go through that again,” Sokka says again, whispering into Zuko’s mouth, yet half-asleep and not one hundred percent aware of himself, drifting through the haze of a new day as though he remains trapped in a dream.

Zuko is like a fire, blazing strong and hot and so alive. His presence is so fierce and grounding all at once that the world would surely come to a screeching halt were he to abruptly leave it for any reason.

“I want you to come home with me,” Sokka doesn’t really notice himself saying. “Not now but like…soonish? Just for a few days maybe. I want to take you home.”

Zuko is glad Sokka isn’t looking at him, that he misses how his eyes widen and his whole self freezes like a deer in the headlights.

“I…” he considers his response, and he knows his boyfriend is too tired and out of it to be holding this kind of conversation, but his honest answer sneaks up on him. “I think that sounds nice, love.”

It’s important, that’s apparent. He understands how it would be. If he had left Ba Sing Se and met Sokka somewhere else, he would probably want to bring him here in the same position.

And he thinks he could—that he would—do absolutely fucking anything for Sokka. For Sokka, who deserves everything.

“Mmmmm,” Sokka hums contentedly and his body loosens, relaxing into Zuko.

Zuko hopes one does not at any stage of the journey have to cross through Canadian customs to get to Alaska from here given that he does not have a passport. He’s never had to think about the most convenient and inexpensive routes to Alaska before. He imagines it must be possible. But that’s something he and Sokka can discuss when either of them are legitimately capable of coherently holding a serious conversation, unlike now.

But he does want to go, surprisingly, and he would follow Sokka to the ends of the earth and back if he asked.

As his eyes start closing on him again, it is brought to his attention that he must have said some of that out loud, as Sokka breathes out, “That’s gay, babe.”

“Mmhm,” Zuko kisses Sokka’s shoulder and steps closer and closer to the line between here and falling completely back to sleep. “So gay. So fucking gay for you.”

“Mm…real gay for you.” Sokka laughs through his nose, and he quickly tumbles over that line, himself.

Sokka falls through the abyss, holding Zuko’s hand, and then they separate and now it’s Sokka who’s stranded and floating, further and further away, being swallowed by Lake Iliamna until Yue catches up to him. “You couldn’t protect me.”

But he tried, he tried so hard, he wanted to—

“You couldn’t protect me, Sokka. No one could. I will always love you. He’ll love you, too.”

Sokka wakes up again to his face pressed into Zuko’s chest, Zuko’s face from the nose down squished into Sokka’s hair, and Zuko again keeping a vice like grip on Sokka’s upper body.

So warm and cozy, comfortable, safe.

Sokka’s eyes hurt but he drifts off once more, snug and undeniably cherished.

Don’t let go, don’t let go.

Please stay close. You feel like home.

Chapter Text

Sokka is deep in conversation with Teo’s dad, and Zuko isn’t sure he has ever seen him this animated. He is grinning ear to ear exchanging ideas with a literal engineering genius.

This is where Sokka is supposed to be.

No one knows this man’s name. No one is sure if even Teo knows it. Everyone else just refers to him as The Mechanist. To call him eccentric would be an understatement and a half, but Sokka just laughed that he respects that level of dedication to his craft.

The other thing, though, and the part that has truly gripped Zuko’s attention, is that he called Sokka a genius. Someone with a Doctorate from MIT called Sokka a genius.

And by god is it obvious Sokka needed this.

Zuko has no fucking clue what they’re talking about otherwise. None at all. But Sokka’s knowledge—all of his mind blowingly self-taught knowledge—is impressive to The Mechanist, too. That is validation on a level Zuko could never supply. This is beautiful to watch.

This isn’t the first time they’d met but Sokka decided (with some encouragement from Zuko) to ask him if he had any ideas about that ramp in the theatre he’s been fixating on, and the answer was a hard yes. And then they got to talking, and Zuko is pretty sure he’s just lost his boyfriend forever to a future of unending conversations involving way too many numbers and technical terms to follow but it’s worth it to see that smile.

He told Zuko he had wanted to be an architect because it’s the perfect intersection of art and math and that’s where his heart was, but Zuko sees his heart here more than he has ever seen it before, beating loud and bright before them.

He tells The Mechanist about watching Bill Nye and Carl Sagan as a child and the spark that ignited in him, and Zuko sees that spark blazing.

Sokka is truly extraordinary.

He tells The Mechanist all about how he “invented” the hot air balloon when he was in kindergarten, how it was almost perfectly the same schematics as actual working balloons and how devastated he’d been to find out they already existed, but how impressed his parents and teachers were.

And then comes the self-deprecation, Sokka rambling nervously that no amount of talent and intelligence in the world could save him from failing to achieve his dreams, so it turns out none of that was ever worth anything anyway.

“Sokka, my boy…” This should be good. Zuko recognizes that voice. It’s pep talk time.

And then he goes off on a rant about how it’s never too late and all of Sokka’s potential and how he would be honored to have him as an apprentice someday and the possibility of looking into trade schools or community colleges to get his feet wet and/or get his core classes out of the way in an environment that wouldn’t judge him based on his high school performance, and Sokka looks so amazed at having his new hero believe in him this much.

And then The Mechanist asks him what kind of engineering he would go into and he admits he has no idea, immediately rushing into talking about his interests in industrial, aero- and astronautical, and mechanical engineering, while also arguing essentially with himself about the merits of going into civil engineering, with someone who knows what the hell he’s saying. Sokka is thriving.

Zuko has never seen him this passionate. He has never seen anything so beautiful.

***

“Hey, babe, look at my new stickers!”

Sokka’s car is covered in them. Zuko might actually not have noticed the new additions if they weren’t currently being brought directly to his attention.

Next to the bi pride flag that was already there is now a rainbow flag, and beneath that is a sticker which reads, “I’m not gay but my boyfriend is.”

Sokka expects Zuko to smile. He doesn’t.

He just looks sad.

“What if you break up with me?”

Sokka shakes his head and kisses Zuko’s forehead. “First of all, why is it only me doing the breaking up in how very specifically you phrased this question?”

Because I would never break up with you. Because you’re too good for me and this is so much better than I deserve and I will never have anything this good again if I lose it. Because I know I am so lucky to have you and I’m sure I’n going to fuck it up someday but I would never, ever fuck it up on purpose.

“Because…” Zuko clears his throat awkwardly. “Just because.”

“Well, second of all…I’d be fucking heartbroken and probably have to get a new sticker to cover it if you broke up with me, but I super hope you’re not planning on doing that and I’m sure as hell not planning on doing the awful thing you said, so I’m also not planning on worrying about it.”

“Okay. Fair. In that case, I love it.”

“Good, because I totally bought that on a t-shirt, too.”

***

They’re at the same fountain they were visiting the first time they held hands. It’s not as weird now that Zuko knows why Sokka liked to come here, to sit somewhere without much fear of being caught and draw his surroundings alone in relative peace.

“Pretty clouds,” Sokka says with a smile, staring at the sky.

“Yeah,” Zuko sighs, looking up straight on, lying on his back at the edge. “Fluffy.”

This fountain was also definitely what Sokka used as the basis of his turtleduck pond drawing, Zuko sees that now.

Sokka is on the ground, art supplies on his lap, looking around and messily sketching what’s around him in a more abstract style.

They came here to get Zuko out of his head. He’d been looking at bootleg videos online of performances of Love Amongst the Dragons from across the country, yet regretting not being able to bring himself to attend a show when it was here. Noriko truly is amazing as the Dragon Empress, and Ikem is also incredible in his role as Noren. Zuko is still so proud of her and so happy she found someone who apparently loves her the way she deserves to be loved. She says the same thing of not only Zuko with Iroh and Toph, but also of Zuko with Sokka.

It is also weird as hell seeing Ikem and knowing who he is—step-father doesn’t feel real, given that they’ve never met or even spoken, anymore than half-sister does regarding Kiyi despite Zuko’s initial offense at Noriko not using it. This is all new and oh so strange and too hard to wrap his head around and it keeps Zuko reeling and he doesn’t understand what or how he is supposed to think or feel and Sokka keeps trying to tell him there’s no rulebook here, no set guide or precedent for “normal” or whatever but it’s all just so…off.

If Zuko didn’t have an opening shift in the morning, they’d probably be about fifty miles or more outside the city by now. But they decided not to go far, just to be safe. They simply needed to go somewhere, to do something. And this works, too. This works well.

Zuko lies down on the rim and positions himself just right so he can use one hand to chainsmoke and the other to play with Sokka’s hair. He loves the feeling of the undercut beneath his ponytail (or wolftail, as Sokka informed him it’s cultural tradition to call his hairstyle). This is peaceful.

“The sky is beautiful,” Zuko utters quietly. “You know, I used to think it would be really cool to get to go to space someday. See the stars up close. Get the fuck off this planet. But then I found out how much math is involved, and then motion sickness is a thing, so…I guess some dreams aren’t meant to come true.”

“The most beautiful star I’ve ever seen isn’t in the sky,” Sokka replies, turning his head to face Zuko with a smirk.

“That was so fucking cheesy, you know that.”

“It made you smile, though.”

And Sokka is correct, it did. There is no arguing that point.

“Asshole,” Zuko laughs. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you, too, babe.”

***

Suki loses her shit the first time Sokka wears the “I’m not gay but my boyfriend is” shirt.

Better yet, it’s when a bunch of their friends are at the Jasmine Dragon just hanging out.

“Nice top,” she chuckles at him.

“Yeah, I am, aren’t I?” Sokka answers, and Katara facepalms and Ty Lee giggles and Zuko knowingly looks directly at Suki.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

Suki simply grins. “Maybe a little.”

***

It’s a different kind of intimacy, the way Zuko’s lips capture Sokka’s knee.

The gentle kisses he places upon it and around it, how his fingers will follow the trail rubbing gentle circles, so warm and tender, whenever the new pain is obviously starting to flare, which Zuko always notices.

It’s like the first time Zuko had noticed the scars on Sokka’s thumb, dark and surprisingly large for their placement, and asked where it came from. And when Sokka told him he’d torn up that skin as a child trying to remove a stuck fish hook with another fish hook, Zuko hadn’t laughed. Everyone laughs when they hear that story, but not Zuko. No, he pressed Sokka’s thumb against the parting line of his mouth, placing the smallest and sweetest kisses over the mark. Sokka feels like that was Zuko at his most authentic—just the two of them, concerned about a minor pain long past and the only person ever to not make it a joke. All Zuko cared about was that it had hurt once, and there could be nothing comical about that to him.

Zuko’s eyes are bright and sharp, like staring at the sun except their piercing isn’t painful, they don’t burn in return but soothe and soften. Sokka gazes into them with each tiny peck Zuko leaves along his aching skin, the way he looks straight into Sokka in a manner he isn’t usually capable of. His head rests between Sokka’s legs, and there is nothing sexual about it. He can’t keep his hands away from the left side, cradling and coddling, lips and fingertips dancing over the sore reminders of those shattered bones and broken skin, of the bravery Zuko can never thank him enough for, of the fear from that memory which has yet to pass for either of them.

But losing Sokka would break him as much as losing Toph. When he tries to explain this, Sokka is resolute, forever standing by his actions. There was no real winning in that situation, it’s true, and all Zuko can do now is be grateful neither of them had to lose their lives. He wishes Sokka hadn’t gotten so hurt, of course, but at least Zuko still has both his sister and his boyfriend alive with him and who knows if that would be the case had Sokka not pushed and protected. Zuko’s gratitude for his actions must always be amended by his insistence Sokka never do anything like that again, but…

Sokka is a remarkable human being. The fact he doesn’t see it is incomprehensible to Zuko.

But of course, Sokka feels exactly the same towards Zuko.

Zuko, who is loudly and involuntarily cracking at the knuckles, wrist, elbow, and shoulder, all the way up and down, as he caresses Sokka’s leg, supplying comfort via his natural warmth and affection. He is audibly without using his voice hurting himself in trying to provide for Sokka, his joints themselves doing all the complaining on their own behalf, and he refuses to back off.

Self-sacrificing idiots, the both of them.

And Sokka knows there is nothing he can do about Zuko’s refusal to mind his own pain better, so he just leans into the touch, melts as Zuko nuzzles his face against Sokka’s thigh, and Sokka holds the turtleduck tight in his arms and breathes it in. It smells like Zuko and feels like love and home.

Home.

Not a place, but a feeling. People.

Zuko recently watched Sokka play through Mass Effect 3 and got to see that character with the rich, evil “father” kill the man and he had been fucking thrilled, and Sokka knew he would be.

“Must be nice,” it was Sokka who said, and Zuko laughed quietly.

“How’s this feel, love?” Zuko asks, his breath hot against the crook of Sokka’s knee.

“You feel great, babe. But it’d feel better if you weren’t hurting, too.”

“I’m always hurting.”

“Zuko. Sweetheart. Come on.”

Zuko still isn’t sure if Sokka really understands that, though. That always is not an exaggeration. It is not hyperbolic, it is entirely literal. Zuko has no concept of what it feels like to not be in debilitating physical pain. He hasn’t since he was too young to remember.

“Sokka.” Lips press upon skin, hands glide. “Love of my life. I want you to feel better.”

Love of my life. That’s a new one. Sokka smiles at the implications, the promise of permanence.

But it’s colder and colder by the day, the air cutting through Sokka’s bones and the metal keeping them together like a knife, and if Zuko does later accompany him home, there’s a decent chance this is how they are going to spend a significant amount of their time.

Sokka can’t fight it. He wants to, but he does not currently possess the strength.

“Fuck, Zuko, how do you do that?”

“Autonomic nervous system machine broke.” Zuko’s voice is deadpan, he is genuinely trying to be funny but it’s not.

Sokka appreciates using his boyfriend as a heating pad, sure, but it sucks considering how he got to be that way.

“I’m always hurting.” And fuck, he means that. And Sokka knows, he does. He listens, he’s heard the stories and catches the noises, he sees the faces. But it’s difficult to comprehend that “always” means always and what is being used right this very moment to assist Sokka is part of that and…

Sokka’s breath hitches, the sound of a swallow trapped in his throat echoes throughout the room, and in an instant Zuko has Sokka’s face buried in his chest, absorbing the tears from Sokka’s eyes with his shirt, holding Sokka until it stops.

This beautiful man, so full of heart, so filled with love, overflowing with kindness and empathy, and somehow Zuko is his.

“What is it?” Zuko clutches Sokka’s head, runs a hand through his hair. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

It has to scare him, thinking about it while he’s learning to live with it. He doesn’t want to live like me. “Always” must be unfathomable. That has to be horrifying.

Sokka isn’t even properly crying, not exactly, but he is emotional and his eyes are wet and that’s enough for Zuko to leap up, to shift, to do anything he can. Sokka deserves everything, more than Zuko could ever give him, but for as long as Sokka will have him he will do all he can to give him what he needs.

“I wish I could take it all away from you.” Sokka’s voice is broken and fragile, just like Zuko’s body. “I wish I could take away all the hell you’ve been through. I wish I could make it better.”

“You do, Sokka. You do make it better. Just by being with you, it’s better. I promise.”

During Katara’s first summer break in college, she and Aang and Sokka had taken an impromptu weekend road trip with no set destination (although Sokka was dying to go through Ohio just to get a photo of the infamous “Hell Is Real” sign), and as they drove through Makapu, on a whim Katara had insisted they stop at the psychic shop they passed, pulling a highly illegal u-turn to turn back to get there.

Sokka had called Aunt Wu’s parlor “the house of nonsense,” and her receptionist had been so aggressively thirsty for Aang while Aang had remained completely blissfully ignorant that it was as painful as it was hilarious. Of course Sokka made his skepticism and his disdain for this scam no secret, and while Katara and Aang had both been quite pleased with the predictions they were given, Sokka will never forget what Aunt Wu told him, and for free no less.

“Your future is full of struggle and anguish, most of it self-inflicted.”

And yeah, maybe his leg will never fully recover and he’s endured too much hell of his own, but he can’t help thinking that, as he turns into a puddle in Zuko’s arms, that fraud truly could not have been more wrong about him.

Chapter Text

Zuko hasn’t done makeup in a while. Sokka has never seen it, didn’t even know that’s a thing he’ll ever do on stage.

But the first time he catches the kit, one day in Zuko’s bedroom, he is vocal about his opinions.

Sokka asks him what the hell he’s doing, and he readily explains. The play isn’t that far off now, and he is terribly out of practice.

A stick of green base to layer under a tube of foundation to conceal his scar, a dark pencil to fabricate an eyebrow. He can get rather painstaking about the detail; if it didn’t take so damn long to get it done close enough to his liking, even though he can never make it as convincing as he tries to, he’d definitely do it drastically more often.

And Sokka is obviously upset by it. “All the theatre people are friends with your dad but they still have the nerve to want you to—”

“No, they don’t,” Zuko defends hastily. “I just…I want me to.”

“Well, you shouldn’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t,” Sokka tells him. It doesn’t sound as confident as he intends, afraid to overstep some unspoken boundary but aching inside to see Zuko so desperate to hide himself.

“Zuko, don’t… Don’t try to look like someone else. They cast you, scar and all.”

“You know, I am playing someone else. Edmund Tyrone doesn’t have a scar on his face. His father can be kind of an asshole, too, yeah, but he didn’t fucking do that to either of his kids. I don’t see the harm in not looking like me when I’m not being me.”

“So? Maybe Edmund could have, like, a birthmark, or he got it in an accident, or—I don’t know, it doesn’t matter! It’s not fucking Broadway, and you’re the one who said you don’t even want to be on Broadway, so you don’t—if no one’s making you hide it, then you shouldn’t.”

“Sokka—”

“Okay, tell me, who are you doing this for? Is it for Edmund, or is it because you want an excuse to look different?”

“Wait, here, let me…” Zuko is no longer sure what he’s trying to prove, but he runs out to the living room and starts digging around for the obscene amount of photo albums Iroh has lying about. Iroh likes to have physical copies, and he was ecstatic whenever hipster trends brought Polaroids back.

Zuko finds one of those many books and brings it to Sokka, flipping through the pages. He locates several pictures of himself as Hamlet, his elaborate makeup well done up in all of them.

“See? Just for a few nights I can…I can be…”

He struggles to get out the word “normal,” and Sokka beats him to speaking again anyway.

“I hate it.”

“What? How can you—”

Sure, he’s no professional and it looks a little strange with his inability to get all of the redness down and the scarred skin is visibly rough and patchy as hell underneath the layers of green stick and foundation and there is the inescapable issue of the eye that can’t fully open, which does seem a bit more obvious when the scar itself is made less obvious, but…

“This… Zuko, that doesn’t look like you. Why would anyone want to see some knockoff version when the most gorgeous and amazing person is right here and already fucking perfect?”

“A ‘knockoff’ version? An undamaged version, you mean?” Zuko’s temper is flaring and he can’t calm it. He fucking hates letting Sokka see this side of him, Sokka never deserves to have to deal with this god awful side of him, but. But. This is important to Sokka and that doesn’t make any sense to him, he doesn’t get why Sokka won’t just let him have this without a fight. “The version I’m supposed to be? The one my mom assumed I’d be? Not the face that’s been fucked over forever and probably hurt her more than it ever hurt me? This fucking broken, pitiful mess that wears its abuse like a fucking flag?”

Sokka now sees what this is really about. It’s tradition for Zuko to mask himself when he believes he has an excuse either way, but there’s a reason it’s making him so mad now. “Your mom is coming up for a show, isn’t she?”

And Zuko crumbles.

Sokka would never admit it out loud, but he’s always glad (not quite the right word, but…) to see Zuko cry. It’s a rarity and it didn’t take him long to realize how much he needs it—Sokka himself is well versed in the necessity of a good cry. So for as hard as it can be to watch the person he loves in so much pain, he has to appreciate seeing him find that release.

All of Zuko’s anger turns into sadness and grief and fear and desperation—or more like it reverts to what was its true form to begin with—and he collapses in on himself, curling up while still sitting into almost an upright fetal position, folding himself in half to contain everything spilling out of him, making himself smaller to hold it all in.

“Opening night,” he squeaks out, each syllable forced and painful, hard to make out. “And she…she’s bringing…her…she’s bringing her…her f-fa-family…”

Her family, he says. And he can barely say family at all.

There it is.

“I don’t want them to blame her for what happened,” Zuko whimpers, almost impossible to make out. “If they blame her for leaving, if they see her any differently because of what happened when she was gone…”

For far from the first time, Sokka feels his heart shatter into a million pieces. Zuko is this upset about seeing his mother and meeting her new family and while Sokka just knows he’s anxious as fuck about it for his own sake, too, the fact that Noriko is his first priority is…

“I’m sorry, Sokka… I’m sorry…”

Sokka never realizes he can love Zuko more, until he does.

He reaches for Turtleduck and then decides that might not actually be the right call for this situation.

So instead he wraps himself around Zuko, arms and legs smothering him, Zuko’s head on Sokka’s shoulder, sobbing into his neck.

“Breathe with me, baby. Breathe with me. Deep breaths, come on.”

In and out, the typical routine, Zuko shaking but bringing himself down following Sokka’s rhythm. It feels weird sometimes, how often they guide each other through the act of breathing but neither can ever manage to do it for themselves when they need it if they’re alone.

But that’s okay. They’re not alone. They make each other better with every step, every breath.

And then another thought strikes Sokka, and it is an impressive one if he does say so.

“Hey. Zuko. Babe. I have an idea.”

Zuko peels himself away just enough to look to Sokka, wide eyes asking for an explanation without saying a word.

“We’re going to the mall,” Sokka says, and Zuko immediately shakes his head.

“No. Too much. Too loud. Pain.”

Sokka can hear Zuko’s back cracking every time he moves at all, a result of legitimate spinal degeneration, he can only imagine how much that must hurt considering how sickening every sound is. It isn’t the average crack, either; it’s a hard crunch and it makes Sokka’s skin crawl.

(He’ll never say the words again, he swears it, but contemplating how that day to day life experience must go really is terrifying and not something he could ever fathom having to do.)

“Okay,” Sokka nods, Zuko flush against him again already. “Okay, we don’t have to go right now. But just trust me, alright?”

“I do,” Zuko answers without hesitation. “You’re too good to me.”

“There is no such thing.”

***

They go the next day.

Even on weekdays, the place is overwhelming. Being the biggest mall in such a big city, there is virtually no such thing as a slow time here.

But it’s the one with what Sokka’s here for.

Sokka knows Zuko’s never been here because he took advantage of his not feeling up to going right away and asked both Iroh and Toph, and both seemed one hundred percent sure Sokka was planning to provide him a first.

They’re getting close to the store and Sokka is ridiculously excited to see how Zuko reacts, bouncing on his heels with every step he takes, and he is positive literally nothing can go wrong (definitely not, this was brilliant, it can’t go anything but well!). The only thing he is more sure about in his entire life right now is Zuko himself.

“Close your eyes,” Sokka instructs when they are directly in front of their destination, not going to make him walk or ask him for any longer than that but dying to hold onto some element of surprise, and Zuko responds to this by staring at Sokka like he’s insulted his honor.

“No.”

“Please, Zuko, just for a second, trust me.”

And Zuko can’t resist the glimmer in his eyes, the nervous smile on his face.

And, once again, that fucking “trust me.”

Zuko isn’t sure when he became the kind of person who could just do that so easily, but…

(But he knows exactly when. Of course he does.)

“Fine.”

Zuko breathes in and reminds himself who it is he’s dealing with, that this is Sokka and that means whatever is about to happen, he is safe.

He closes his eyes and lets Sokka grip his shoulders, slowly and carefully guiding him to turn around to face…

“Okay. And open!”

…Build-a-Bear.

And just as Sokka anticipated (desperately hoped), Zuko’s whole face lights up.

Zuko does think to protest, something about how it might be weird for them to go in as adults and wondering if he should pretend he’s shopping for an absent child or something, but Sokka just happily pushes him past the threshold and to the wall of potential future plushies to pick from, and he is quick to draw attention to every single cat he spots as he spots them.

“I’m buying,” Sokka tells him, and Zuko is then excessively relieved to see Sokka pick one out for himself, grabbing the shell of a rainbow panda from a bin. “Come on.”

Zuko predictably selects a cat, specifically one labelled “Pastel Swirl Kitty,” and follows close behind Sokka, and he doesn’t know precisely what he would have expected from this experience but he is delighted by what he gets.

There are no questions and no judgment, and he is certain the company must have training on how to treat adults like children and somehow make that a good thing. Because no, he is not infantilized, not at all, he simply walked into an area inarguably intended for kids and is not treated any differently for being there for himself.

Sokka and Zuko are led through the building process, and Sokka decides they each need to kiss the other’s tiny hearts before they are stuffed into their new toys (which makes the employee assisting them—who themself is sporting one pink, purple, and blue beaded bracelet and one black, grey, white, and purple beaded bracelet—smile warmly). And the way everything is done with such joy and love, and not only how even the customer service workers don’t look like they hate their lives and pray for death every night before bed, but also how kind and encouraging they are moving Zuko down the assembly line…

This is a downright magical afternoon.

Sokka made the right call, and he would be taking a million pictures right now if he didn’t know Zuko would shut down on him if he tried.

At checkout they are asked if they want bags or if they just want to carry their purchases out, which Zuko isn’t sure whether or not that’s protocol or if it is only because he is clutching his kitty to his chest so tight every muscle and tendon in his arms are visibly tensing, but he can’t even care. Both he and Sokka forgo having the stuffies pried away from them, and Sokka is starting to limp just enough for Zuko to see it but his face does not fall.

Zuko’s body is also sore and exhausted and he has internally determined that that are ordering out for dinner and that he is paying, and that neither of them are engaging in any more even remotely physical activity for the rest of the day, but that they are going straight home to introduce Kitty and Turtleduck and lay around with them and the bear Sokka has dubbed Foo Foo Cuddlypoops, a name which Zuko has made clear he will not call “the poor little guy.”

“Hey, it’s more creative than Kitty, thank you very much,” Sokka teases.

“More creative doesn’t mean better, or good,” Zuko shoots back. “But I never named the turtleduck anything else and I don’t want her to feel—mm, uh, so it’s only fair for them to match.”

Sokka finds he cannot possibly dispute this, and it’s too cute anyway. Sokka says he will shorten the bear’s unfortunate moniker to Foo Foo. Zuko decides he will be calling it Cuddles. Sokka agrees.

(When Zuko was a child, he decided he liked the name Druk for the future cat of his dreams. That name, however, is reserved for an actual living, breathing feline, not one of the plush variety, however loved a plush may be. He keeps that much to himself for the time being, though, as it doesn’t feel particularly pertinent.)

“Also, you are putting something on your knee when we get back, okay?” Zuko gently nudges Sokka with his elbow on the escalator back up to the entrance they parked closest to, and Sokka frowns for a second and then exhales slowly.

He has to get used to it. It’s okay to have this problem, it’s okay for there to be a rough adjustment period, and he has to get used to it.

And Zuko always has tubes of diclofenac and arnica gels on hand, and he is always more than willing to share. Zuko is so helpful and understanding and patient.

Zuko keeps telling him it’s the least Sokka deserves. Sokka is grateful to have him.

Sokka deserves all the care and compassion the world could ever offer, and that would be true even if it weren’t for all the care and compassion he has shown to Zuko. But Zuko is simply giving back. It’s not rocket science. And hell, considering the conversations he’s overheard between Sokka and The Mechanist lately, Sokka might well understand rocket science anyway. So he has to learn to understand this.

“Hey. Earth to Zuko.”

Zuko realizes he had completely zoned out for a moment there, and that he was just standing at the car door instead of opening it and getting in.

“What are you thinking about, babe?”

“Just how much I love you.”

This is love, this is love, this is real, how the hell.

And he sounds so fucking sincere that somehow not even Sokka doubts him for a second.

“Wait, really?” he asks anyway, because self-deprecating disbelief doesn’t completely pass him by all the same.

Zuko nods and smiles, and Sokka of course informs him of how much he loves him, too, and then he gets into the passenger’s seat and holds both their stuffed animals while Sokka drives.

***

Sokka is legitimately surprised and pleased by how well the diclofenac gel works. Zuko volunteering to be the one to apply it with his soft, warm hands certainly helps, too, though.

“You know what else would be cute?” Sokka alas while Zuko tenderly rubs his leg, looking at Turtleduck.

“What’s that, love?”

“Otterpenguins. I adore the turtleduck, don’t get me wrong, but we need an otterpenguin, too.”

Zuko laughs and almost mentions looking into commissioning one on Etsy or something, but he keeps his mouth shut because now he has a great gift idea for later and he’s not giving that away.

“That would be really cute,” he does say, and he happily watches Sokka relax, watches the most obvious of Sokka’s pain subside beneath his palms.

“Come here, babe,” Sokka holds Zuko’s wrist, careful not to actually pull on it and risk hurting him, but making his point.

Zuko shimmies towards and meets Sokka’s mouth with his and okay, maybe they can put together the spoons for one more physical activity today…

Zuko needs to wash the medication off of his hands before they proceed, and he hopes Sokka doesn’t notice that he shields Turtleduck, Kitty, and Cuddles’s eyes before climbing back in to bed.

Sokka very much does notice but doesn’t say a damn thing about it, just privately revels in how sweet and precious Zuko is and how endearing all the little quirks he’d be embarrassed about if Sokka were to draw attention to them are.

Instead, as Zuko starts teasing with his mouth, Sokka whispers, “You’re too good to me.”

And just like Sokka would, Zuko looks up just to reply, “No such thing.”

Chapter Text

Sometimes a group of friends just needs a nice, chill movie night.

It’s Zuko, Mai, Ty Lee, and Toph over at Sokka and Suki’s, and this party is going drastically better than the last one.

Well, except for the fact the movie in question has pissed off everyone.

“Well, at least now there’s some representation in god awful hella formulaic holiday romances?” Suki shrugs, disappointed but pointing out what she legitimately sees as the one silver lining.

“Everybody responsible for this atrocity is going to Gay Hell,” Mai declares between handfuls of popcorn.

Suffice it to say, exactly no one was a fan of Happiest Season, and with the credits commences the complaining.

“Oh, but Kristen Stewart…” Suki argues.

“And Dan Levy,” Sokka follows. “I fucking love that guy. He even made this kind of watchable.”

“Okay, fair,” Mai agrees. “Everyone else, though.”

“What about Aubrey Plaza?” Ty Lee asks, and is immediately booed by Toph.

“Depends. She’s said some kind of TERF-y shit in the past and I don’t know if she’s ever learned and owned up to it or not. Either way, though, Abby definitely should have ended up with her instead of Harper.”

“Oh, fuck.” Ty Lee now looks like she did when she was a kid and found out there’s no such thing as unicorns (which both Mai and Zuko could verify, as they were both there). “Okay but we do have to forgive Clea DuVall for directing it because she was in But I’m a Cheerleader and that movie was, like, super formative for me.”

Mai nods. “I’ll allow it. Clea DuVall has been exonerated. Speaking of, I have a vote on what we watch now to cleanse ourselves of this fucking disaster.”

“Seconded!” Zuko raises his hand without missing a beat. “What? It’s one of my favorites!”

“I am both delighted to learn this and deeply disappointed I did not know this about you already,” Sokka laughs. “But honestly, I think Dolph was one of my first male crushes that I was legit consciously aware of having.”

“‘Dolph. Homosexual, varsity wrestler. How you doing?’” Zuko quickly quotes at Sokka.

“Aww, I love him! And at the end, Dolph sneaking out with Megan to the—” Ty Lee starts, and then Suki swats at her.

“Babe! What?”

“I’ve…” Suki then mumbles something completely unintelligible, and Ty Lee cocks her head.

“What was that, sweetheart?”

“I’ve actually never seen it, okay!”

“Sokka, you should be ashamed of yourself,” Ty Lee shouts.

“I am! Suki, how did you—why did you never— I saw this movie when I was like fifteen, I just assumed you’d seen it, too, what the hell?”

“How the fuck did you get away with seeing it that young?” Mai asks, clearly jealous of his lack of childhood repression.

“I, uh, swiped my parents’ copy because I knew it was about gay stuff and I was pretty sure at that point I was a gay stuff so I felt like I should,” Sokka shrugs. “My parents didn’t show it to me or anything but they weren’t mad about it, either. My dad and my mom loved that movie. I mean, Dad’s queer and it’s both their sense of humor, and when they found out I watched it that’s when I came out as bi, so it wasn’t really a big deal. Wow, Suki, you know, my dad’s going to be so disappointed in you, too…”

Mai’s expression is flat, and then she smiles. “Well, speaking of parents, mine suck but the last time I went down to visit my brother I found out my father actually has a physical fucking log book where he keeps his passwords and his credit card numbers—by which I mean I found the stupid book—so like, I can get us into his Prime account and we can rent it if it’s not free. And my coming out was a very big deal and that is not a fucking good thing so making him pay for for this is appropriate as fuck.”

Mai flashes her phone, which is open to a photo album filled with nothing but pictures taken of pages of the aforementioned journal and named “bc fuck that guy lmao.”

“Alright, let’s get Suki’s gay awakening going!” Toph laughs, and then so do the rest of them.

“That is so fucking rude. Don’t treat me like I’m straight just because I missed one fucking movie! Ty Lee, we just had sex like two hours ago!”

“She doth protest too much, huh,” Sokka elbows Suki in the side. “Ty Lee, how does it feel to know you’ve been banging a whole heterosexual this entire time?”

Ty Lee feigns a sniffle and wipes away an invisible tear. “I am currently questioning all of my life choices. I don’t even know who you are, Suki. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

“Two fucking hours ago! My whole face! Was in your vulva!”

Mai wraps an arm around her in comfort. “It’s okay, baby, you still have me. I swear I will never hurt you like this.”

“Come on, Mai, let’s get on with destraightifying Suki!” Toph insists. “Get those numbers out! Be gay, do crime!”

“I am being gay and doing crime, I just need someone to give me a remote or whatever so I can get the gay crime rolling.”

“I’m still gay, too,” Suki defends again, crossing her arms.

“Here you go, Mai,” Sokka passes along the remote, ignoring Suki’s protests.

“Seriously. All gay. Giant lesbian. One hundred percent certified homosexual. I. Like. Girls.”

And then literally everybody else in the room exclaims in unison, “‘A lot, I’m a homosexual!’”

And Suki just sighs, shakes her head, and murmurs under her breath, “Fuck all of you, I’m gayer than Sokka, at least.”

While Mai inputs her biofather’s payment information, Toph is in a good mood and therefore apparently decides this is a good time to make a bold move, trusting the people around them enough to know it won’t be weird regardless of outcome (and perhaps also as something of a power move to show off that illusion of utter invulnerability and fearlessness she keeps on display). “But hey, Suki, are you really exclusively girls girls, all binary, or do you ever find yourself looking at the occasional enby?”

“I like girls and I am definitely not into men or mascs but gender is also mostly a social construct anyway and sometimes I entertain the idea I might not be one hundred percent female and that does not at all negate my femininity or my sexual identity and that can easily be the same of others, so I could be open to—” Suki stops herself, looking quizzical for a moment. “Wait, Toph, are you…are you asking me out?”

“Maybe. Or, umm, I could go drown myself in your bathtub now and you could go ahead and let me do that.”

Suki leans towards Toph and kisses her on the cheek.

Zuko and Sokka both just stare at them, while Mai chuckles and Ty Lee outright giggles.

“What…just happened?” Zuko is obviously asking rhetorically, a tiny smirk on his face.

“Umm, I think your sister and my best friend just became an item?”

Suki laughs. “Well, we’ll have to discuss relationship parameters and stuff, but yeah, pretty much.”

Zuko’s smirk morphs into more of a grin. “I’m sure Jin will be amused. Toph, you and Jin are still a thing, right?”

“Oh please—yeah, it’s pretty casual but that’s a thing, and I told her first that I liked Suki.”

“Oh, but I’m so straight, right?” Suki scoffs. “But not too straight to be worth pursuing, I see!”

“Hey, het,” Mai teases, “I just outright bought you a digital copy, now let’s watch the damn movie.”

But Sokka speaks up even as Mai starts the film. “Just for clarity, is this now a double date, a triple date, or a quadruple date?”

“Yes,” Toph, Mai, Suki, and Ty Lee answer at the same time.

“But wait, you do understand not all of us are with all the rest of us, right? So, not for real only a double date.” Toph pokes Sokka’s shoulder. “Also, when the fuck did this become any sort of date, anyway?”

“Of course I understand that, I—”

“Shh!” Mai presses a finger to her lips, and everyone finally shuts up.

And in roughly an hour and a half, Suki will concede that a piece of her soul was missing before she saw this and she’d had no idea, and that she feels gayer than she ever knew she could—but she was still gay as fuck already and everyone needs to shut the hell up.

***

“Just to double check, are you or Bato allergic to cats? You’re not, right?” Sokka asks Hakoda over Facetime.

Zuko is at work, so it’s safe.

(Granted, if Zuko was around they could simply switch to speaking Yup’ik, and sometimes when it’s just the two of them they do anyway, but if Zuko were present that would almost certainly be cause for suspicion and consequently some major anxiety, so this is for the best regardless.)

“I… No, but…”

“Well, Zuko loves cats, you know? But his place is too small to introduce a cat with his and his sister’s service dog, so like, I haven’t talked to Suki about it yet, but it’s still a few months before our one year anniversary anyway so…”

Hakoda smiles and shakes his head. “I never thought I’d see the day…”

“What the hell, Katara keeps saying shit like that, too! Why is everyone acting like I hate cats and this is, like, a core part of my personality? Sure, I was never much of a cat person, but me liking cats more isn’t the end of the fucking world.”

Hakoda just quietly laughs. “You know even if it’s intended for Zuko, if you make the choice to get a cat for your apartment, you do still have to take care of it, right? If Zuko’s not there but even if he is, it’s only fair, and then if god forbid you and Zuko—”

Sokka can’t bear to let him finish that thought. “No, we are not even considering that.”

“I’m only saying, son, a cat—any animal—is a big commitment. If you’re going to take a step like that, you might as well—”

“Attach a ring to the collar like in the memes? Because yeah, I’m thinking about it.”

Sokka knows his parents dated for a good several years before they got engaged, certainly more than one short year, but it was barely a year of being in a romantic partnership for Hakoda and Bato before they took that leap. Of course it’s still a lot different considering Hakoda and Bato had already known each other for most of their lives, and Sokka and Zuko only knew each other for a matter of weeks before their relationship progressed to what it is now, but after everything they’ve been through together in so little time, Sokka is convinced nothing could possibly tear them apart.

Hell, Zuko and Hakoda have also been through a rather disproportionate amount of shit together for the amount of time they have spent with each other in person.

Zuko is part of this family, and Hakoda doesn’t want him to leave it any more than Sokka does.

(Hakoda recognized from the moment he first met Zuko that he was taking him under his wing all he can, and after he learned all he now knows he determined he would do anything for this kid it took no time at all to see almost as one of his own, but he also recognizes broken and the thought of Sokka having to endure what he had with Yue all over again is a lingering fear, which is Hakoda’s only genuine reservation about Sokka’s enthusiasm, but it is a damn big one.)

Sokka continues, more basically daydreaming out loud, “I also had this idea of coming to visit maybe in March but then before we come back home I surprise him by flying us up to Fairbanks to see the Northern Lights, and… Oh, or remember when we went to Yellowknife and saw them there and how beautiful—wait, I can’t take him to Canada, well…”

“Sokka.” Hakoda’s tone is patient but unmistakably paternal. “Slow down. You’re going a million miles a minute, I can hardly keep up with you.”

“Right. Right, okay. It’s just…it’s nice to think about, you know? I really love him. Seriously, Dad, fuck, I love him so much.”

“I know, and I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see you so happy. To be honest, Sokka, I can’t imagine you have anything to worry about, but don’t rush yourselves. You’re both young yet, there will be time. For now, just be together. Take it one day at a time, okay? You don’t want to miss a moment of the present because your head is stuck in the future.”

“I know,” Sokka sighs but Hakoda is right and Sokka does know that, but it’s not like letting his head run away on him and/or dreaming his whole day away is anything new to him. “Speaking of, I told him I’d pick him up from the tea shop when he gets off and that’s soon, so I should probably get going. Love you.”

“Love you, too, son. Talk to you soon.”

They disconnect and Sokka is about to get up off of his bed to retrieve some pants, but first he has one more task for his phone before he goes.

Which is to text Suki to ask her how she feels about cats.

***

Zuko has no doubt in his mind Sokka is the best baker in the entire world.

The things that man can do with pastries and berries should be prize worthy. He also makes a damn fine German chocolate cake.

Right now they’ve got a mixed berry pie with strawberry ice cream, and Zuko is eating slowly because he doesn’t want to lift his head off Sokka’s shoulder and that substantially complicates the process, but it is damn amazing.

He also made dinner, honey soy glazed salmon and spiced pumpkin soup. It was surprisingly fancy, and impressively delicious. Zuko would also have to admit that it was a nice break since he’s been doing most of the cooking between them and could use a night off, even though Zuko’s role as relationship chef is one hundred percent self-appointed and in fact often insisted upon and has never once been complained about. So that’s on him and he can’t really bitch about it, but he was in enough pain not to argue and insist tonight.

He should let Sokka do this more, not only because it’s fantastic but also because he knows Sokka wants to, but that feeling like he doesn’t pull his weight in this relationship and that Sokka does more for him and he will never be good enough for Sokka is strong, so as far as he’s concerned he’s just doing the least he owes.

Zuko is practically purring curled up against Sokka’s side, watching But I’m a Cheerleader for the fifth time this week to take full advantage of Mai’s homophobic birth father’s “generosity,” so content and comfortable as they are. Sokka sets his clean plate down on the couch beside him and brings himself closer to Zuko, and he starts stroking his hair.

“So I, uh…I heard back from that therapist I called last week.” Sokka’s been trying to get those words out all evening. It’s part of why he all but begged Zuko to stand down on dinner, so he could distract himself and get out of his head about it for a little while, but he knew he needed to tell Zuko and the words have just been hiding in his chest up until now.

“Sokka, that’s great.” Zuko places a soft kiss somewhere around Sokka’s shoulder, barely turning his head to do so. “It is. But it’s okay to be nervous, too. I’m really proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Sokka replies almost inaudibly. “I have an intake appointment with Dr. Guo scheduled now. For Tuesday after next. I’m actually doing this.”

He’s needed it for years, he knows he’s needed it for years, but he is terrified and he truly didn’t believe he’d ever find the will to…

“And thank you for that, too,” Sokka says a little bit louder. “I seriously don’t think I would be able to do this without you.”

“I doubt that, but I’m happy to help however I can,” Zuko says warmly. “Anything for you, love.”

Anything, he says, but Sokka only wishes Zuko could give him the one thing he wants from him most of all: the promise of his safety.

***

Time is moving. Sometimes it feels like it’s just passing them all by, leaving an indistinguishable blur of fuzzy half-formed memories in its wake.

Somehow, Sokka and Zuko have suddenly been together for eight months when they could swear they’d only barely hit six. Somehow, the play is on to dress rehearsals and opening night is only a few days away.

Zuko is not covering his scar. The White Lotus Performing Arts directors are all surprised by his decision, but no one is upset. If anything, they seem like they’re proud of him. Zuko supposes that makes some sense, given not only that these people are all friends with Iroh but also that this is not a formally professional setting and they’ve always known as well as Sokka that Zuko’s stage makeup was never for them.

His face is done up to make it look more gaunt and even more sleep deprived than Zuko genuinely is, though, which is for the character, but it still makes Sokka sad to look at.

Looking the part of his character makes Zuko’s actual, very real pain much more visible.

Sokka has so far enjoyed working on this set and watching Zuko act, but now he’s starting to look forward to all of this coming to an end.

He won’t be out of work, thankfully, since not only is the theatre keeping him on retainer but Ty Lee is still going to need his skills for the Oh Perilous World performance she’s been working on, he has continued drawing and planning out accessibility measures for the shelter with Teo.

He is legitimately almost pleased with what he does for a living here in Ba Sing Se, but he thinks more and more every day about going back to school. He keeps thinking about how his hometown is making waves (pun not intended) in regards to clean tech and hydrokinetic energy, and it makes him wish he could have been a part of that. Giving higher education another try is something he’s wanted this whole time, but he never took the idea too seriously until he started talking to Teo’s dad. He wants to be peers with this man. He wants them to be equals. And the kicker is that the Mechanist himself is so sure they can be, and that for the most part they already are.

He needs to get further along in therapy first, though, which Zuko supports. He’s had a few appointments now with Dr. Guo, and he’s left all of them so far feeling like his whole world is crashing under the weight of all the emotion he hasn’t been dealing with since he was a teenager. He hasn’t even scratched the surface yet, not even fucking close, and he is well aware of this, which makes everything even scarier since it’s becoming so real. But it is now far too clear that he simply cannot put the extra pressure of college on his head until he works through…well, pretty much anything.

Sokka is lost in thought, only vaguely paying attention. At some point Zuko is pulling off a convincing coughing fit, and then he and Sela are arguing in character, and that happens again, Jin came and went at some point, Neitzsche was quoted during a discussion of hope, and now Pakku’s character is obnoxiously complaining about his son’s sickness not being his genetics’ fault as he and Chey move into talking about sending Zuko’s character to a sanitorium.

Sokka wishes Zuko was in this more, but he gets why he chose the role he did. It just makes sense.

And for as much as Sokka loves watching him, this play is depressing and Zuko’s character is depressed and sick, and Zuko is so fucking talented and plays him so well, and all of this together makes Sokka so ridiculously sad. He has been especially fragile since starting therapy, which Zuko assures him is normal, but here he is just blankly staring into the distance instead of paying proper attention, mildly dissociating into a nothingness outside of his body as an alternative to further losing himself inside his head.

Zuko has also reached the point of performing at this stage of preparing—as he had to explain to Sokka the first time he witnessed it—of basically coming down whenever he leaves the theatre. Going through the play in full when they rehearse now, finalizing costumes and makeup, gives Zuko a massive adrenaline rush from which he crashes as soon as it’s over. It’s fairly similar to the breakdown Sokka saw after his audition, but Sokka isn’t any more used to bearing witness to it than Zuko is to having someone stay so close to him as it’s happening. Not that Iroh and Toph have ever allowed him to go through it alone night after night, but it’s not the same and Zuko feels awful no matter how many times Sokka has told him he is never a burden and this is no exception.

And Sokka doesn’t tell him how much it scares him. Sokka doesn’t plead to know what he did wrong or scream about how his heart is shouting at him that he can’t help because he isn’t good enough.

At the same time, however, Zuko obviously understands the words Sokka doesn’t say, offering him a world of reassurances and appreciation when he can get the words out, and with his arms and lips when he can’t. He never wants Sokka to feel like that and despises knowing he makes him feel like that.

Broken pieces. Fit together like a puzzle. Made of glass shards, it can hurt to arrange. But the picture it creates is so beautiful.

Sela as Mary is rambling on and on, Mary in a firm state of not okay. Sokka’s seen the script, this line calls for “detached tenderness,” and Sela hits that delivery with aplomb. “‘It was Edmund who was the crosspatch when he was little, always getting upset and frightened over nothing at all. Everyone used to say, dear, you’d cry at the drop of a hat.’”

Zuko’s microexpressions give away every time that Mary’s words about Edmund strike a little rough for Zuko, but only Sokka would notice.

“‘Maybe I guessed there was a good reason not to laugh,’” Zuko as Edmund retorts bitterly, very bitterly, as the script instructs but also in a way which tells Sokka that was real, too.

It’s going to be bad after the first show, Zuko and Sokka are both internally trying to emotionally ready themselves for that. Performing this and then seeing Noriko again, meeting Ikem and Kiyi for the very first time—Zuko is positive he’s going to be a wreck, but this is something he has to do, and Sokka has his back completely.

They have a few more days, though. It’s not enough, no amount of time will ever be enough, but it will be okay. It genuinely will. Sokka keeps saying this and it helps Zuko that Sokka really believes it.

It will be okay because Sokka knows what Zuko’s been through and that means he knows Zuko can endure this. It will be okay because Zuko has so much love and support. And it will be okay because, dammit, Sokka demands it. It will be okay because he says so.

“Hey. Sokka.” Zuko is standing over him and everyone else looks to be leaving, so Sokka’s mind has been gone a while. “You okay, love?”

“Uh. Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About…everything, I guess.”

He doesn’t need to explain any more than that. Zuko doesn’t need to know exactly what he’s talking about to understand the feeling, and to be there for Sokka through it.

Sokka absolutely does not tell Zuko how unreasonably jealous he is of Zuko’s anxiety over Noriko and her family because of how he would give anything to have Kya walk back into his life. But that’s not possible, and their circumstances are completely incomparable, and it isn’t fair to be upset about Zuko getting the chances he never will and he has no fucking right to judge his difficulty coping with what’s about to happen.

But he can tell his therapist. That’s a good thing. And he knows implicitly that Zuko would feel the same way if the roles were reversed, and that Zuko would never begrudge him for his emotions on this subject. He would listen and try to comfort Sokka, all while suffering himself. So Sokka will save it for therapy.

It’s definitely for the best he finally allowed himself to get into therapy.

Tonight they are both going to dream about all they’ve lost and can never get back, their childhoods cut short, what they do their best to bury during daylight but can’t run far enough away from at night.

Chapter Text

Zuko is pacing and silently mouthing his lines to himself, breathing a bit too heavily backstage. He has his lucky Nine Inch Nails shirt on under the thick white button down of his costume. He still has his bag over his shoulder and one of his hands is in his bag so he can stim on his turtleduck, while the other hand is at his side and stimming by making a snapping motion without actually snapping.

He’s not just preparing for the show to start but also hiding, there is no way around that. He isn’t going to deal with Noriko’s presence until curtain. He can’t. The stage lights are typically a pain for him (literally), but tonight he is grateful for them, knowing he won’t be able to see the audience well enough to spot her while he’s acting.

He smoked an entire pack of cigarettes this afternoon. He wasn’t paying attention, just went outside for some air with an unopened pack and then the next thing he knew a couple whole hours of his life and all of his cigarettes were gone. He’s now made it through almost two packs throughout the course of the day and it isn’t even 6:00pm. And he hasn’t eaten anything all day and there was nothing Sokka could do to change that (believe him, he tried). Sokka hopes Zuko’s pre-show nerves don’t always look like this, that they aren’t always this bad. He imagines they don’t, but knowing Zuko he guesses that they’re still close enough under ordinary circumstances.

Everyone is supposed to be here for this show. All of Zuko’s friends and family. Sokka even got permission from Piandao to Facetime in Hakoda and Bato, because—much to Zuko’s surprise (although one day he will figure out this was never surprising because they so clearly love him, he has to)—they didn’t want to miss it, either.

But Zuko hasn’t spoken to anyone outside of the theatre but Sokka at all today, and he hasn’t even said much to him besides bouncing lines off of him.

“Five minutes,” Bumi warns everyone, and that prompts Zuko to unceremoniously crash himself down onto the floor where he stood. Sokka moves to sit next to him.

Sokka pulls down on the sleeves of his thin sweater and extends his arms towards Zuko, who then starts petting his arms. Sokka wore this top specifically for this reason, because Zuko loves the texture of it and it’s nice the simple act of choosing a shirt could help calm him, which made it a very easy choice.

Sokka is grateful for the knowledge that in five minutes’ time Zuko is about to become a completely different person and even though it won’t last, the anxious mess in front of him who looks he’s about to have a total, hospital worthy nervous breakdown is going to stop shaking so hard and walk out calm and confident.

Sokka assumes that will give his poor, trembling muscles and joints a break if nothing else.

Zuko pulls away from Sokka only to set down his bag, and then he resumes losing himself in Sokka’s soft arms.

Pakku and Sela shuffle out to the stage to get in position, neither of them paying Sokka and Zuko any mind. It’s a good thing that Sela is already used to this, too, Sokka thinks. This appears to be an entirely judgment free zone, as it damn well should.

But their departure also means it’s about time for Sokka to head out, too. His dads should be calling any second.

“It’s almost time, babe,” Sokka says. He doesn’t want to leave him, but it helps to remember Zuko’s stage transformation, to know he’ll be safe without Sokka there to hold his hands. “I’m gonna head down to the auditorium, but I am going to be right in the front row to watch you, okay? I will be right there. And you’re gonna be great, I know you are.”

Zuko takes a deep breath and nods, quickly gripping the fabric of Sokka’s sleeves with both hands and rubbing them between his fingers for good measure.

“Break exactly zero limbs. Do not break any bones at all.” Sokka smirks, and Zuko gets a laugh out. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Zuko whispers, speaking in only air with no audible use of his vocal cords.

Zuko can hear how fast Sokka runs through the door and down the stairs, and he can hear him say hello to Hakoda and Bato on his way.

And then Zuko hears Pakku. “‘You’re a fine armful now, Mary, with those twenty pounds you’ve gained.’”

And then Sela. “‘I’ve gotten too fat, you mean, dear. I really ought to reduce.’”

Zuko and Chey both get up and get ready to move. They’ve a few more lines before their entrance, but Zuko desperately needed to pick himself up now.

“‘None of that, my lady! You’re just right. We’ll have no talk of reducing. Is that why you ate so little breakfast?’”

Breathe in. Breathe out. Zuko hears that in his head in Sokka’s voice.

The lights will be too bright to see him from the stage. But he reminds himself again that at least they will also be too bright to see her and them.

(He also reminds himself that he agreed to this. That he fucking wanted this, he really did. Does. It’s just…it’s complicated.)

Breathe in. Breathe out. And then—

Zuko is paying close attention to the other side of the curtain, and he realizes where Sela is in the script as she speaks, what she’s about to say, and what that means for him. He’s up. “‘We’re coming, Mama.’”

What a fitting first line for him tonight.

Fuck.

Here goes.

***

“‘After I left her, I felt all mixed up, so I went to the shrine and prayed to the Blessed Virgin and found peace again because I knew she heard my prayer and would always love me and see no harm ever came to me as long as I never lost my faith in her.’”

It’s like Zuko steps on stage and blinks, and the very next second he is sitting as still as he possibly can while Sela finishes destroying the audience with her heart wrenching, chilling, complex rendition of Mary’s emotionally wrought, layered, fourth wall breaking closing monologue.

“‘That was in the winter of senior year. Then in the spring something happened to me. Yes, I remember. I fell in love with James Tyrone and was so happy for a time.’”

There is another moment of tense silence and Sela staring dreamily into the crowd, and then the lights go out and the audience erupts into cheering and applause.

Sokka is only seconds behind meeting Zuko again on the other side of the stage, and Zuko is ready to literally physically collapse but Sokka has his arms wrapped around him before he has a chance.

“That was amazing, you were amazing!” Sokka is so excited, it’s so genuine, and Zuko’s spinning head almost entertains the concept of relief hearing that, considering he dissociated his way through nearly the entire show and has virtually no memory of any aspect of his part in it. Granted, he knows Sokka’s opinion is going to be more than a little bit biased, but if it were to have shown that Zuko did not consciously participate in his role, he knows Sokka would have approached him much differently. So this still bodes well, and he allows himself to feel a fraction of that relief.

Sokka grabs Zuko’s hands and sets them at Sokka’s sides, and Zuko instantly starts moving his palms up and down that wonderful soft material (Sokka knows, Sokka is perfect, goddamn, how is he so fucking perfect).

And it’s just Sokka here right now. Not even Iroh and Toph followed him. Iroh is, of course, the one who is currently keeping company with Noriko, but Zuko doesn’t need to think about that part. Sokka wanted a moment alone with Zuko before the rest of the evening happens, and no one tried to argue, and Zuko is grateful to not be as overwhelmed as he could be for the time being.

The plan for after they leave the theatre is a group dinner, as is tradition for their extended family after any of them have a performance. This time there’s the added perk of including Noriko and her family while letting Zuko keep his entire support system with him for it.

Everything happens for a reason, Iroh says. Nothing ever occurs by accident, Iroh says.

Zuko wonders why the hell his entire life feels like an accident, then. A lengthy tragedy with an unsympathetic lead character no one should ever be rooting for, and a love interest who is far too good for him and anyone watching or reading or whatever would never buy them as a couple.

Ozai always told him that Azula was born lucky and he was lucky to be born. Once he muttered under his breath about how he would have been luckier if he hadn’t been born, not thinking before he spoke and not quite quiet enough. That earned him a black eye and a split lip, and just further confirmation he was right.

He is lucky, though, to have found Sokka, to be here in his arms with him now.

And for as hard of a time as he’s having with it, he is lucky to have his mother back in his life. He’s repeatedly had the thought of “be careful what you wish for” but he did wish for it and he knows he truly is so lucky for this to have worked out the way it did.

Iroh says there’s no such thing as luck. There is destiny, there is fate, there is a return of one’s intentions and what they deserve.

Zuko tries not to think about what he did to deserve much of the life he’s had. Iroh tells him it doesn’t work like that but no one has ever been able to explain why not to him in a way he understands.

It’s a few minutes before Zuko finds a voice, and he doesn’t let go of Sokka despite his request. “Outside. Air. Cigarette. Now.”

“Okay, babe, we can do that,” Sokka nods along Zuko’s neck. “How about this, too: I text our friends to let them know we’ll meet them at the restaurant. You don’t have to see anyone until we get there if you don’t want to.”

Sokka is perfect.

He sends a message to Suki, Katara, Toph, and Aang—pretty much just going through all of his most recent texts—to make sure as many bases are covered as possible and the news will get around to everyone.

He is met with replies of thumbs up emojis and “see you soon,” and once he receives confirmation everyone relevant has left the building, he and Zuko head outside themselves.

Sokka doesn’t expect Zuko to talk to him. He doesn’t expect him to be able to speak just yet. He simply holds Zuko from behind while he lights up and keeps on holding him while he smokes, silently encouraging Zuko to pet his sweater some more with his left hand.

In this, yes, Zuko is the luckiest.

Sokka holds Zuko’s hand the whole drive to Four Elements Fusion, the restaurant they always use for these large gatherings because they know Iroh and have business dealings with the Jasmine Dragon and are therefore always especially accommodating, and as long as they call ahead by at least a week they’ll get the dining area all the way in the back all to themselves. Which also means less sensory input on Zuko, so that’s one less thing to worry about. And if for any reason he does melt down, almost no strangers will witness, which doesn’t make Zuko feel a lot better but it does help.

Zuko’s eyes are closed the whole drive, too, up until Sokka squeezes his hand to let him know he now needs both of his own for the steering wheel, and he parks the car.

“We’re here, babe,” Sokka tells him softly, quietly. “I need you to look at me, okay?”

Zuko nods and gazes up at Sokka’s face, the way Sokka is smiling at him. His eyes are so bright and beautiful, there is so much love in them. Zuko’s are so sad and tired, but that doesn’t negate the equal amount of love pouring out of his.

Zuko leans in and kisses Sokka roughly and passionately, putting all of his fear and anxiety overflow into moving like this, grasping at the comforting scratch of the back of Sokka’s head beneath the almost shoulder length hair he’s wearing down. Zuko claims his mouth completely, not even wanting to come up for air. He wishes they could stay like this forever and he knows they can’t, but it’s grounding and it’s safe and it’s what he needs and Sokka is sure as hell never going to say no to a messy makeout session with his boyfriend.

It’s not until they are both literally gasping for breath that Zuko finally pulls back, and Sokka takes Zuko’s hands and grips them tight, and Zuko hears what Sokka wants to say throughout the silence and he nods.

“It’s time, love,” Sokka says out loud, and it’s exactly what Zuko had already replied to.

“I know.” Zuko’s voice is harsh and forced but he needs to be able to use it when they get inside and he knows Sokka will be patient with him if it takes him a minute to get it out, so it’s good to practice before leaving the car.

“I know,” he repeats, and it sounds a little more natural this time. And then, what has become the easiest thing in the world for Zuko to say, “I love you, Sokka.”

“I love you, too. I’ve got you. Let’s do this.”

***

Even in a room filled one hundred percent with people they know (or, well, more like over ninety-nine percent in this case, but still), Zuko feels pretty crowded. It’s definitely a good thing they are where they are, that they’re closed off from all the noise of too many people talking at once, that they are spared unnecessary disturbances.

It’s a little harder when Zuko is the star of the evening, though. He much prefers these outings when it’s after a dance or something, when it’s someone else being celebrated.

He and Sokka walk in hand in hand to join Iroh, Toph, Katara, Aang, Suki, Ty Lee, Mai, Teo, Haru, Jin, and…their other guests of honor.

(The Jasmine Dragon closed early today. It’s a family business and well loved locally, the customers understand. Hell, half of them were probably at the show, Iroh’s been boasting about it so much. Plus, Iroh’s had a sign on the door about it for two weeks so the regulars have been sufficiently warned.)

Noriko claps at Zuko when they see him, and it is earnest and sweet and should be endearing, however Zuko doesn’t even see her but the way he flinches at the sound and the involuntary glare from Sokka leading to her quick realization no one else is applauding cuts that off instantly.

Sokka and Zuko sit together at the head of the long table, positioned so that Zuko can easily turn to see and hear absolutely everyone. He isn’t looking at anybody as of yet, needing another moment to adjust to the sensations of his surroundings. But then he takes off the worn out black hoodie he’d switched out with Edmund’s shirt. And then he can figure out how close Noriko is to him while still not looking, by the sound she makes once his arms come out.

He quickly shirks it back on and balls his hands into the ends of the sleeves. He didn’t even think about it. No one else here likes to see them but they all know so there’s no point hiding.

He’s pretty sure nothing between them can be any more painful and awkward as the last time he saw her and literally all that needs to happen for this turn to be a radically drastic improvement upon the last is for him to not pass out this time, but this is so very much not the way he would have wanted this meeting to start.

Sokka’s hand is on his thigh, applying light pressure, a reminder.

You’re okay, he says without saying. I’ve got you.

Zuko knows. He does. He can’t possibly deserve it, but he knows.

Zuko just kind of waves awkwardly at everyone, trying his best to bring his voice back to the surface.

Of course it would have been too much to ask for introductions to be needed and not already taken care of by now, that they didn’t happen while they were waiting on Sokka and Zuko to arrive.

On the other hand, there are yet a few very important introductions to be made.

“Hi! You’re my brother!” the five year old sitting beside Noriko shouts to Zuko.

Am I? I guess we’ll know soon.

He clears his throat, and prepares to put on another show. “Uh, yeah, that’s…yeah, your mom is my mom, too.”

He smiles, not overcomplicating things for a kid so young. Whether they are truly siblings or only blood by the end of the night is irrelevant at the moment, and good for her if she never needs explained to her the difference between genuine family and people someone is raised and/or shares DNA with.

Just please don’t think anything of the scar, don’t ask about the scar, don’t judge Mom for the scar…

From everything Noriko has told him since they reconnected, Kiyi is the happy, innocent child he never got to be, and he would hate to have any part in cutting that short.

What a fucking shame acting is so much harder when he doesn’t have someone else’s lines to go off of.

“Yes, Kiyi, sweetie,” Noriko smiles and she is not acting. “Zuko is your big brother.”

So that is what Noriko wants. Zuko’s heartbeat steadies a little upon that confirmation.

“And Zuko, this is Ikem,” she adds, gesturing to her husband on Kiyi’s other side. Ikem, unlike Kiyi (and thank god she isn’t looking), is not at all subtle in that he unquestionably is staring at the scar, with that all too familiar mix of pity and horror on his face. It’s a lot like how Noriko herself looked when she saw it.

Zuko wonders how much Ikem knows. If she’d warned him about it, and if she would have provided him with any details or chosen to leave that kind of confidentiality to Zuko’s discretion. He wonders, too, if Ikem knew about him before she had to tell him. If he knows about Azula even though in that case he doesn’t need to. Zuko hasn’t asked because he isn’t sure he wants to know. He knows which answer he’d prefer, but it feels selfish, wanting her to have missed them enough this whole time to tell her husband about it. It would make sense if Zuko’s existence had been news to Kiyi, but it doesn’t seem fair for Ikem not to have known all along. If Zuko had to suffer without her as much as he did, then…

Selfish, selfish, selfish, selfish.

(Sokka would tell him it isn’t selfish, that it’s perfectly understandable. Iroh would say the same. Toph would say the same. Anyone and everyone else here with him right now would wholeheartedly agree with them, not him. But it feels so wrong. Just because he’s had to hurt doesn’t mean she should have.)

(She did, though. She hurt so much, and Ikem has heard all about it, has held her so many times as she cried about the children she left behind. The mental health spiral she went through when she was pregnant with Kiyi had scared the hell out of him. The postpartum depression—which she had not experienced with either Zuko or Azula—nearly killed her. But she doesn’t need to tell Zuko about any of that. She doesn’t want to burden him with how hard these years have been on her after learning how much worse he had it.)

(They always were so alike.)

“Nice to meet you, Mister—” Zuko’s we are not equals and never will be equals and you must be addressed formally and with all expected respect from a lesser like me early upbringing comes up the same as it did with Hakoda, and it’s so instinctive he doesn’t even notice until Ikem interrupts him.

“Please, Zuko, my name is Ikem.” He smiles warmly, his eyes lingering on the scar yet but he responds to Zuko’s assumption kindly and easily. “No need for such formality, we’re family.”

Family?

They aren’t even legally family, Zuko doesn’t think, given that Iroh is his only parent on paper. He never really stopped thinking of Noriko as his proper family, even after he started learning to stop thinking of her as Ursa and was no longer at all sure who they were supposed to be to each other anymore, but this? This is…

He doesn’t know what this is. Or what he expected it would be.

What the hell is happening?

It’s complicated.

“Yes. Of course. Ikem. Sir.” Zuko is not at all comfortable, and the pressure of Sokka’s hand transforms itself into more of a grip.

“Just Ikem,” Ikem stresses with a patient smile, and then, to Zuko’s relief, he looks to Sokka. “And I understand this young man is your boyfriend?”

Ikem appears to be unfazed entirely by Zuko’s significant other being a man. Which is hopeful, given that he remembers how Ozai spoke of “that lifestyle” and for as intimidating as Ikem is on the principle alone of his not only being a father but his being Zuko’s mother’s husband and that position historically being filled by an irredeemable abusive asshole, even Zuko can acknowledge this is hopeful.

“Yep, that’s me!” Sokka waves his free hand with a wide grin on his face, radiating natural charm, balancing the sadness and fear dripping from Zuko. “Name’s Sokka, it’s pronounced with an -okka, and it is a pleasure to meet you, Ikem.”

“Hey!” Kiyi shouts as though offended. “What about me?”

And that makes Zuko smile, because Ikem just chuckles at her and that is so good to see because even at that age Zuko would have been met with a death glare carrying an obvious sinister promise, and not only would Ozai never have been so casual but Zuko would already be cowering knowing what was to come, and Kiyi’s demeanor is certainly not one of a child who knows they are going to be beaten past bruises the moment they’re alone, if their threatening father can stand to wait that long.

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry for my mistake,” Sokka follows, and it comes across as so authentic and adorable. “It is my great honor to meet you, too, my lady! Please, I beg you, forgive me.”

Sokka’s good with kids, too?

No shit, he’s good with kids, Zuko doesn’t know why this should surprise him. Sokka is good at everything, Zuko’s sure. Sokka is perfect.

“Okay!” Kiyi replies, and then that’s the end of that, and Noriko looks at Zuko like she knows exactly what he’s thinking (she does) and is hoping to reassure him (she is) that Ikem will not lay a hand on Kiyi simply for behaving like a kid (he won’t, and he would never).

Thankfully, as well, Zuko’s arms are not once mentioned. He wishes they hadn’t been seen, but they are not spoken of and that is now the best he can ask for and he’s grateful to get that.

Eventually people start talking about what they do, and well beyond their day jobs. Noriko and Ikem both talk about their acting careers, the shows they’ve done. Many of his friends point out and occasionally make fun of Zuko being so similar to them in regards to being theatre nerds.

Jin expresses a desire to learn how to juggle, and Ikem picks up a few empty glasses around the table and jokingly offers to show her. Noriko then lightly slaps his arm and playfully informs him she doesn’t think that’s such a good idea, and he sets down the glasses without argument or even complaint, and they’re both laughing like this is normal friendly banter and it’s funny to them both, and she is safe.

She not only contradicted her husband but she did it in public and she put a hand on him in doing so, yet it looks like she isn’t going to be punished for it.

Ursa would never dare to behave so freely because she knew Ozai would harm her for it, but Noriko can and Ikem likes it.

He truly loves her. Zuko sees it in his eyes. Because how love lights up a person’s eyes is a concept Zuko understands now, and one he has come to recognize from personal experience.

She wasn’t lying about her husband. She actually is in a healthy, loving relationship.

Zuko, in reality, may never believe this fully with utmost confidence and without reservation, but in front of his eyes it looks real, it feels real, and so right now he believes it just enough to be thrilled she has what she deserves.

This is…alright. This might really be alright.

And Noriko doesn’t miss the way Sokka interacts with Zuko, which she didn’t get a chance to see before. She watches how close Sokka stays to Zuko, where his hands go whenever Zuko gets shakier or has extra trouble getting words out. She sees how loved he is, and Sokka just keeps flashing little knowing smirks at her, as if trying to speak volumes about his feelings for her son with those slightest curls of his lips.

Sokka could write epics. He hopes Noriko is reading them in his actions and expressions.

Sokka doesn’t miss the way she watches them. The way she smiles, too. She appears content.

Everything is beginning to feel…calmer.

It does have to be explained to Noriko and Ikem that Zuko’s difficulties using his voice and keeping his body steady are normal for his recovering from a performance, that the rest of the week will look the same. This is explained quietly and to each party individually by Iroh, careful to keep this information from Kiyi. She doesn’t need to know, and that means Zuko doesn’t want her to.

A few glasses of wine eases the awkwardness, as well, although it also serves to make Zuko even more tired and he doesn’t want to say goodbye. He’s not ready to say goodbye, not knowing when he’ll see them again. Fuck, he does want to be their family. He shouldn’t be surprised but at the same time he is. He has a perfect family here in Ba Sing Se and he loves them and he’s so lucky to have them, and now he has family in Alaska he’s still slightly afraid of but they’re there for him, and he doesn’t understand how that happened either but…

Zuko’s terrified of when the other shoe drops, what will happen and how much it will hurt him. He’s trying to figure out how the fuck this is his life, how he is so surrounded by love he rationalizes he should have learned to accept well over ten years ago, and yet.

He almost feels okay and that scares the shit out of him. A part of him wants to push Sokka away and wants to do it now, but Sokka’s hands are warm and feel like home and Zuko can’t let that go, and he wants to just let himself enjoy this and all that’s coming with it and—

And Sokka’s now rubbing small circles above Zuko’s knee, soothing motions. He is so good to Zuko. He is too good for Zuko.

Sokka lightly kisses Zuko between his scarred eye and ear, and he knows Zuko can’t really physically feel Sokka’s lips there but it’s the gesture, the extra pressure Sokka laid down on his leg before moving on his blind side, the careful consideration he took to comfort him without startling him. It’s often much harder not to scare Zuko, and it hasn’t always been easy learning how to navigate around that. It isn’t always easy now, either, but Sokka is grateful for Zuko’s patience and understanding with him, and is always surprised by it and how forgiving he can be of being accidentally sent into panic.

But Sokka would never do anything to hurt Zuko on purpose. He would never do anything to Zuko with malicious intent. And Zuko knows. And Noriko clearly trusts it, too.

They haven’t solidified any plans yet, but they are going to Alaska as soon as they can swing it. Everything else about it is up in the air, but Zuko has taken Sokka up on the offer and he did so easily, which Sokka did not expect.

So next will be talking Noriko and Ikem up on their offer to visit them where they live, too. Sokka wonders if that will be easier or harder for Zuko to agree to than it was for him to accept Hakoda and Bato’s invitation, but he sees now this is something which will need to occur. He knew before, but seeing this has made it impossible to second guess.

At some point, Zuko picks up his bag and hands Noriko his turtleduck. He doesn’t have to explain himself as she takes it. She already knew he still has it, yes, but he wants her to touch it, to see without any room for doubt how much it’s meant to him all this time.

“She always comes with me to my shows,” Zuko tells her with only a hint of a waver in his voice.

“Grown ups can have stuffies?” Kiyi gasps and shouts in bewilderment, and when Noriko nods and tells her yes, her eyes light up and it looks like this is the best day of her whole young life.

She looks like a happy child.

Good.

She deserves it. Children deserve to be children.

Zuko looks to Kiyi, accepting he’s allowed to reassure her in this. “She’s not as soft as she used to be, but you can hold her if you want.”

Sokka realizes Turtleduck had always been an it before Zuko’s mother came back into his life, and only since has the plush become a she. Sokka wonders if Zuko’s aware of that.

Kiyi does take Turtleduck into her arms and squeezes her, and she is obviously ecstatic to have learned she doesn’t have to give up her own toys when she’s Zuko’s age.

“She’s scruffy,” Kiyi says. “I like her!”

“Our mom gave that to me when I was only a year older than you are now.”

Our mom. Yeah, that’s weird to say.

“How long ago was that?”

Zuko snickers shortly to cover for how much he does not want to think about that answer.

Too long.

“Many, many years,” Noriko says, and she sounds as sad about that as Zuko looks.

Kiyi doesn’t ask the hard questions, though, not like Zuko was concerned about. She doesn’t ask about the scar, and she doesn’t ask where Zuko’s been all her life or why this is their first time meeting. She passes Turtleduck back to him and thanks him for sharing with her, and she continues to remain blissfully ignorant of how awful all that’s kept them apart truly was.

At some point she asks if she’s going to have to become an actor, too, like it must be genetic or something, and Ikem gently informs her she is under no obligation if that isn’t what she wants, and that her parents will support whatever she wants to do when she grows up.

Zuko doesn’t cry, his eye doesn’t even water, but…fuck, what he would give to have gotten that kind of encouragement at Kiyi’s age.

And to be a five year old who is allowed to be a five year old. Fancy that.

She seems like a good kid.

Zuko swallows and tells himself that a heart twisting in jealousy at a kindergartener isn’t exactly a good look, and he moves on.

When all is said and done, dinner went well. Actually, genuinely well.

Zuko and Sokka also decide they’re going to get lunch with Noriko, Ikem, and Kiyi before they leave to return to Arizona.

Sokka is so proud of Zuko. He is, as ever, so fucking proud of the bravery and strength and all those beautiful parts of Zuko he doesn’t believe he has that form the incredible mosaic of the person beside him, this absolute work of art in progress who still makes Sokka starry eyed and still gives him butterflies.

It’s so fucking sappy but Sokka has yet to stop feeling overwhelmed by how much he loves him. And god knows how all consumingly mutual those feelings are.

But Zuko is so tired by the end of the night, after spending hours fighting with himself over leaving his heart open and unprotected in the center of the table.

Crashing in Sokka’s bed, he almost can’t believe he ever doubted the reality of what it is between them, that he ever thought it could be anything less than love.

Almost.

He makes sure to text Toph just to tell her goodnight and that he loves her, and that no matter what she was his sister first and nothing is changing in that regard. Because he knows this has been hard on her. He doesn’t need her to say it. He just needs to remind her that he’s her brother and he’s always here for her.

He feels guilty not going home with her, leaving her alone after that, but he couldn’t deal either and he figured he’d be less likely to think about family shit at Sokka’s. He was wrong, of course, but there was only one way to find out.

And in bed, Zuko holds onto Sokka like he’s drowning and clinging to a raft. Sokka responds with delicate touches of his hands and mouth, breathing Zuko in like he’s dependent upon him for oxygen.

“I couldn’t do this without you,” Zuko says yet again, and once more he feels so fucking selfish, that he’s being unfairly codependent and Sokka does not deserve to constantly be holding onto all of his baggage like this, carrying all the weight Zuko brings with him on his back.

Sokka deserves so much better.

“Happy to help,” Sokka laughs tenderly. He’s exhausted, too, albeit differently.

Sokka is rubbing his leg around Zuko’s and his knee is clicking, and he kisses the back of Zuko’s neck when Zuko rests his hand over it, holding it still and easing the ache.

Sokka sighs and Zuko hears the frustration in it, the ongoing lack of acceptance it will take far more time for his therapist to properly assist with. But Sokka does relax into Zuko’s touch, does allow himself to take the warmth and support Zuko’s fingers provide him.

In the dark, in the quiet, just the two of them after the evening they had, nothing seems entirely real for either of them. Both their brains and bodies are so loud, echoing in the silence of the night, and the affection Zuko shows Sokka and his leg snaps the tension Sokka has done so well to hide, and he starts to cry with words Zuko is all too familiar with having spoken himself.

“I miss my mom.”

He instantly follows with a long string of apologies, so embarrassed at letting himself break when Zuko needs him but no, no, Zuko is here and he holds him and he listens, and he fucking thanks him for being honest about how the Noriko situation is affecting him, and no matter how much he worries their relationship is entirely one sided he is here and he is helping and they are both so fucked up but by god, they are in it together.

Chapter Text

Kiyi wants Toph to join them for lunch, because she makes the automatic assumption that sharing Zuko as a brother also makes them siblings. Zuko and Sokka have promised to keep it a secret that she cried. She also accepts the invitation without question.

During their final farewells (for now, only for now, not forever, it’s alright) at the Jasmine Dragon afterwards, Noriko encourages Kiyi to refer to Iroh as “uncle.” Zuko laughs, having not heard him called Uncle Iroh in over half his life.

Kiyi doesn’t at all understand how her older brother’s dad would be her uncle, but Noriko just explains to her that sometimes other adults close to one’s parents can hold that kind of place of honor because family is about love above all else, and Zuko actually tears up a little when she says that and he does his best to hide it from Kiyi but this is…this is nice.

Toph shows Kiyi a little braille when she asks about what the “bumps” on all the drink menus are, and then Zuko teaches her the alphabet in ASL. She is almost definitely not going to fully retain any of this, but she’s so excited to learn it.

“What’ve you got to share, Boomerang?” Toph teases, and Kiyi giggles.

“Umm, yeah, I haven’t learned those yet, that’s true, but I do speak six languages, so…”

“I’m sorry, what,” Toph deadpans, and Zuko laughs again.

“I told you he’s a fu—uh, that he’s a genius,” Zuko says to Noriko, and Sokka just shrugs.

Toph snorts at Zuko’s last second censorship for Kiyi’s sake, and Kiyi herself remains none the wiser.

“It’s not like I’m fluent in all of them!” Sokka adds as though this somehow makes what he just said any less impressive.

“But not many people are so skilled with words, Sokka,” Noriko smiles at him. Even Zuko’s formerly estranged mother he’s met all of twice before is now on the list of people who will try to convince Sokka to give himself more credit.

Well, then.

“What languages?” Ikem asks, genuinely engaging in curiosity.

“Well, they say it’s a lot easier to learn other languages later if you know more than one from a young age,” Sokka again downplays himself. “In my village back home we learn Yup’ik when we’re growing up right along with English, if not first. I know a decent amount of Iñupiaq because that’s my Gran Gran’s native tongue—she’s from Utqiaġvik, way far north from where I’m from—”

Kanna had actually found herself in Igiugig in a manner rather similar to how Yue did. Those two had gotten along very well, and it was never any wonder.

“And she taught me and Katara some but I only know so much. And her mom was from Nunavut so she learned Inuktitut, too, so we also learned some of that and that’s why she and Katara do the hair loopies the way they do. Then, uh, I taught myself Spanish when I was a kid because I already knew I wasn’t staying in Alaska forever and it’s so commonly spoken I thought I should know it, but I haven’t kept up with it in the last few years so I’ve probably lost a lot. And a lot of stuff in Alaska also has Russian names and I thought that was interesting because I’ve always been this much of a nerd, so I learned some Russian on my own when I was younger, too, because why not, but I was never much more than conversational in it with, like, just a bunch of random words and phrases thrown in.”

He was also sure to make a point to pick up on the differences between Alaskan Yup’ik and Siberian Yupik for Yue, but that hasn’t been something he’s needed to know in a long time, and is in fact something he has actively avoided trying to think about.

And by now he’s sure he’s rambled more than enough and wasted too much of their precious remaining time, despite the fact everyone is highly intrigued.

“You never cease to amaze me,” Zuko says in genuine awe, and that perks Sokka up a bit.

“Kenkamken,” Sokka tells Zuko in Yup’ik (he can’t resist) and then quickly translates, “I love you. Kenkamken caknek, I love you very much.”

“I love you, too,” Zuko replies. “Very much. Sorry, that’s all I’ve got for that.”

Because Zuko was deemed unworthy of learning anything more as a child. Ozai determined without even trying that he wouldn’t be smart enough to not butcher the language as Azula was taught Japanese from an early age—and of course, she took to it annoyingly easily.

And it’s not like his mother was going to teach him, as the two of them had much bigger things to worry about.

Zuko was hated from birth and his mother was blamed for all of his supposed shortcomings. That was enough to deal with.

(Zuko has never understood what it was about him that led Ozai to believe he was so hopeless since before he was even sentient, and now that he could he’s too afraid to ask.)

(Noriko could answer him easily. She has obviously never agreed with Ozai’s early and immovable assessment, but Ozai never held that back from her, so she could tell Zuko its origins without hesitation.)

“Direct translation is aishiteru, but it’s more meant to be expressed in actions than words,” Noriko tries to help, but Zuko just looks more frustrated by what he doesn’t know.

“Or you could say daisuki,” she continues, but as far as Zuko is concerned that doesn’t really help and he doesn’t want to fuck it up and disrespect the language and he tries not to take it as Ozai was right when in reality it’s I can’t know what I never learned, but.

Sokka smiles. “Nakuaġigikpiñ,” he says in Iñupiaq. “Nagligivagit,” in Inuktitut. “Ya tebya lyublyu,” in Russian. “Te amo,” in Spanish.

“Show off,” Zuko rolls his eyes and tries to hide how inferior to Sokka he’s feeling right now. He is always aware of Sokka’s incredible intellect being extraordinary and something most people can’t understand or relate to, not just Zuko, and he should be happy about watching Sokka have enough of an idea about how good he is to show off for once, even if only just barely, but…

Emotions are weird. And often terrible.

“But you would know how to say that in every language you speak,” Zuko does note with nothing but affection in his tone. And then he looks back to Noriko, shaking his head. “Can you believe he can do math, too? I thought that was impressive enough, and now I find out he’s a whole polyglot. That’s just not fair.”

“But you can talk with your hands!” Kiyi reminds him. “That’s cool!”

“Hey, don’t forget the ‘bumps,’” Toph says. “Zuko knows those, too.”

“Why?” Kiyi asks, like a five year old would.

“Umm, Toph and a bunch of our friends and I like to learn things that will help people,” Zuko explains, trying to figure out as he goes how to best talk to a child about this. “Toph knows the bumps because she can’t see and it helps her, but it could help a lot of other people, too, so we try to teach as many people as we can. A lot of people talk with their hands because they can’t hear, and we do it so we can talk to them, too. We also try to work on putting ramps next to stairs and fixing entrances originally built with, like, steps and small doors easier for people who use wheelchairs to get around.”

“So you’re good people?” Kiyi’s eyes are wide and Zuko fails at not making a face. “You help others, so you’re good people! Like Mr. Rogers!”

“Yes, Kiyi,” Noriko says firmly. “Zuko and his friends are very good people.”

“Thank you,” Zuko forces himself to reply.

“You’re welcome. And I am so, so proud of you and the person you’ve become.”

She is so sorry she wasn’t there to watch him grow up, to do her best to help him become who he is now, but at least he had Iroh so he was more okay than he could have been, and at least they’ve found each other again and it’s impossible not to wish everything else could have happened completely differently but this is what they have and she is so thankful for it.

Sokka takes Zuko’s hand and squeezes it when she tells him that. Zuko has always wanted his mother to be proud of him, and not only did he miraculously get that chance but she is.

Zuko really doesn’t want to say goodbye.

Hugging Noriko still feels so natural it’s almost unnatural. It’s hard to explain but it’s emotionally charged in so many different ways and it kind of hurts but at its heart it’s good, it is so good.

Zuko initially goes completely stiff when Ikem hugs him, and Sokka is taken aback by how rigid he appears even in contrast to the first time Hakoda hugged him, but a loving grin from Noriko helps Zuko ease into it.

Kiyi is clearly upset about having to leave, making Zuko and her parents promise that they’ll see each other again, whining about how now that she has a big brother she should get to “keep him.” She makes a similar comment about Toph and again no one corrects her.

It’s still painfully confusing but Zuko has another family now and it’s really nice however much it fucks with his head, and he’s honestly a little glad they don’t live locally or it might be far too overwhelming and Zuko might shut down on everything about it, but it gives Sokka so much additional ammunition for trying to convince Zuko of how loved he is and he is grateful for that.

Zuko deserves the best, and Sokka tells him as often as he can even knowing he’ll never listen or believe him.

But then Noriko hugs Sokka goodbye, too, and…oh.

Oh.

If Zuko were ever to tell Katara or Hakoda or, well, just about anyone close to Sokka how many times he’s seen him cry, they’d never believe him. Crying in private is no big deal, Sokka does that all the time. But to let anyone else in on that secret? Unheard of. Yet Zuko sees Sokka as a ridiculously easy crier (which is true, but this was always supposed to stay between Sokka and Sokka) because that’s what Sokka has presented to him, although no one else would ever think as such. They are much better acquainted with a Sokka who can’t let himself cry or show any strong emotion, who isn’t allowed to break down or give in to weakness, and who holds himself to impossible standards of strength and weakness he would never be cruel enough to extend to anyone else but does not see as cruel to impose upon himself. Zuko has no idea how far Sokka let his guard down with him or how soon, and how much that means. So he also doesn’t think anything of it when Sokka starts dripping tears onto Noriko’s shoulder, all the while Sokka is mortified and internally mentally beating the shit out of himself for letting that slip out.

Kiyi tugs on Zuko’s shirt. “Why is Sokka sad?”

Zuko panics for a second, having no fucking clue what it’s like to be a normal five year old and how sheltered from the worst aspects of life she may or may not be. He has no idea if she has any concept of death or loss or grief, and he is not going to risk being the one to break that seal.

“He’s not sad,” Zuko attempts awkwardly. “Sokka is… Sometimes you just really need a good hug from your mom, you know?”

Kiyi nods, so Zuko keeps going.

“And sometimes people cry when they’re happy or excited or…crying can mean a lot of different things, not just sad. Sometimes it just means your feelings are too much to put into words. And Sokka, well…Sokka needed a good hug from a mom, and he just has really big feelings about it.”

That seems to satisfy Kiyi, and Zuko is glad because if she’d asked why Sokka needed a mom hug or where his mom is, he would have completely bluescreened. Maybe she can tell, he could read when tough topics were left unsaid when he was her age. Maybe that’s not so much trauma but them both taking after their mother.

Who knows. Certainly not Zuko. But he’s doing his best to roll with it as it comes.

He does know Sokka is sad, but not in a totally straightforward manner and it’s not in a way Zuko quite knows how or feels like it’s his place to elaborate upon.

Sokka does wear his emotions on his sleeve way more than he wants to or thinks he does, but crying really is reserved almost exclusively for Zuko, with very few exceptions. So as soon as Noriko and everyone leaves, Sokka runs upstairs.

Zuko follows him up and finds him curled up on his bed, holding close to a pillow. He’s peeling the skin off of his lips, not even consciously aware of himself picking away at them. And he’s still crying but he’s keeping quiet about it, and he’s only slightly shaking so—all in all, he hopes—keeping himself together well enough.

Zuko doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t ask Sokka if he needs to talk. Because he knows.

Sokka does need to talk, but he won’t for the moment. He couldn’t form the appropriate words if he tried and that would only frustrate him and upset him more, and he deeply appreciates Zuko not asking him for anything. He just lies down behind him and brings him into his arms. He doesn’t question. He doesn’t prod. He doesn’t speak at all.

Sokka just leans into it, guiltily allowing himself to take the comfort. He hates this, he doesn’t deserve Zuko’s affection after fucking up his reunion with his mother two damn days in a row, as if ruining one isn’t enough of an unforgivable offense. This is such a big deal, this is so important, and no matter how much Sokka misses his mom and no matter how much this makes him more desperate than ever to be able to see her again, he has no damn excuse for getting in the way of Zuko’s good fortune and letting his own messed up head put his grief ahead of that.

But Zuko apparently doesn’t feel the same. Another drop in the therapy fuel bucket.

Zuko is craning his neck over Sokka just right, coming in closer to kiss the tears rolling down his cheeks. Sokka can’t help but sigh, warm and loved and secure.

Sokka is so soft and empathetic, and Zuko’s hardest edges long to imitate it. He’s doing better than he realizes, too, though, admiring how strong Sokka has to be to let down the walls that leave him feeling so exposed and helpless.

But Sokka just…he misses his mom, dammit. Sometimes he forgets how much he misses her.

Because for Katara—because he truly believed he should even though she would never have asked or expected it of him—he spent so much time repressing how profoundly he misses her.

But he does. He misses her so fucking much and it feels so miserably fresh and it hurts.

Sokka adores Noriko, though. And Kiyi is so cute and sweet, and Ikem seems great. But most importantly, Sokka adores Noriko. He can’t explain it, and maybe he really is just completely losing it after all these years of hiding his grief that’s apparently suddenly become extremely displaced, but hugging her nearly felt like being an untraumatized child again. Hell, maybe he’s just having some sort of hysterical childhood longing based sympathy attachment with Zuko. He doesn’t get it. This is another great example of what therapists are for, he supposes.

As for the moment, though, Sokka is pretty sure the hour has just struck depression nap o’clock with a resounding chime, and he has no interest in hearing anything to the contrary.

And the warmth of Zuko’s reassuring lips and of his consolatory embrace makes it so, so easy to let go and give in, just for a little while.

***

Sokka lies on his couch with his head in Zuko’s lap. Suki’s staying with Ty Lee tonight, so it’s just the two of them. They’ve been going back and forth between The Mandalorian and Schitt’s Creek for the past week or so but now they’ve somehow taken a turn towards Masterchef, which works considering it takes exactly zero brain energy to consume and neither of them have any.

“Is this asshole really trying to melt chocolate over direct heat?” Sokka gripes between alternating handfuls of Cheetos and McDonald’s fries, just as one of the judges accosts the offending contestant about the importance of double boilers, and it would be a lot funnier if it weren’t for the detail Zuko knows for a fact Sokka is not the usual armchair critic but no doubt can and would do it right.

They have snacks, they have mind numbing television, and they have each other and only each other. It’s what they need right now.

Tonight’s show went well, and it served well as a distraction for Zuko and Sokka alike. Even if Sokka hadn’t planned on attending every performance from the start, he would absolutely have attended this one to avoid being alone. The subject matter isn’t the best means of escaping family feels, but it’s better than his brain.

Zuko leans over and picks up a Kit Kat bar from the pile of convenience store acquisitions on the coffee table, and the sound Sokka hears after the wrapper is removed is one that will haunt him for the rest of his life, and causes him to abruptly shoot upright.

It is the sound of one single crunch.

“Zuko,” he says slowly, the abject horror he’s feeling dripping through his voice. “What. The fuck. Did you just do.”

Zuko stares at Sokka with an expression of utter confusion, opening his mouth but not getting anything to come out, simply frozen in place with the unbroken Kit Kat now bearing a large, solid corner bite in his hand, on display as though it isn’t evidence of a war crime.

Sokka shifts himself over to the cushion beside Zuko and points (or more like flails while extending one finger) at the offending piece of candy. Zuko looks at Sokka, and then at his own hand, and then back at Sokka, and then instantly bursts into howling laughter.

“Oh my god,” Zuko exclaims through his cackles after figuring out what Sokka is referring to. “Why are you booing me? I’m right.”

“No, Zuko, I—how can you—what did—Zuko, no. Shit, you think you know a person. I can’t believe Suki left me alone with you, I think I need to call her and ask her to come home. We need to stage an intervention. Wait, Suki, did she know? Did Katara? Someone who could have warned me about—I’m going to have nightmares about this…”

“Melodramatic, much?” Zuko is still laughing. “Honestly, Sokka, what’s the big deal?”

“They are designed to snap! People put so much time into designing a chocolate bar you can snap! How can you betray them all like this?”

Because this opposition to Zuko’s (clearly superior) style of Kit Kat consumption would be tied to the engineering and innovation side of Sokka’s brain.

Zuko, however, shrugs. “Because this way is more satisfying.”

“Zuko, I love you, I love you so much, but we…I can’t talk about this right now. I need time to process this information.”

Zuko rolls his eyes and continues eating his Kit Kat using his apparently blasphemous method, and then Sokka determines they need to watch something different because he can’t bear to think any more about food.

“You’re going to make Teo’s dad give me a talking to about respecting design and intention, aren’t you?” Zuko teases. He doesn’t typically manage to follow a joke this far, and Sokka would have to admit he’s proud if he wasn’t so appalled.

“Oh, you bet your ass I am,” Sokka shakes his head, and he’s never going to acknowledge it but this is precisely the night he needed.

Their fall down the Hulu hole eventually leads them to Lego Masters, and Zuko does not further break Sokka’s heart by informing him he has never once in his life played with Legos, because Sokka is losing his shit watching this, in the best way possible, and the way he smiles explaining his own personal Lego adventures is everything to Zuko.

And despite it all, Sokka adores Zuko now just as much as he did before he learned he regularly commits atrocities for fun.

(Suki, meanwhile, actually does usually break them apart, but upon hearing Sokka shout about the disgust he finds in it when they see each other again the following afternoon, she will proceed to look him dead in the eye while taking a bite out of a full bar same as Zuko, at which point Sokka will throw a pillow and stomp away into his bedroom complaining about the awful dual betrayal of his boyfriend and best friend he’s just experienced and of being surrounded by monsters, quite possibly only half-joking.)

Chapter Text

Teenage Zuko couldn’t stand to be touched.

It’s almost funny now.

It made sense at the time. The only person who could dare to come into any kind of physical contact with him was Iroh, and even with him Zuko would more than occasionally freak out about it when he did.

It was nearly a year of siblinghood before he let Toph hug him. Lucky for him it was every bit as hard for her and the panicked reluctance was a mutual experience (which later they’d laugh at, but it was not even remotely amusing then).

Teenage Zuko would be staring at Current Zuko with his jaw on the fucking floor, how easily and comfortably he fits his body against Sokka’s.

Sokka’s knee is flaring again. Sokka is slowly coming to terms with the fact this is just going to be his winters from now on but it still makes him so fucking sad. Zuko has not yet had the nerve to bring up the idea of part time cane use. He doesn’t know how Sokka would respond but he doubts he’d take it well. Hell, Zuko knows how well he took it when Ty Lee brought it up to him once, and the fact this was years ago and he has yet to ever use one.

But in any case, as for right now a cane would not help Sokka with the added feature of his surgery scars acting up, too. Where the incision was, the skin is tight and tingly and it’s a sensation he doesn’t understand what to do with and honestly, neither does Zuko. Sokka thought Zuko would be able to help, even just offer advice as to how to dull it, when he first complained about it but Zuko had nothing. The nerve damage in his face was too severe for him to ever have had this problem, and he feels terrible about it.

That’s probably also due to the weather, but it’s still hard to see Sokka suffer so.

So instead of helping with the pain he cannot help with, Zuko just holds Sokka. It’s a familiar routine, but repetition has done nothing to numb the impact.

They fit together so well, limbs and lips completing a puzzle. Both their therapists would tell them not to see the other as a missing piece of themselves, that this is not a healthy mindset. Neither would be willing to listen to them.

They are lying together in Sokka’s bed (it’s been Sokka’s apartment almost exclusively since Long Day’s Journey into Night began, and there’s no particular reason after Noriko and her family left but that’s just been how it’s gone), immersed in soft blankets that serve equally as a comfort texture and extra warmth in this poorly insulated building that Sokka’s leg needs, even if Zuko has to poke his feet out from underneath them to keep himself from overheating too terribly.

Zuko is so tired, Sokka doesn’t get what it is he loves about performing so much. He’s incredible at it and Sokka loves to watch him, but Zuko has been such a fucking zombie so much of the time and Sokka isn’t sure what to do with that. It’s taken Zuko’s normal level of emotional wreck and amplified it to the hundredth power and Sokka is happy to support him through it but goddamn, he just does not understand.

He isn’t going to question it, either, at least not until all of the performances are over (even as the White Lotus directors are already plotting what play they’d like to put on next, and as Zuko is making sure to be as much a part of this conversation as they’ll allow him to be). But they are currently relaxing in the hours between Zuko’s opening shift this morning at the Jasmine Dragon and tonight’s performance, and Zuko looks dead to the world and was visibly struggling to hold himself together the second he sat down in Sokka’s car after work.

(It’s about the opportunity to be someone else, despite the struggle of the comedown that accompanies going back to being himself. It’s about refusing to give up on doing what he’s loved for so long no matter how much harder his body fights him on being able to keep it up the older he gets. He’s lost too much to his own mental and physical health already; he isn’t losing this, not at any cost.)

Sokka kisses him softly, sweetly, but then Zuko turns the tables, shifts the mood.

This tension born out of each individual’s mind spiralling is palpable, and while neither are at fault both are anxiously uncomfortable with the stark silence between them. Between Sokka’s rejection sensitivity and Zuko’s borderline, one of them needs to say or do something. Some days they can lie like this for hours without a care, and other days the internal negativity they each house wraps around the other until one of them does something to snap them out of it.

It’s a learning curve, and they’re figuring it out at a decent pace. They always manage to stop it from becoming damaging. They always manage to catch it before it becomes too consuming to the other. They are simply too alike sometimes, and that can occasionally be difficult to work around.

But it’s worth fighting through. They are worth fighting for.

And therapy is helping. As hard as it was to accept, this was unquestionably the right call.

Sokka has, as well, taken some small comfort in Dr. Guo repeatedly making a point to tell him he is far from the most fucked up client he’s ever seen. The feeling is oddly similar to the validation Zuko receives whenever Dr. Shyu explicitly tells him that he is the most fucked up of any client he has treated in his long career.

Zuko would never in a million years say anything about that to Sokka, though, because he knows damn well Sokka would only use that as fuel to play trauma olympics and not believing his problems are as important as Zuko’s, and Zuko is trying his best not to let Sokka do that.

Zuko knows, logically, that Sokka’s body’s rigidity and the little huffs in his breathing and the distance in his eyes has nothing to do with him, but…

And Sokka knows Zuko’s recent exaggerated introversion is in no way personal but it can be so fucking hard to rationalize and this…well, this is nice. This is very nice.

This is perfect.

Zuko knows how he gets during shows and how hard it is to be around, so he doesn’t usually talk to anybody when one is going on. But now there’s Sokka, who would feel rejected and hurt, and Zuko knows he still does even now with Zuko right here, so he’s going to do what he can with what little energy he has.

And he can easily spend some spoons on this.

Zuko pushes himself closer and closer against Sokka, making his kisses deeper and more desperate, heated and longing. Sokka eagerly takes the hint and follows suit.

Zuko tugs on Sokka’s bottom lip with his teeth and in an instant they are no longer lying on their sides but Zuko is pushed down onto his back, straddled by Sokka.

“Fuck, Zuko,” Sokka whispers into his mouth, both their heart rates increasing so quickly.

Zuko kisses Sokka with a fierce passion, pressing into him dramatically, so needy it’s almost pornographic. He doesn’t want to pull back, not ever, giving absolutely no fucks about minor details like oxygen deprivation.

Sokka fights to breathe through his nose, not wanting to let up. Zuko feels so good like this, like they were fucking made for each other, and breathing is a secondary concern.

Sokka is the one to break first, having just a slightly stronger self-preservation instinct than Zuko. The separation is involuntary and he isn’t any happier about it than Zuko is, but it gives Zuko the chance to speak.

“Sokka, love, need you…”

The words love and need panted out in that beautiful breathy whine Zuko gets like this is earth shattering, and Sokka in a matter of seconds Sokka has lost all patience and is fumbling on the edge of coherence.

Sokka peels off Zuko’s clothing at lightning speed and then clumsily pries at his own while he simultaneously reaches over towards the nightstand, all without entirely breaking physical contact with Zuko.

This aspect is going through the motions, moving as fast as they can to go forward and every last brain cell between them shutting down.

The lube has been acquired from the top drawer before either of them legitimately manage the ability to think about its importance, and Sokka is kissing Zuko’s neck while teasing his prostate with one slick finger.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty,” Sokka sighs into Zuko’s skin, and he leans up to bite the tip of Zuko’s right ear. “You are…you are so beautiful…”

“But you, Sokka, you are so…fucking stunning, babe,” Zuko responds, and Sokka’s eyes light up. “Sokka, have you…I mean, god, do you know how gorgeous you are? So fucking perfect, I…ah…”

Zuko isn’t usually very talkative during sex, unlike Sokka who never shuts the hell up (which Zuko adores), and it was easy enough to figure out how much Zuko gets off on being praised, but it had never even occurred to Sokka that he might want to be on the receiving end sometimes, too.

Sokka never really asks for much when it comes to sex. It’s true he is eager to please, that he’s sure his picture alone should show up when looking up the definition of service top, and he genuinely does love giving and fulfilling desires and he feeds off the reactions he can pull out of his partners, and Zuko more than anyone he’d been with before. But there might be some small part of him he’s never been aware of that doesn’t ask for anything because he doesn’t believe he deserves it.

But Zuko catches the look on Sokka’s face, even as he is already falling deep into a headspace of no thinking, only feeling bordering on subspace and he doesn’t let it drop. Returning Sokka’s words just sort of happened, he didn’t exactly think before he spoke, but he’s glad he did.

He moans at the addition of a second finger, whimpering Sokka’s name again and again. “So good at that, fuck, feels so good. Sokka, you’re so good, you’re so fucking beautiful, please, please…”

Sokka doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his entire life.

“Mm, let me hear you, baby,” Sokka says before kissing Zuko again, the low little hums Zuko emits reverberating into Sokka’s core.

Sokka proceeds to sink his teeth into Zuko’s neck, hard enough to leave a mark, and Zuko’s back arches and his arms flail up and around Sokka and his nails dig into Sokka’s shoulderblades, and Sokka shivers at the touch.

“Fuck me, please. Fill me up, make me yours.”

“Oh my god, Zuko, fuck.” Sokka’s ready to burst and no one has so much as has laid a single fingertip on his cock yet.

He is so fucking gone for Zuko and he hadn’t known it could go any further and yet.

“Sokka…”

“You want me to fuck you like the gorgeous slut for me you are? Want me to tear you apart until you can’t walk right?”

Sokka’s dirty talk is nothing new but this is on a whole other level, and all Zuko can do is repeat “yes” until it doesn’t sound like a real word anymore, curses and Sokka’s name sprinkled in. His brain is fried already, there is nothing but the sound of Sokka’s voice and the sensation of Sokka’s touch.

And then finally, finally Sokka is inside him and wastes no time setting a rough and steady pace, rolling his hips just right and savoring the filthy sound of their bodies frantically slapping together.

“You take it so well, sweetheart.” Sokka’s words are shaky and labored between heavy breaths and harsh thrusts, and Zuko’s eyes are glassy and unfocused, pupils blown wide, alternating between Sokka’s face, the ceiling, and the back of his own head. “So pretty with a cock inside you. That’s right, Zuko. Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

“So good,” Zuko slurs. “So, fucking, perfect, uhn, I…oh god, Sokka, feels so good, you—unf, uh, I…Sokka, so fucking hot, beautiful, beautiful, I…”

This is not going to last long. It’s amazing how much they’d needed this, the difference this can make in their recent disconnection and personal minor meltdowns, and short and sweet isn’t necessarily a bad thing but they want more, they need more, so if they can just hold on…

Zuko reaches up to cup Sokka’s cheek, those lost eyes of his concentrating on Sokka’s face as well as he possibly can in this state, and Zuko’s smile looking at him like this cracks something incredible in the deepest recesses of Sokka’s heart, bursting a dam, letting loose an untapped flood of hopeless devotion and affection.

Sokka slaps Zuko’s hand away and at first they both think this action is leading somewhere much kinkier but instead Sokka grips Zuko’s hands, weaving their fingers together, pinning him down but not for the sake of the pinning itself, not for dominance but simply for holding Zuko’s hands.

“I swear to god, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Sokka’s volume increases with every word, but never quite overpowering how obscenely loud all of the unintelligible little noises pouring out of Zuko are. “That’s right, scream for me, baby. Let the whole fucking building—the whole fucking neighborhood—hear how desperate you are for my cock, how much you love being under me, how fucking pretty you sound when you’re all full of me.”

“Love it, yeah, Sok—Sokka, love—love you…”

The amber ring of Zuko’s irises are nearly nonexistent, and he is full on goddamn howling but he’s completely out of words.

He is so overtaken by Sokka, Sokka, Sokka he can’t even see straight, his heart is beating out of his chest, he’s not entirely sure he didn’t die at some point between when Sokka started undressing him and now.

And then without warning he’s coming harder than he has ever come before, wailing, writhing and spasming and there is nothing Sokka can do to keep him still. The ringing in his ears isn’t his tinnitus, it’s tied to the colorful spots dancing at the edge of his eye that’s nearly all he can see. It’s like he’s forgotten how to breathe and everything is spinning and Sokka is calling his name as he falls over the edge as well, but Zuko is floating somewhere else, where everything is Sokka but nothing is anything.

Sokka doesn’t pull out right away, can’t bring himself to move. Zuko looks how Sokka feels. Zuko looks fucking wrecked. If he could make himself do anything aside from collapse on top of Zuko, and if Zuko wouldn’t kill him for it, he’d be reaching for his phone to take a picture. The image of that face is more than likely going to be burned into his brain for the rest of his life anyway, photographic evidence or no photographic evidence, but holy fuck, if Zuko could see himself like this, then he would have to see what Sokka sees. Right?

But no, he still wouldn’t understand why Sokka is so beside himself right now, Sokka knows he wouldn’t. Much like Sokka himself would probably just scoff and shrug it off if Zuko were to try to show him how pretty he just learned Zuko thinks he is while Sokka is pounding his brains out, but…

That was fucking transcendent. It doesn’t even make sense, that came from nowhere and there wasn’t anything particularly special about it in comparison to any of the rest of their times together but it was them and…wow.

Sokka is actually genuinely lightheaded, face planted into Zuko’s chest, and everything is a blur. He would not be joking if he were to express concern over his legs refusing to hold him up or possibly outright passing out if he were to try to stand. The latter thought might be a slight exaggeration but only very slight, possibly not at all the more aware he becomes of his own breathless shaking and racing pulse, when that is virtually all he is aware of, and the former seems an honestly very likely scenario and he sure as hell isn’t risking either outcome.

“Zuko? You with me, love?” Finding a voice and forming words does not come naturally in this moment, not even for Sokka. Now that is monumental. But Zuko’s breathing is so shallow if he couldn’t feel his breath so closely he’d be worried it had ceased entirely.

He can also feel that every muscle in Zuko’s body is stiff and taut as Sokka’s, all of it clenched painfully tight in the intensity of the spectacle that just went down between them.

It was all so fucking worth it.

“Mm. Mhm.” Zuko could not speak properly if someone tried to pay him real money to do so, but that’s fine. As far as from where Sokka stands, that’s damn flattering.

They really need to shower. They should at least make any effort to clean up.

Sokka’s hands are still wrapped up in Zuko’s, and Zuko starts weakly squeezing in sets of three. Sokka understands what he’s saying. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.

They should get up.

Or they could nap. There’s enough time for a nap, and they are not getting up or even trying to kid themselves by thinking otherwise.

And staying close like this is currently the most important thing in the entire world. So this is what they’ll do.

***

Something is different between them. They can’t explain it. They don’t understand why so much seems so different after that lovely afternoon delight, or even why said delight was so much different in itself, but it was and it is.

And that’s not a bad thing.

If anything, now they are more sure of each other than they ever had been before.

Even if Sokka could (jokingly and lovingly) throttle Zuko after having a short conversation backstage with Piandao about sword fighting and Sokka finding out this is not only a thing Piandao does but is a thing he is willing to teach him, and then after giddily relaying this information to Zuko being met with the reply, “Oh yeah, I know, I trained with him for years.”

“Dude, I own swords. You’ve seen them. How could you never think to share this with me?”

“I assumed they were decorative, or that you’d already know how to use them if you have them.”

Sokka narrows his eyes but doesn’t have any retort. “Okay, fair. But you’ve still been holding out on me. You owe me a boba for this.”

Zuko can’t help but laugh. “You get boba out of me almost every single day.”

And all Sokka can do is match the snarky affection in Zuko’s tone, and that tiny smirk he’s wearing. “Well, I guess I’ll come and collect tomorrow, then.”

“You’re an idiot,” Zuko says, playful and endeared. “I love you.”

And he does. Oh god, how he does.

He isn’t sure if he should be more or less afraid of that, of the way his chest flutters when he sees Sokka’s eyes like this is new all over again.

“I love you, too, babe.”

Sokka doesn’t want to leave his side but it’s almost showtime so he should go find his seat. It hasn’t gotten old, watching Zuko light up the stage, and everything feels a lot better in Sokka’s own brain since that remarkable reassurance they provided each other earlier.

He sits down and pulls out his phone before the lights dim, shooting a quick text to Suki.

Suki: bro i’m with toph what do you want

Suki: we’re a little, uh, busy. make it quick.

Sokka: Damn, thank god Zuko isn’t looking over my shoulder right now.

Sokka: Anyway you still cool if I do The Thing™? But like, tomorrow? Wanna come with?

Suki: what the hell, sokka, i thought we agreed we weren’t doing this yet. yeah i know i said i’m on board but i didn’t mean NOW.

Suki: what brought this on?

Sokka: I don’t know. It just feels right.

Suki: GAY

Suki: ok then i guess we’re doing this

Suki: zukka nation rise up

Sokka: You’re really still doing the “Zukka” thing?

Suki: yes but this time toph actually told me to say that

Sokka: Of course she did.

Sokka: Oh shit, lights going down, gotta go. We’ll talk more about this later.

Suki: 🙄 you’re lucky i love you

Suki: BOTH of you. you AND zuko. so lucky.

Sokka: I know 🥰😘 ily2 💙

Chapter Text

Sokka loves shopping.

No, really, Sokka loves shopping. It is a problem.

Particularly when he has a non-negotiable time limit, and this is only their first errand of the day.

And not only did he pick up a wide array of shit he was never even looking for when they came to the mall (he shouldn’t have bought that bag, but it matches his belt so well, how could he resist?), but he has looked at every millimeter of this shop roughly a billion times over.

(How he succeeded in that Build-a-Bear trip without getting sidetracked and wasting several hours dancing around from store to store is an absolute miracle he will never understand and would love to figure out how to replicate.)

“I’ll just call Iroh and tell him to make Zuko work an extra hour or something,” Sokka laughs at himself, his arms in the air, flustered.

“You would really do that to Zuko?” Suki rolls her eyes. “You would have the audacity to make him work a longer shift than he was prepared for—make him perform his work mask longer than he has to—when you know damn well that will fuck his whole day over, if not his whole week?”

“Fuck, no, of course I wouldn’t do that,” Sokka sighs. “But Suuuuukiiiii, decisions are hard.”

Suki chuckles and pats Sokka on the shoulder, and then points. “That one.”

“Oh.” Sometimes (okay, all the time) Sokka has no clue what he would do without her. “Oh Suki, you’re right, that…that’s it. How did I not—”

“Because you’re a chronic overthinker and perfectionist and you were too stuck in your own head to see what was right in front of you.”

“You know what, that’s just rude.”

“Am I wrong?”

“I never said that.”

He shakes his head and she smirks, and he thinks about how easily he could have done exactly that with Zuko and how thankful he is that somehow, this time, he did see what was right there and he didn’t let it slip by.

Suki squeezes Sokka’s shoulder (the right one, as the left still bothers him just like his knee, although he’s been better at hiding that and keeping his complaints about it to a minimum). “So, you really are doing this.”

He sighs a little nervously, shrugging. “Okay so I’m not doing this doing this—I mean not, like, today, but…I’ll be ready, and that’s honestly a lot of pressure I’m taking off my brain. I think I’m going to wait to, you know, do the thing for real, but now I can at least get this part out of my head. Because let’s be real, is there any doubt this is happening sooner or later?”

“Not even a year ago, there definitely would have been,” Suki answers honestly, with nothing but the purest affection. “I mean, you know. I wasn’t sure you’d ever be able to think about this, with anyone. I was really worried for a long time you were never going to let yourself love again, but now look at you. I’m so proud of you, Sokka.”

That was a little more emotional exposure than Sokka was ready for or ever wants thrown at him in public, but it means a lot to hear.

“And this isn’t even the big part of the day,” he chuckles. “But you know the weirdest part? Is that it’s not weird. It’s just right, you know?”

“Strangely enough, I do. Now let’s get this done because you’re right, we still have to do the big part and we’re running low on time, so…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Hooboy. Okay.”

What Sokka doesn’t know is that Suki has been let in on another secret, a huge secret, that it is currently taking everything in her power not to spill. But she grins and lets her best friend have his fun with this, happy to be there to support it, and she knows it won’t ruin anything—in fact, it might well make this even better.

***

Once when they were tipsy, Zuko told Sokka about how when he was a kid, he was obsessed with dragons. It probably had a lot to do with his mom and Love Amongst the Dragons, but in any case he loves them and was devastated when he found out they’re not real, and he and his mom would spend much of their time together playing with imaginary dragon friends and drawing them and going so far as to name them, distinguishing them by color, and this lasted all the way up until she left.

And these dragons weren’t at all monstrous. They weren’t mean, they weren’t violent. They didn’t even roar. These dragons meowed.

The only one of their dragons Zuko remembers the name of, though, is Druk. He was the red one. And because of this, Zuko has always wanted a ginger tabby he could bestow that moniker upon.

Zuko would likely never expect Sokka to remember this. For that matter, Zuko might not remember telling Sokka this.

But as Sokka watches the machine at the pet store engrave “Druk” onto the red tag they’ll attach to the shiny red collar with the gold bell, he thinks about how he cannot wait to see Zuko’s face when he meets his new kitten, and even more when he learns what Sokka chose to call him.

“Okay, Sokka, real talk.” Suki knows it’s much too late for what she’s about to say, as far too much money has been spent on too many priceless but also non-refundable items, including but not limited to an actual breathing furry huge responsibility it’s now their job to keep alive. If she was aiming to talk him out of anything, that ship has sailed. But she isn’t. He’s been the happiest she’s ever seen him, through injury and all, and she would never want to say anything to make him second guess this. That could be why she’s only just now bringing it up. But she does still worry about him, and she knows how much he’s been hurt in the past by actions unintented to cause him pain but which didn’t bring him any less anguish for that fact.

“What, Suki? You know, if you wanted to ask if I’m afraid I’ll change my mind—”

“No, Sokka…no. That’s not it. I know you don’t. I’m just a little worried about, uh…” Without thinking about it she boops Druk’s nose from the carrier he’s in, which is resting in a chair next to the giant display that’s now etching the words “call my step-dad” and Sokka’s phone number on the other side of his name tag. “I’ve never seen you so sure of anything for as long as I’ve known you and I am living for it, believe me. But.”

Suki leans closer to Sokka, speaking almost directly into his ear as quietly as she can. “But you know that whole thing where Zuko can be really self-destructive and doesn’t always realize he’s doing things until he’s already done them. And how you worry he might someday do something like that there’s no coming back from? I guess maybe I should have said this sooner but Sokka, what happens if he does, and now we have a cat? Is that something we can—”

“That won’t happen,” Sokka answers quickly, too quickly, clenching his teeth. “It won’t. So it’s fine.”

“Sokka…”

“That won’t happen,” he repeats. “I won’t let it.”

“You can’t control that. You know you can’t control that. You couldn’t—”

“I couldn’t, I know. That was then, this is now. I won’t let that happen again. I appreciate your concern and I love you, you know that, but we’re not talking about this anymore. Please.”

Suki bites her tongue to keep herself from muttering something snarky yet sincere about therapy and what is and isn’t in the realm of Sokka’s power to prevent. But she knows she can’t rush him. Sokka’s progress is not in her power to control, just like Sokka’s partners’ mental illnesses aren’t in his. And that’s okay. He’s getting help and he is making progress, and that’s also more than she could have imagined him doing not even a year ago, so she’ll accept the victory for what it is and let the subject go for now.

Hopefully Sokka’s right, anyway, and nothing will happen and this conversation was pointless.

She just loves Sokka so much and can never be too careful.

For the time being, she can change the subject. “Do you think anyone here knows anything about how to get your cat to choose a Hebrew name?”

Sokka looks Suki in the eyes at that, snickering into his hand. “I’m sorry, what the fuck?”

“One of my coworkers has a cat who’s turning thirteen soon and she wants to give her a cat mitzvah, but she’s stuck on how to go about giving her a Hebrew name.”

“Please tell me you’re not making this up.”

“Cat mitzvah, Sokka. Cat mitzvah. Do I look like I’m making that up?”

And with Sokka on the edge of completely losing it laughing, turning to this conversation was unquestionably the correct decision.

***

Sokka figures out the cause of the shift, on his end anyway, about midway through the drive home. Druk is yowling in Suki’s lap while she pets him and assures him it’s not a long ride and he’ll be free of this fast cage soon enough, and suddenly Sokka almost veers into the other lane, casually thanking whoever or whatever there was no opposing traffic for him to have crashed into if he had gone any farther into the wrong side of the road.

He quickly pulls over into a massive shopping center parking lot on his side of the street so he can breathe. One of the nice things about such a big city, there’s shit like this everywhere and it’s never going to be a long wait for the next opportunity to stop if a panic attack happens to occur.

“Breathe, Sokka, talk to me. What just happened?”

Sokka’s eyes are closed and his forehead has been slammed into the top of the steering wheel, leaving a red indentation to form as he digs himself further in.

“I know what brought this on,” he says, shaking through rapid breaths. “You asked what brought this on, what the rush was and I…I just realized it, it’s…”

“Oh,” Suki whispers when the realization hits her, too. Okay so maybe she really should not have voiced her concerns about the cat. If she had remembered sooner, she wouldn’t have.

“I can’t believe I forgot,” Sokka continues, and he pulls away just enough to once more smack his head back into the wheel. Suki adjusts herself in her seat so she can rub Sokka’s back while ensuring Druk’s carrier is secure in her lap with her other hand.

“Suki, I forgot. I forgot what day it is, I might as well have forgotten her. Yeah, yeah, I learned to love again, that’s great, I get it, but that’s no excuse to fucking forget. And now, fuck, Suki, how do I know I’m doing any of this for the right reasons? Was this subconsciously all just a diversion? Do I really love Zuko enough for anything to make sense? Because you’re right, I did rush this for no good reason and I mean, I already didn’t lo—”

“If you’re about to say you ‘didn’t love Yue enough,’ I am going to—with all the love in my heart—fucking strangle you.”

She decides this time to simply put Druk down by her feet and leans her whole body towards the driver’s seat, wrapping her arms around him.

“Come on, Sokka. Deep breath. In for five seconds, out for seven. You can do it.”

She has to admit she’s a little ashamed of herself for not remembering the significance of today’s date. She should have better questioned why all the patience Sokka had been working on about not moving too fast with Zuko when his heart has been telling him he should (which, to be fair, Suki actually doesn’t necessarily disagree with, but she was hoping to avoid Sokka having a breakdown like this when he inevitably started second guessing, even though this specific scenario is not how she anticipated that happening).

But she has been the person Sokka went to first every year when the anniversary hit him like a ton of bricks, like it always does. This isn’t the first time he’s done something impulsive and this is far from the most extreme or potentially reckless impulsive decision he’s made around this time of year (see: Siberia), but she still can’t believe she missed it.

Sokka’s having been so happy with Zuko has been one hell of a distraction from the past tragedies of Sokka’s love life, and for him and his best friend both, it would seem.

“And then…Suki, oh god.” Sokka is trying to breathe. He is trying his hardest, he truly is. “If something does happen to Zuko, am I gonna actually just fucking forget him, too?”

“You would never forget Zuko, just like you didn’t forget Yue. We both know you have never forgotten Yue. It’s okay you got a little carried away with Zuko because he’s here and he has been so good for you and come on, wouldn’t Yue want that for you? I mean, if the roles were reversed you would have wanted that for her, right? So wouldn’t she want you to be happy?”

Suki can’t say she’s quite comfortable attempting to speak for the dead, especially someone she’d never met, but she’s heard Sokka talk about Yue enough that she knows she has enough of an idea, and this is what Sokka needs to hear.

Sokka shakes his head, and neither of them know what he means by that.

“Okay, bro,” Suki starts again. “Here’s what’s about to happen. We are going to switch seats. I am going to drive home and you are going to bond with this little kitty we picked up because you have a wonderful, amazing boyfriend you’d do anything for and who would do anything for you—who would also not want you to be freaking out on his account—and you are going to call your therapist on the way. If you need me to, I can pick Zuko up from work. I’ll tell him whatever you want me to tell him, but we both know he’ll be understanding about the truth and he’ll only want to help you, too. Because people love you, Sokka, because you deserve it. Okay?”

“Not sure why,” Sokka mumbles, his acquiescence unspoken but heard loud and clear.

“You’re brilliant and clever and funny and kind. And when you love—romantically or with your friends and family—you love with your whole, giant heart. Being in the People Sokka Cares About Club is an honor and a privilege, and obviously Yue figured that out right away since she trusted you enough to follow you home. The only person who ever underestimates you, Sokka, is you. So stop being a dumbass and listen to us sometimes. We outnumber you by a lot, maybe we’re onto something.”

“Fuck, that was…a lot of emotional labor.” Sokka breathes in and out, getting a healthy pace back. “I’m sorry. Umm, thank you. Really. I’m trying. Therapy is hard, but I’m really working on this shit, I promise.”

“I know,” she smiles and ruffles his hair. “And you’re welcome. And don’t act like you wouldn’t do this for me, too, alright? I love you, Sokka. Now get out of the fucking car so I can get us home and we can start setting everything up for the new baby.”

Druk meows with perfect timing, and Suki and Sokka both laugh.

“Love you, too,” Sokka says as he opens the door so they can swap for a pleasantly uneventful remainder of the trip home.

***

Zuko feels different, too, though. He doesn’t have a concrete, nervous breakdown-inducing reason for it, but maybe he did just read between the lines with Sokka and sink into it, himself.

Or maybe it’s because of when a couple of days ago when he Facetimed with his mom, she could not stop gushing about Sokka and how sweet they are together, and she reminded Zuko countless times throughout their chat that he should bring Sokka with him when (she no longer uses “if,” and Zuko likes that) he finally visits.

He reminded her in turn that he promised Sokka he’d take a trip to his hometown first so trekking out to her will have to wait until after that, but he realized then that the idea of visiting Sokka’s home hadn’t felt entirely real until just then.

It’s probably just because Long Day’s Journey into Night is almost done and they determined they’d talk seriously about planning the trip once it ended, so the time it has to be real is fast approaching. And it never gets out of his head that Noriko managed to find a happy and healthy relationship so maybe he can also keep his.

It makes him think, too, about Hakoda and Bato and that could be us someday.

He wants nothing more than for that to be them someday. And it scares him that he legitimately believes it could be. It scares the hell out of him but it’s also impossibly freeing and exhilarating to somehow truly believe what he has with Sokka is made to last and he is allowed to have that.

He has, after all, known unforgivable cruelty alongside remarkable kindness, and he likes to think he’s learned to recognize the difference. And just like it’s difficult to accept but inconceivable to deny that Ikem is a good man, it is painfully difficult to accept but every bit as inconceivable to deny that Sokka loves Zuko as much as Zuko loves Sokka and that’s not changing.

It feels equally like something he should never be permitted to have and something so right and perfect and unyieldingly his.

They are never going to fix each other, they aren’t always even going to know how to help each other in any given moment, they will most assuredly hurt each other from time to time but that’s normal, and it’s okay as long as they can both understand this and not run away when it gets too tough.

And if that hasn’t happened yet, then…

Then it doesn’t seem out of line to doubt it’s going to happen. They have already helped unload so much baggage through so much turbulence in such a short period of time and it has changed nothing.

They are both so fucked up but by god, they are in it together.

Zuko is, admittedly, rather confused when Suki arrives alone at the Jasmine Dragon and informs him she’ll be fulfilling his promised ride today, but she insists everything is okay (Sokka accepted her offer to pick up Zuko while he was still on the phone with Dr. Guo, but he told her as well that he would rather explain his earlier panic attack to Zuko himself, and in person), but she also tells him they’ve made a rather significant change to the apartment which she guarantees Zuko he will love.

And when they walk in the door together, Zuko does not immediately know what to do with what he sees.

He notices first that Sokka is deeply despondent and unsteady and looks like he’s been crying. It is amazing that this is the first thing to catch his eye considering the second is that there is a kitten in Sokka’s lap.

“Hey, babe,” Sokka smiles as they walk in, and Zuko beelines to the couch to sit beside him.

Zuko kisses Sokka’s cheek, and Sokka tells him, “Hey look, we adopted a baby.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Zuko chuckles. “Since when did you want a cat?”

“Since you,” Sokka answers easily, and the love in that goes straight to Zuko’s chest. “Check out the collar.”

Zuko might actually cry when he sees the name on it, holy shit. There’s an awkward embarrassment blossoming in his throat but he is too enthralled by Sokka and his neverending ability to newly amaze him to care.

“You remembered? I told you that stupid dragon story while we were half drunk and you remembered?”

Sokka laughs. “First of all, it’s not stupid. Nothing about that story was stupid. It was really sweet and kind of sad but definitely not stupid. And secondly, of course I remembered. Suki and I already talked about the cat but since you told me that, I could make it a better surprise!”

“I am the luckiest person on the planet, Sokka, I swear. Fuck.”

“Hey. Don’t swear in front of the baby. We don’t want to teach him such bad habits so early.”

“You dork. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Suki is looking over at them even as he walks to her room, trying to contain the knowing smile of all the information she has in her head.

These two idiots deserve the world but most importantly as far as she sees it, they deserve each other.

And in a few days, she is not going to waste any time in making Mai pay up on the drinks she doesn’t yet know she owes her.

Zuko does have to question why only Sokka’s number is on Druk’s tag, and is again amazed by the answer.

“Well, this was all my idea so I didn’t give Suki’s because he’s not her responsibility, and I thought about adding yours but I couldn’t do that without asking first because I wasn’t sure about, like, your safety, you know? Like what if he did get out and someone from your birth family was in town for some reason—I mean that’s already happened once—and they found him so now some abuser you ran away from has your phone number, so I wasn’t going to assume…”

Zuko can only grin at how very much consideration Sokka had put into this. He yet again cannot believe his luck, and he buries his face into Sokka’s neck.

“You are perfect, honestly,” Zuko whispers into his skin. “How are you even real?”

“I’m really not, though.” Sokka promised Suki he’d talk to Zuko about his day and be honest and accept help, and he’s keeping that promise.

So he tells Zuko why Suki was the one to get him, about the anniversary of Yue’s death and his fear he’s starting to lose her and his guilt about that on top of his worries about holding onto Yue making Zuko feel insecure and how he never wants to do that to him but he also can’t do that to her, he tells Zuko about all the blame he’s explained before but that’s okay because he needs to get it out in this precise context right now, also reiterating his fears about losing Zuko, and Zuko just holds him and then offers to make him tea and insists he’s buying dinner later. Sokka accepts without a fight, and that alone is momentous.

And Zuko cannot wait to tell him mom about Druk.

Sokka also shows Zuko one in particular of his many unplanned purchases, a very special item he’s not ready to reveal to anyone else yet. He was so nervous about buying it he didn’t even let Suki see. He’ll show her later and she’ll be proud of him for taking this measure, but for the moment it stays between Sokka and Zuko, who understands better than most.

It’s a knee brace. Zuko scares the cat away tackling Sokka, he is so happy he was able to get this for himself.

Maybe they really are going to be okay.

Chapter Text

Closing weekend is the hardest.

Two days, four shows.

If Sokka thought Zuko was shutting down when it started, well…

He breathes in, reminds himself it’s not personal. He breathes out, reminds himself it’s not personal. Zuko does not love or care for him any less. Zuko is not rejecting him.

According to Toph, the fact he hasn’t legitimately temporarily abandoned him for the week is something she didn’t know was possible. They always do all they can to be around, not to leave him alone but at the same time respect his boundaries, to show him they’ll be there when he needs them, but he usually just passes them by like he doesn’t even see them, and getting so much as a sound out of him outside the theatre and his character is borderline unimaginable. She tells Sokka about all the times she wouldn’t hear a single word out of him while a play was going, how she also had to learn not to take it personally when he actually did actively ignore her and their dad and whatever friends they had, and she jokes about wondering what Sokka’s secret is and then begging him not to tell her if it’s a sex thing.

“You are deadass the best thing that’s ever happened to him, Boomerang,” she says. “After me, of course.”

She’s half kidding but also half not and honestly, Sokka’s fine with that. She and Iroh do have him beat on that count, and they should. And he loves them both for many reasons, but their helping make Zuko into who he is would have to be the big one. Being there for him all these years, giving him a family—that is everything.

But at the same time, Sokka’s response is effortless, one which requires no thought whatsoever, and just comes out. “He is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Sokka hasn’t really seen much of Zuko despite the fact they are still always at each other’s sides. It just so happens that this weekend, if Zuko isn’t on stage then he is floating somewhere between intense dissociation and sleep, and that means he has not been a great conversationalist and his presence with Sokka really only exists in theory. He might be there physically, but mentally he is nowhere.

He’s been able to nap between performances, though, which is new. Having Sokka in bed with him while he semi-unsuccessfully decompresses makes a world of difference.

Sokka has decided playing video games while Zuko dozes off with his head in Sokka’s lap is his new favorite activity.

(Even if he does regularly get distracted and blow his game just having Zuko there.)

And watching Druk curl up on top of Zuko while Zuko curls up on top of Sokka is so much more magical than he could ever have imagined.

There is also something huge Sokka did not anticipate about becoming a cat owner, which equally gives him additional understanding on why Zuko loves them so much and reminds Sokka that his boyfriend really is basically a cat himself, and that is the healing purrs.

The first time Druk sat on Sokka’s bad knee, he had been so caught off guard he without meaning to shouted and shooed the poor cat away. And then Zuko explained what he was doing, told Sokka about how cats can sense these things and how they use their purrs to heal themselves and that’s therefore most likely what Druk was trying to do for Sokka, and Sokka almost cried. He’d had no idea cats could be so sweet and caring, but this thoroughly confirms to Sokka that he absolutely did join a cat colony when he started dating Zuko, despite his previous protestations.

Sokka’s player character dies as he finds himself staring too long at the tiny poof of ginger fur balled up on Zuko’s back and contrasting against the dark hair falling around him, prompting Sokka to once again forget he was in the midst of a game at all and thus casually ignoring it and inadvertently sacrificing his mechromancer to several roving bandits in the process.

And in a game where respawns cost money, he figures this is a good time to stop.

Sokka pets Druk’s back and Druk meows, and Zuko meows back.

Sokka smiles. “You awake, babe?”

Zuko doesn’t answer or budge. He is very much still asleep.

Sokka feels better and better about his recent big shopping trip by the day. And not just the cat.

Zuko’s phone buzzes several times in a row, lying face up on the bed between Zuko’s stretched out arms and Sokka’s stretched out legs, and Sokka doesn’t mean to snoop but, again, Zuko’s large text settings makes not prying easier said than done.

Ty Lee: OMFG you two I swear

Ty Lee: I don’t even believe in this shit, like is there any basis for it that isn’t super centered on monogamy? Idk man. But honestly.

Ty Lee: I swear you nerds might be literal soulmates.

Ty Lee: (Oh my god they were soulmates)

He doesn’t bother Zuko, just carefully turns the phone over so he can’t see anymore if further texts come in, and he won’t mention it or question what the hell Ty Lee is talking about, but he can’t hold back the obscene grin which spreads across his face.

Oh yeah. Way more than just the cat.

***

Iroh and Toph also attend the final performance. Sokka is so fucking glad to see this end, watching Zuko collapsing in on himself way beyond Sokka’s liking, when all is said and done having performed for a total of fourteen hours in just these last two days. Only three and a half hours to go now before it’s finally over.

(Sokka does realize he will need to get used to it as he does understand Zuko will be doing this again in the near future, but it’ll be nice to get the break. It will be nice to see Zuko get the break.)

(And he is, of course, more than willing to learn to get used to this, because he knows it’s important to Zuko and Zuko is important to him, and this being part of the package doesn’t change anything about that. It will simply be quite the adjustment, is all.)

(But Sokka would also be full of shit if he ever said he didn’t feel so much pride in being able to say “that’s my boyfriend!” to Zuko’s magnificence.)

Toph manages to pull Zuko aside without Sokka for a few minutes and slips into her brother’s bag a couple of items she’s been holding onto for him for the past few days. He thanks her profusely, and then it’s go time.

Sokka doesn’t let him go without wishing him a good show free of any broken bones, as he has done before all of them, and Toph makes an exaggerated gagging sound when they kiss. Iroh chuckles, the love in it that’s always there only further fuelled for Zuko by knowing full well what Toph brought with her, and that’s that.

***

“‘The fog was where I wanted to be.’”

Sokka can’t not get emotional every time they get to this part, every time Zuko acts out these lines. That monologue is, after all, where Zuko first captivated every facet of Sokka’s heart like this, like he has never turned back from all these many months later.

Sokka has been tracking the forecast for the northern lights. He knows it’s never certain and he can plan to all the best of his abilities and may still not get what he wants, but he does have plans, and Hakoda has taken to kindly smiling and nodding whenever he goes into them over video chat (not out of disinterest or disapproval, but he’s heard this all a million times now and he loves seeing Sokka so excited, but…well).

Sokka never hears the end of it from Suki, only saved by the fact she lets it go whenever Zuko is around to hear them and that is as ever the vast majority of the time (although soon Sokka will no longer be the only one to face Suki’s incessant teasing about this, he just doesn’t know that yet). But it doesn’t stop her from blowing up his phone, even when they’re in the same room, to mess with him.

Suki asked a few days ago when Sokka knew. Not that anyone would believe him if he said he hadn’t known from the very start, but what made overthinking, hyper analytical, anxious disaster Sokka stop questioning everything.

“I watched a flock of geese approach him,” Sokka had answered. “Seriously, geese. We were walking through the park and…and the fucking geese wanted to be friends with him. They hissed at me if I so much as looked at them, but they kept following us for a while because they just seemed to like Zuko. Like they knew, too, that in a world full of awful, terrible things and awful, terrible people, Zuko is a fucking light against the shadows. I was pretty sure before then but there’s no coming back from that. He is it, Suki. He’s everything.”

Suki had snorted and called him gross and laughed at how fucking gay he sounded but she smiled so bright and was so happy for him.

(Which, also…gay.)

The first time Sokka saw Zuko perform this, some members of the audience—even then without the further context of the rest of the play—had been moved to tears. Zuko’s intensity, the emotional impact of his delivery, is every bit as incredible now as it had been then. Sokka is now among the crowd tearing up, though, with all the context of the piece he’s gained and the context of Zuko himself.

He’s amazing.

Sokka can no longer comprehend the knowledge that only a year ago, Zuko had not yet become a part of his life. It’s ridiculous to remember that only a year ago, Sokka was in Alaska and nervously preparing to return to Ba Sing Se as a lonely mess who’d long since given up on the prospect of romantic love. He had missed Katara but wasn’t eager to see her all the time again to feel constantly reminded of what an overachiever she is, how for all his brains she’s always outshined him. He was looking forward to seeing Suki again, to finally getting to live with his best friend despite his running off on her before, but the prospect of coming back here was bittersweet at best. He didn’t think he was going to settle here. He’d make the most of it until he couldn’t anymore. He’d always be close to Suki, even if they weren’t close in terms of physical location. His family would figure out seeing each other again and where, they always did. He had no idea where he’d go next but the world is full of opportunity and there are so many places unseen. He’d make it work.

But now he never wants to be anywhere else. Ba Sing Se is home. He loves this city, loves the life he’s made here. If Zuko ever wanted to go, he’d do it. He’d follow Zuko anywhere. But somehow he knows the reverse applies, that it will always be fair between them, and that Sokka as a person is Zuko’s home as much as Zuko is Sokka’s.

Sokka miraculously doesn’t have too many doubts. Zuko miraculously doesn’t either. They both worry, they both fear the thought of losing the other, what they see as logical doesn’t keep the spiralling at bay altogether, but it’s different. They can rationalize that these fears are unfounded, albeit largely with the aid of their therapists. But still. It’s true. That’s important.

Zuko told Sokka last night that the next play will most likely be during the summer. Apparently it looks like they’re going to end up on Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, another depressing story, and Zuko is of course planning to be in that one, too. Zuko has sworn to Sokka the White Lotus does choose happier tales sometimes, although he also freely admitted he is simply less interested in being part of those. Zuko is a fucking star in roles like this, but severely doubts his skills in comedy or really anything less melancholy. Sokka said he’ll just have to see for himself to compare. Zuko didn’t know what to say to that.

No matter what, that means this right now is the last show until summer. That gives them time to themselves. Time to travel, time to casually completely alter the course of the rest of their lives.

They have time. They have all the time in the world.

Sokka will give Zuko some time before he starts working on the plans he has in mind. He’s also going to be put to work for Ty Lee very soon, with the conclusion of Long Day’s Journey into Night leaving the theatre free for its next big event, which is officially scheduled to be the Oh Perilous World project, and there’s some time for that, as well, especially since Sokka may or may not have started sketching out plans for his part in it on his own time already. But sometime in the next month or so, Sokka and Zuko are both taking a week off and doing something special. How special is a concept Sokka is ready to burst over, but…

It will be goddamn special and that is a fucking promise.

Chapter Text

Zuko just wants to stay in bed for a week.

After the final curtain he was super high energy and couldn’t stop pacing or bouncing around and talking way too fast about nothing, but he was also in so much pain after everything that it wasn’t too difficult to medicate himself into crashing completely, for a quick chemical push (including a bit of Harlequin RSO which Ty Lee had given him to try for both his pain and insomnia) to adequately force his body’s needs to overpower his brain’s utter nonsense. He then proceeded to sleep for a solid fifteen hours.

It’s fine, it’s not like he’s ever had a healthy sleep schedule, anyway. He can’t break what’s already fucked beyond all hope.

And Sokka’s there, and so is the cat—their cat, and they’re cozy and comfortable and the perfect amount of warm, and it’s soothing and safe.

Zuko is sprawled out all across the bed, limbs encroaching into Sokka’s space, one hand on a thigh and one leg hooked around a calf. Sokka is sitting up, and Zuko catches the sound of the console being turned off. He appreciates that Sokka was letting him rest but still keeping him company. He really likes that.

He is exhausted, even now, but such a soft mess for Sokka.

Druk is lying in between Sokka’s legs, once again purring and nuzzled up against his left knee.

Zuko doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t want to know what time it is. He doesn’t want to move.

Sokka, as well, does not move. He doesn’t realize Zuko is (however negligibly) awake at all, and he replaces his controller with his phone, laugh reacting to memes on Facebook throughout a various assortment of “just @ me next time” themed groups overflowing with self deprecating humor all too relatable to far too many people.

Because it’s either laugh or cry, and Sokka has to laugh.

It’s almost 4:00pm and he debates if he should start prodding Zuko to at least take a shower and try to eat something, but he looks too peaceful. Sokka can’t get enough of watching him sleep whenever it looks like this, whenever his head can shut down enough to allow for it. And sure, this is sponsored by pushing himself so far past his limits for seven days straight and he is going to suffer for it for another several days at minimum, and that sucks to remember but Sokka won’t take away from him where it’s led for the time being. If Zuko needs the rest badly enough to actually be able to get it, that’s not for Sokka to get in the way of.

He has a lot of logistical shit to bring up soon. He’s still terrified he’s trying to move too fast and it’s going to freak Zuko out but Zuko continues to behave like he’s on the same page, and adopting a cat didn’t scare him, so it’s probably all good. The more Sokka thinks about their living situations, though, the more he wonders when and how to say anything about it. Especially considering the purchase burning a hole in the back of his closet. (And as he will shortly learn, the purchases burning holes in Zuko’s messenger bag.) Yes, things really are happening in the wrong order at many points, but they’re moving along and the pace is a disaster but he doesn’t (they don’t) mind.

Sokka had almost forgotten the full extent of just how strikingly fast and hard he loves and how there’s no coming back from it once he’s fallen, and Zuko never knew and it’s so hard for him to trust but he loves the same way.

It’s like a fucking nuclear reaction lighting up the sky, power and energy all consuming, brilliant and terrifying but safe in the proper hands.

Sokka also has the trip to Alaska mentally all laid out now, to every detail of the whats and the wheres, so he and Zuko only need to solidify the scheduling. If all goes according to plan…

Suffice it to say, it is a damn good plan and nothing could possibly ruin it. Nothing.

***

Mai has decided they need to reclaim their old karaoke nights with a clean slate. Apparently she found a great queer dive bar (and not that bar) which is her new favorite place and the head bartender who is also the karaoke DJ who also serves as the bar’s primary form of security perfectly embodies her favorite Cowboy Bebop quote, “I love the kind of woman that can kick my ass.” Therefore, everyone needs to come out with her. The drinks are also strong as hell and cheap as shit, so there’s no losing.

She redoes Zuko’s black and gay manicure, the one with the rainbow accent nails, and Suki gave Sokka a similar black and bi paint job.

(Sokka argues that he can do this himself, and that in fact he has, and his being ambidextrous gives him a special advantage in making both hands look good, but Suki argues that she wants to so he concedes.)

Zuko stares at Sokka’s hands as Suki works and smiles. Mai rolls her eyes, but she lovingly smirks at Zuko when he notices. Suki wants to laugh but doesn’t let it out, doesn’t let it show. She knows far too much and she’s ready to explode.

They’re going out tonight, Sokka and Zuko and Suki and Mai as well as Toph, Ty Lee, and Jin. Invitations were also given to Teo and Haru but neither of them had committed to coming. Katara and Aang have been informed about it and might make an appearance, but as the token allocishets among their friends Katara seemed concerned their presence might not be appropriate, so it’s all up to how well Aang is able to convince her it’s okay (in fairness, Toph told her it is, but Sokka appreciates his sister’s courteous intentions anyway).

Earlier in the day Mai and Zuko had gone out together for spontaneous piercings, too. They’d both left the tattoo parlor they went to with matching industrials in their right ears, and Zuko keeps struggling not to fiddle with the red bar that hadn’t been there a few hours ago.

(Zuko stopped at the industrial, unlike Mai, whose hand Zuko held while she gritted her teeth and screamed with the second nipple, a surprise after the first didn’t hurt at all, which she was then informed is fairly common.)

Sokka isn’t sure exactly how or why, but something about the new bright, shiny red in Zuko’s ear complements that unique golden hue in his eyes, and he’s staring even more than usual as a result.

It’s been almost two weeks since the show closed and now Ty Lee is the one pushing herself too far, but it’s also since given Sokka and Zuko real time to discuss what’s next for them when neither of them are at work, now that Zuko’s back to only dealing with his day job.

Meaning the plane tickets are purchased. They managed to get a flight plan which lets them stay beneath the Canadian border all the way until they get to Anchorage to connect to Igiugig.

Sokka doesn’t stop obsessively checking aurora borealis visibility. It’s the right time of year, which is optimistic, but he wants this to be perfect.

And that is the only “what’s next” talk they’ve actually had thus far, but it’s a start.

They leave in three weeks. They did not waste any time. Zuko is terrified but he is also legitimately excited. Sokka is ecstatic. This is going to be good. This will be very good.

Zuko internally debates if he should bring up some other…topics, to put it calmly, before or after. He’s never been known for his patience, and Mai has made it very clear to him she already knows he’s going to give in sooner rather than later. Zuko huffed and scowled but only because he knows she’s right.

Okay so maybe he needs to text Katara. Like, right now. Or once his nails dry, anyway.

Iroh knows what’s going on and has taken a stance the exact opposite of Mai’s. Iroh doesn’t disapprove but he’s encouraging Zuko to think things through and, of course, to practice patience.

Yeah, Mai is definitely going to win this one (even though she still doesn’t know she’s already lost that other bet with Suki).

“What are you smiling about?” Suki teases in Zuko’s direction. He hadn’t even realized he was.

“Uh, Sokka’s shirt,” he lies quickly and poorly. Sokka is wearing the now infamous “I’m not gay but my boyfriend is” tee again, and Zuko does always delight in it no matter how many times he sees it, but no one believes that’s what has him looking so happy but also no one follows up.

“You know, Sokka,” Suki promptly changes the subject because Zuko might not be aware of this but she absolutely knows what’s behind the look on Zuko’s face, “I would love to to play with makeup on you. I could do ‘bi-shadow,’ the colors would really bring out your eyes!”

“Sure, why the hell not,” Sokka agrees. This wouldn’t be the first time Suki’s made up his face, although it would be the first time he’d be wearing it out in public. But it works for their evening plans and he has no objection, so he runs with it.

“Zuko, can I give you rainbow eyes?” When Suki was a teenager she had wanted to be a makeup artist, and she has never stopped loving it. She does Ty Lee up before every performance; she might have abandoned the idea as a potential career but it’s never stopped being a passion.

“Umm, I’m not sure about the…you know, but if you want then I guess you can try…”

“I can do it,” Suki replies without delay. “It’ll be great, trust me.”

Fuck it. It’s a special occasion, Zuko has made up his mind and he’s not changing it. He’s not. So he might as well go as over the top with the rest of the details as he can, make the most out of every single aspect.

He’s texting Katara.

***

Mai laughed—she really, truly laughed—when Zuko asked her to stuff a certain something into her purse while he stuffed another certain something into his hoodie pocket.

Ty Lee is going to lose her shit.

Not that she isn’t already in on Suki’s end of both ongoing bets, but Zuko didn’t know what exactly she meant by all those soulmate texts and when he asked she just told him it was obvious and offered no further explanation. He’s certain there’s more to it, but he let it go.

Meanwhile the group chat between Jin, Mai, Suki, Toph, and Ty Lee has been almost nothing the past month but referring to both Sokka and Zuko as desperate gay idiots (who are also adorable and oh so loved, but giant desperate gay idiots).

And it turns out, Zuko looks great. Thanks to Suki’s skill as well as her painfully expensive, high quality, highly pigmented eye shadow collection, his left turned out beautifully, as perfect as his right. He’s impressed, to say the least.

This bodes well for the rest of the night, he decides.

He thinks he may actually be going crazy, but he’s not changing his mind.

***

“Zuko! Is that you? My long lost brother? Have you finally returned from war?”

“Toph, don’t be so dramatic. I just saw you like…” He last saw her closing night. Oh. “Oh.”

“Almost two fucking weeks ago, yeah. ‘Oh’ is a fucking understatement.”

“Sorry, I—”

“You know, if you’re going to move in with Sokka, you should probably actually tell Dad and me.”

Sokka nearly chokes on his drink when Toph says that and Zuko is horrified by this reaction and is immediately second guessing all of his life choices.

Toph, however, chuckles at their awkward brief misunderstanding. “What, you got thoughts about that, Boomerang?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve been thinking about that and this probably isn’t the place for this conversation, but is that, you know, something you’d want?”

Sokka is now also second guessing all of his life choices.

Idiots.

“I mean, of course.” Zuko clears his throat and then takes a large swig of his own drink. “I kind of hoped we’d want to plan for that…uh, eventually…”

“Eventually?”

Idiots.

“Yeah, well, I mean, you know…” Zuko himself doesn’t know, but there are real issues like leases and budgeting for rent and the size of Sokka’s current apartment and Zuko’s need for personal space and Suki. Zuko has no problem with it if living with Sokka would mean living with Suki, too, since god knows he basically already does as it stands. He, in fact, assumes Suki would be part of the package. But it hasn’t even been a year yet (how the fuck has it not even been a year yet?) so they surely have to stay where they are for another couple of months, but if they would be willing to find somewhere bigger, to move again that soon, then…

“Suki just fucking assumed it’s going to happen after our lease is up,” Sokka shrugs with a smirk. “I keep reminding her we need to talk about it and honestly I guess we should have started doing that a while ago, but you know. Well. We should talk about that.”

Zuko is no longer questioning any of his more recent life choices, and neither is Sokka.

“Yeah.” Zuko can breathe again. “Later. When we’re home. And sober.”

Toph snickers. “You just called Sokka’s place ‘home,’ did you catch that?”

Zuko does not answer.

He didn’t, but he’s not sorry about it. This could happen at his place, too, and it would still be home. No matter what, the apartment above the Jasmine Dragon will forever be home.

And home is also anywhere Sokka is.

(There is no turning back.)

Toph walks over to Suki without another word. Appa isn’t with her, Sokka notices, instead using her cane to get around.

Appa has never been to his apartment so Sokka thinks it’s an obvious answer, but he does wonder if there would be any issue about Appa if Zuko does move out of his family’s home. Zuko has exclusively, to Sokka’s knowledge, referred to him as Toph’s dog, but Toph consistently insists he’s Zuko’s, too. In all honesty it has occurred to Sokka that Zuko needs him more than Toph does, but Zuko would have a difficult time admitting to that, which Sokka understands.

Sokka, who is wearing his knee brace and has yet to stop feeling anxious as fuck about going out into the world with it, although no one has once bothered him about it. Strangers probably don’t even notice. And it does help. Like, a lot. The nerve and tissue damage are as much problems with the brace as without, but the arthritis pain is eased and that has been such a relief.

Enough so that Sokka feels completely confident in his choice to lovingly embarrass himself and Zuko by selecting Tina Turner’s “(Simply) The Best” for his first song and unapologetically accompanying it with David’s dance to it from Schitt’s Creek, blatantly performing entirely for a laughing and smiling Zuko who stares at the ceiling the whole time but is also visibly overjoyed.

Sokka asked Zuko if he plans to sing and the response was it depends on how drunk he is. He then made fun of him for the fact Mai and Ty Lee have gotten to see him at it and expressed his faux jealousy over feeling left out, and Toph told him she’s also never had this experience but Jin counters with the fact Toph wasn’t old enough to enter a bar the last time Zuko had such a night.

Jin then purchased Zuko another drink, despite his having not yet finished his first, cheering him on by the gesture.

And no one can miss the heart eyes Mai is throwing towards June, the bartender DJ, who looks as much like she could kick all of their asses as Mai had said.

“I want her to step on me,” Mai muttered to Jin when they first sat down, and Jin vehemently seconded the statement.

(And that’s how Zuko learned Mai is a switch, which he would never have predicted.)

“You two are so fucking gross,” Mai says while Sokka sings and dances.

“Oh right, because you were any better with Ty Lee when she first moved here,” Zuko retorts, and he’s not wrong.

Mai had come to Ba Sing Se first, and she’d been harboring a crush on Ty Lee for years. And then Ty Lee got into the elite dance school at UBSS, and Mai had been elated. It was sweet and beautiful and every bit as “gross” as Mai will now playfully taunt Sokka and Zuko for being.

Zuko had been so happy for them. It’s still often hard to believe he now knows how that felt.

He still can’t believe…

His phone goes off. He doesn’t look until Sokka’s finished and distracted by looking for another song to do while Suki jokingly begs him not to.

Katara: OK fine we’ll be there in 15-20

Katara: Don’t do anything stupid

Zuko: Oh I will. Count on it.

Katara: 🙄😭

Katara: ( 🥰💙🥰💙🥰 )

Ty Lee follows, surprising no one by doing an exuberant rendition of “Baby One More Time” and dancing, as well, but doing moves it’s a good thing Katara isn’t here to see. She’s certainly going to receive a talking to from her girlfriends when she’s done, and Zuko will likely jump in on it, but Nurse Katara would be storming the stage.

Teo shows up while Ty Lee’s going and Haru is about five minutes behind him. Teo is thrilled about how easily he was able to enter Kafé Korrasami, a name that screams dive as loudly as the general aesthetic and the prices, but he does bring up the fact it’s a good thing he wasn’t planning on singing anyway because he doesn’t think he’d be able to get onto the stage.

To her credit June, with perfect timing, pops over to their group specifically to apologize for the accessibility failures inside the bar and to let Teo know she will easily be able to accommodate him should he want to participate, and he thanks her for the consideration.

As expected, Mai and Suki do jump on Ty Lee the moment she sits back down, and Zuko goes over to her, too, only to be met by Mai moving what was in her purse to stuff it into Zuko’s pocket, and she eyes the stage to point out that a stranger is now on the microphone so this would be a good time if he is still planning to do what they talked about.

Katara isn’t there yet but Zuko was never going to do anything in front of her or anyone, so he takes Mai’s psychically communicated advice.

“Hey Sokka, wanna step outside with me?”

“You can smoke in here,” Sokka points out, gesturing towards the ashtray on their table, unsure what else Zuko could possibly want to go out for.

“Yeah, I know, but…”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

And he looks it, actually. He looks excited, happy. Sokka will never understand how he can bring that look out in Zuko, but he does and he’ll never get tired of it.

“Okay, yeah.” Sokka stands and so does Zuko. Zuko’s hands are suspiciously buried in pockets which are visibly much fuller than they were when they first came in. Sokka’s interest is undeniably piqued, curiosity laced with confusion and nervous anticipation.

Outside the door Zuko grabs Sokka’s hand, he really only needs the one, and halts to kiss Sokka, like he just has to.

Unfortunately some dickhead dudebro walks by and feels the need to shout at them, “Hey, it’s Adam and Eve—”

“So I did both!” Sokka boisterously interrupts, and Zuko is fucking cackling while the overage bully calls back with a slur but then, thankfully, trudges off in defeat.

Zuko wasn’t going to stop at the front anyway, continuing until they’re in an empty alley where no one will intrude on them.

“So, Zuko…”

Sokka is cut off by Zuko kissing him again, passionately and aggressively, not in a manner usually fit for the outside world. His hand doesn’t leave his pocket, though.

“Okay, babe,” Sokka whispers against Zuko’s lips, turning his head. “What’s going on?”

And then it’s taking everything in Zuko’s power not to start pacing, but he resists.

“So I might be crazy. Or stupid. I don’t know. I don’t fucking know, Sokka, but I do know that every morning I wake up next to you I’m still surprised to see you there, that you’re with me and this is real and I don’t get how or why but you are and it’s amazing, and I know I’m not super great with words and feelings but the thing is, I never have to worry about that with you. I can be myself with you and I wasn’t even fucking sure who that was, I’ve spent my whole life repressing it and I’m not sure when I stopped or when I realized I stopped but I don’t act when I’m around you. I didn’t know I could do that except with Dad and Toph. And it scares the hell out of me, you know, that I can feel so much and be so different and be…allowed. Sometimes I think I’m dreaming, that this can’t possibly be my life.”

Zuko is just tipsy enough that the words don’t stop, and it’s Sokka so he doesn’t censor himself at all, and his speech comes out fast and a little shaky but he has to keep going.

“The first time you told me you love me, it was so hard not to call bullshit. Not because I don’t trust you but just because…because I thought there was no fucking way. I’m still scared you’re going to figure that out and I don’t know what I’d do if you did, but—”

“Zuko. Love. Stop.” Sokka squeezes the hand he’s holding, so tight and it serves as an anchor. “You know that’s exactly how I feel, right? Like it’s just…you are so amazing, so special, and it makes no goddamn sense that someone like you could see anything in someone like me. I didn’t think you were going to say it back. I thought I fucked up so bad, but then you did, and…and nothing has ever been the same, and I never want it to be.”

I couldn’t protect her. I won’t lose you the same way. I promise.

“I have something for you.” Zuko is crushing the poor thing in that pocket. It’s not large and the hoodie is, but he needs to give it to Sokka before he accidentally destroys it. He wishes it was bigger but he couldn’t afford anything more. He hopes it’s good enough, though.

“Sokka, you are special. You are so special. Your mind, your art—you blow me away all the time. You are so smart and creative and talented and fucking gorgeous, how do you not see this?”

He punctuates his question with the passing of the gift.

“You remembered,” Sokka states in awe at the adorable little plush otterpenguin. “I totally forgot about this, but…”

“You remembered Druk.” It’s that easy.

“You know,” Sokka chuckles, “I almost kind of thought for a minute there that you were about to propose.”

“What if I was?”

“Huh?”

“What if I did?”

“Zuko…”

“I told you, I might really be going crazy—crazier?—but…but Sokka, I love you. I love you so much and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that and yeah, Dad’s told me in the past I don’t always think things through and I know it’s fast but I guess we’re also both kind of intense so it just feels…Sokka, I want…”

He reaches into his pocket again. He’s not very happy with this either, again doing the best he could afford. He knows better than to think Sokka would care about that, but logical brain is so rarely steering any given thought process. He worries he’s about to cry, perhaps from his fear of rejection or his feelings of inadequacy, but he doesn’t stop.

“No way.” Sokka’s voice is quiet and uncharacteristically raspy, his eyes wide and Zuko doesn’t know what that means.

There’s an open ring box in his trembling hand, and Sokka stares at it but doesn’t move.

Zuko doesn’t know what to do next. He isn’t sure what’s happening. For the first time in his existence he was fully confident about his life moving in a positive direction and now he needs Sokka to say or do something.

“Sokka?”

Please, please, please, please, please…

“Too much? Too soon? Fuck, Sokka, please…”

Sokka’s hands are on Zuko’s face, Sokka’s lips smashed hard into Zuko’s, sloppy and needy and so fucking confusing.

It’s not an answer, but it seems hopeful, so for the moment he’ll take it.

Chapter Text

Here’s the thing.

Sokka has plans.

Sokka is the plan guy.

He has assigned himself as such ever since his family’s plans went so badly awry back in Seattle all those years ago.

Life gets off track, yes, and he’s been known to be spontaneous and do shit without thinking first, but that’s typically only when the dumpster fire that is his brain is especially raging, and when he has plans he must stick to them.

And he was so sure, he was oh so sure there was absolutely nothing that could get in the way of his plans with Zuko.

Looks like he was very wrong on that count.

Nothing is ruined, just like he has told himself a million times now that nothing can ruin it, but to say this threw him for a loop would be putting it pretty damn lightly.

This was not part of the plan.

So maybe he’s freaking out a little bit but not exactly in a bad way, he just…

He did not expect this.

So he doesn’t speak because his brain has completely short circuited and what are words and how do they work, so slamming his mouth against his boyfriend’s—fiancé’s?—will have to suffice for the moment.

But that’s confusing. Zuko needs an answer, he needs it in words, and the breathlessness Sokka feels against his lips, in the chest pressed so close against his, is not a result of Sokka’s tongue dancing with Zuko’s.

In fact Sokka glances up without easing off and sees that not only are Zuko’s eyes open, they are terrified. He is leaning into this kiss, yes, his free hand on Sokka’s cheek, but the panic rising up in him is visible, tangible. His heart is beating out of his chest and rattling Sokka’s.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Sokka pulls away somehow, eventually.

Zuko swallows, now his eyes shut. Sokka doesn’t know he’s working on this for almost two fucking months, that he’s only had the ring for about two weeks or so but he started looking even before Sokka did. He doesn’t know Zuko practiced this, and that he didn’t retain anything he had wanted to say but he practiced this, repeatedly proposing to Turtleduck to figure out how to do it coherently. He wishes that had worked, but what’s done is done, what’s said is said.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Zuko whispers, and Sokka’s heart sinks. “I know it’s fast but…I thought…I don’t know what I thought, I’ve never done this before, a relationship, at all, and it made sense in my head but if I was wrong…Sokka, fuck, I…”

He’s heading towards a full blown anxiety attack and Sokka knows he would be in this position, too, so he begs his voice to reappear. Everyone always complains he never shuts the fuck up and now he needs to talk and can’t understand what’s behind this silence.

“Oh god, Zuko, no,” he finally manages and then realizes how wrong that came out. “Fuck, wait, I mean…I mean yes, shit, I’m sorry, I…”

Zuko looks surprised, and it hurts knowing he made him feel like that. He blinks a few times before following with, “Y-yes? Like, yes yes?”

“Yes, fuck yes.” Sokka kisses his forehead and takes the box out of Zuko’s hand. “I’m sorry, I… Oh, Zuko, I’m sorry. I just…I didn’t expect this. I thought I was—I had it all worked out. I was going to show you the aurora borealis, and that was going to be my moment. I thought I had a few more weeks to hype myself up, and we’d be under the lights and you’d be looking up at them and then I’d…yeah.”

“I had no idea…”

“That was kind of the point, yeah, making it a big surprise and all.” Sokka laughs but Zuko doesn’t, not registering the attempt at a joke for what it is.

“Zuko. Baby. I’ve had a ring hidden in my room for weeks. I bought it the same morning I adopted Druk. It was kind of a big day.”

Zuko remembers Sokka admitting to him the breakdown he’d had while Zuko was at work, and it’s so much more tragic now. Zuko can’t imagine how earthshaking that would be, the guilt of realizing he had forgotten what day it was after he’d gotten not only a cat—the part Sokka stated when explaining—but also a goddamn engagement ring.

Zuko smiles here, though. His eyes light up again, no longer gravitate towards his shoes.

“Fuck, we’re idiots,” Zuko chuckles.

“Oh god, Suki is going to flip,” Sokka groans. “And call us idiots, too, for sure.”

“Who all knew?”

“I only told Suki, but that probably means at least Ty Lee knows, too.”

“She definitely does, because I told Mai. And Toph. Oh god, we’re never gonna hear the end of this. Katara’s—”

“You told Katara?” Sokka had hinted at what he had intended with Zuko to his sister, too, but it’s even worse if she had been made explicitly aware of what Zuko was going to do before Sokka got his chance.

“Yeah, just today, right before we left the apartment. She said she was on her way a few minutes before we came out here. She’s probably inside by now, fuck.”

“Yeah, we are never going to live this down.”

Zuko shakes his head. But it’s all okay. He can breathe again. “Worth it.”

Sokka then turns his attention back to the box he is now the one holding. “Hey, can I…”

“Please.”

It’s beautiful. It is absolutely fucking beautiful.

“I don’t know why but this one just jumped out at me,” Zuko says as Sokka stares at it, because of course he’s being self-conscious about it and feels like he immediately has to justify his choice. “I know it’s not fancy and it’s a bit…uh, feminine, but hey like, come on, fuck traditional gendering, I wanted it to be able to be a set with a wedding ring, you know?”

The band is thin, silver and gold braided together, and in the middle is a wide almond shaped purple stone.

It is, actually, remarkably similar to the one Sokka got for Zuko, which he now really wishes he had with him.

This is not at all according to plan and Sokka stands by that his plan was perfect, but either way he gets to be with Zuko and that’s the most important part. That makes any possible version of this scenario perfect in its own way.

“I love it, Zuko. It’s gorgeous.”

Zuko takes it back from Sokka so he can do the honor of placing the ring on his finger, both of their eyes watering as he does.

“I’m sorry I ruined your plan, though.”

“Zuko, love, no…” In reality he isn’t over that end of it, but he doesn’t want Zuko worrying about that. Zuko had no way of knowing, and Sokka truly is so fucking happy they wanted the same thing here, and that’s obviously the most important part. He’ll get over his disappointment about it not going the way he imagined, which isn’t actually as much a disappointment as an anxiety whiplash but hey, it will be alright.

“I’m still going to show you the northern lights, if we can,” Sokka tells him, looking to be reassuring. “I guess now we can plan that part of the trip together, too, make it more like a vacation. It’ll still be special, and now I don’t have to worry about going through all that effort just to have you say no.”

“Did you really think there was ever a chance of that?”

“You know… I actually really didn’t.” It’s surreal, it may always be surreal, saying something like that and meaning it. But it’s true.

He runs his thumb along Zuko’s bare left ring finger. “This feels so…empty now. But when we get home, I’ll get yours and return the favor.”

“I can’t wait.”

It’s so tempting just to leave, but they know they can’t yet. They have to share the news first, if nothing else.

And learn about all the bets placed behind their backs and who all won and lost what.

They walk back inside hand in hand to see Mai the music theory major performing a chilling rendition of “Cities in Dust” by Siouxsie and the Banshees, perfectly wrapping her very different voice around the music provided to her. She’s the only one among them who can properly sing, as in with training, although Zuko is impressively a natural and Mai, whose opinion on the subject expectedly carries the most weight, will be the first person to tell him that.

Zuko who is passing some brightly colored highly alcoholic fruity concoction to Sokka and then taking one of his own from June.

Katara rushes over to them as soon as she sees them, and is not at all subtle in her gaze immediately moving to Sokka’s hands.

“Oh my god, you did it!” she shouts over the music and the din of the bar, almost pouncing on Zuko to hug him first. “You nerds really did it! I’m so happy for you!”

“You did!” Suki jumps in behind Katara. “Well, shit, now Ty Lee owes Mai a drink. But Mai still owes me one, too.”

“I owe Ty Lee a drink,” Katara admits.

“What the actual fuck?” Sokka laughs. “Was everyone taking bets?”

“Yes,” Suki answers without hesitation.

Sokka blushes. “Goddamn you all…”

“Okay, so explain.” Zuko has no idea what is in this nearly neon beverage, but he is all about it.

And Suki is ready. “Ty Lee bet Mai that Sokka would propose first but Zuko would buy a ring first. I bet Mai it would be Zuko but that Sokka would already have a ring by the time Zuko did it. She owed me either way since Sokka did buy one first, so now she actually owes me two!”

“I also bet it would be Sokka, but that he wouldn’t do it until after you guys got back from visiting Dad,” Katara follows.

“Well, good to know you still would’ve lost if I had done it first,” Sokka says nervously. “I was going to do it in Alaska. Maybe not at home, I was thinking of taking a detour farther north, to Fairbanks or maybe Coldfoot or Utqiaġvik but…yeah. Sounds like Suki knows us better than, like, anyone. Including us. Not gonna lie, Suk, that’s a little creepy.”

“I try!” she teases, and then takes a purposely loud sip through the straw in her screwdriver.

Sokka actually does have to take a moment to totally calm down after his strict vision for this was undone, though, getting back to their group. He’s happy, genuinely happy, he really is, but his brain is still reeling in a vaguely obsessive hell loop from having his carefully constructed plans torn down, so he tells everyone he needs to “hit the wiz palace” and runs off under the guise of a full bladder before he gives himself away too terribly.

He doesn’t have any idea what he’s doing once he gets in there, just leaning into one of the heavily graffitied walls and trying to count his breaths, mindlessly alternating between picking at the skin on his lips and chewing on the knuckles of his right index and middle fingers.

Haru walks in not long after but thankfully doesn’t say anything, apparently actually having to pee.

And when he heads into a stall to do so, Sokka’s pretty sure he figures out why he keeps his infamously ridiculous hipster mustache everyone often teases him about, that it’s because he can (and in this newfound context, depending on how long he’s been able to start growing it, at least, it’s honestly pretty damn impressive).

His hands clench, and then relax when the glimmer on his left catches his eyes under the glaring fluorescent lights.

It’s okay. It really is. He just has to recalibrate for a minute but he’s definitely never had such a genuinely joyful reason to need to. It feels so counterintuitive but god knows brains do their own things and play by their own rules which so rarely adhere to proper logic.

“Hey man, you okay?”

Sokka nearly jumps when Haru startles him out of his own head, asking on his own journey to the sink.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“You sure?”

“I… It’s hard to explain. But I will be, I promise.” Sokka takes another deep breath. “But hey, uh, can we keep, umm, this just between us? That cool?”

Haru nods and Sokka believes him, and only hangs back another few seconds after Haru heads out to rejoin their friends.

Sokka will talk about this reaction in therapy. Maybe he’ll tell Suki, too. But he doesn’t want to make Zuko feel like shit over it. There’s no need for that.

He’s breathed enough. It’s still back there, but he can push past it enough to not ruin this experience.

And he really does want to get back out there with Zuko. With his fiancé.

In all honesty, too, this does have the benefit of unequivocally bashing all his previous anxieties about him rushing. But Zuko was right about that, they are both way too intense to have ever let this burn slow.

He’s found the person he’s going to grow old with. He’s believed that since almost the beginning. And now even he can’t try to convince himself the feeling isn’t mutual.

Mai is busy flirting with June while Katara and Toph are laughing with Suki, Ty Lee is writing down more songs to sign up for, and Aang is discussing advocacy work with Teo and Haru.

Zuko, meanwhile, is behind the microphone with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other, putting on a painfully sexy performance of “Thinking of You” by A Perfect Circle, a song which also happens to be shamelessly obviously about masturbation, so it’s a safe bet Katara and Toph looking so deep in conversation is also due in part to not wanting to pay too much attention to this. And the way he smiles when Sokka catches his eye, the way he looks at him…

Yeah. Sokka is, despite the minor meltdown, the luckiest man in the entire goddamn world.

***

Thank god Suki drove, Sokka and Zuko drunk and giggly, kissing and cuddling in the backseat of her green Subaru Outback. She teases them about at least trying to keep it in their pants until they get home, but she’s smiling about it. She is ecstatic for them. She adores Zuko and wants to see him happy, but for Sokka—

She knows better than possibly anyone how big this is for him, and if she thinks too long about how gloriously monumental tonight has been for the best friend she’s ever had, her brother by choice, she may actually start crying.

Much like Ty Lee, Suki does not at all believe in soulmates but would accept an argument for Sokka and Zuko. Perhaps they’re an exception.

Something about those two just defies convention.

Zuko can tell Sokka isn’t one hundred percent okay. There is so much about how that man’s mind works Zuko will never understand, but he gets neurodivergence and he can see the wheels turning behind Sokka’s eyes. Sokka likes to be able to control certain situations and it’s hard whenever he builds something up on his own only to have that control taken out of his hands.

But he promises he’ll be fine, and Zuko lets it go. There’s nothing he can do about it now, anyway, as difficult as that is to accept, and Sokka just needs time.

But he did say yes. Despite all of that, he said yes.

“Have fun,” Suki calls after them playfully when they bolt into Sokka’s bedroom.

They crash into bed joined by their arms and lips, gentle and smiling and affectionate.

“Wait, wait, wait, I gotta…I gotta get yours.” Sokka’s still laughing, a quiet little laugh that’s simply the result of pure joy.

Zuko is then laughing at the perfect ridiculousness that is the two of them, at how absurdly alike the rings they chose look.

The band is identical, the stone the same shade of purple. The only difference is there are three of them, and that they’re round and individually far smaller.

It’s fucking gorgeous.

And the fact they had almost the same ideas just makes it all that much better.

Zuko puts his on and they link their left hands together, staring at how well they complement each other and watching the stones reflect the low light of the bedside lamp.

Everything about the two of them together defies all convention.

And they can’t stop laughing, laughing about nothing, but they’re here together and it’s the only thing that matters.

“I think I knew from the moment I first saw you I would love you,” Sokka says softly, and Zuko doesn’t know how to reply other than by kissing him again and again.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known,” Zuko tells him eventually, finds his words at some point. “You are so fucking beautiful and I am going to marry the hell out of you.”

“Only because I get to marry the hell out of you.”

“Nerd.”

“Fuck, I love you.”

“I love you. I love you so much.”

Conversation halts, taken over by touches, sensation silencing, falling entirely into each other’s bodies.

All things considered, this was all in all a goddamn spectacular night.

Chapter Text

They are both intense, just like Zuko said, and that does make their current situation make more sense. Their lives, their traumas, their passions, their emotions—everything about them, and the collision of their intensities should be an explosion waiting to happen but instead it’s somehow a balm.

There is something to knowing they’re not alone, something to the experience of you are everything and you love me so much and so hard I can almost forget for a second what it is I hate about myself.

It’s the undeniability. It’s easier to trust when feelings come on so strong that they must be true. That this isn’t a sick joke. That the other shoe isn’t dropping. That what they say is real and what they feel is real and what they have is real and it’s the best thing in the fucking world.

Every “I love you” is sincere, uncompromising, absolute.

Neither of them have ever been so sure of anything.

And now, home for the night, mostly sober through the passage of the hour or so they’ve been back, both of them with rings on their fingers, and Sokka unable to get the sound and the picture of Zuko singing “Thinking of You” out of his mind (and oh, will he ever be emulating those lyrics to that memory, to Zuko’s voice and lines like “tugging a rhythm to the vision that’s in my head, tugging a beat to the sight of you lying,” many, many times in the future), a little private celebration seems appropriate.

Sokka trails open mouthed kisses up Zuko’s neck, roaming over and up to bite the tip of his right ear in that way Sokka has learned will always make him shiver, and Zuko claws at Sokka’s hips in response, so quickly reduced to a puddle of need and want for anything and everything Sokka can give him.

Zuko’s hands slink beneath Sokka’s shirt, lifting it as he absentmindedly feels him up underneath it.

“You are fucking perfect,” he whispers, and that earns him an abrupt and impossibly fluid removal of his pants by Sokka’s hands, allowing Sokka easier access to so much more of what he wants to touch, and encouraging the rapid progression of where this is heading.

But it’s not fucking fair that Sokka is still fully clothed, even as he wrenches Zuko’s shirt off, Sokka running his nails along Zuko’s torso, pinching his nipples as he kisses his neck and his lips some more.

Sokka dips his head down and lifts Zuko’s hips, and he licks from the rim of his ass all the way up to the head of his cock, and all Zuko can do is keep reaching out and grasping at any part of Sokka he can touch, pulling at his shirt and his pants and desperate just to get him the hell out of them.

Zuko, with great effort, wills himself to sit up and yanks at his fiancé’s top with such force Sokka has no choice but to lift his arms to help him not literally rip it off of him, and then pants and underwear go flying and all they’re left wearing outside of each of their usual ear jewelry is those rings, and there is something so precious about this and it’s so soft and full of love and it only makes them want to tear into each other all that more.

“Beautiful,” Zuko repeats with every breath he can catch. “Beautiful, Sokka, you are so…”

And then he can feel his almost painfully hard cock hit the back of Sokka’s throat, Sokka taking him all in one impressive motion that Zuko could never grow tired of, and Zuko’s head falls back and his hands grip the sheets and his legs tense.

Sokka takes one of Zuko’s hands and places it in his loose hair, encouraging Zuko to pull while his head aggressively bobs up and down, suppressing his gag reflex over and over while Zuko keeps crying out his name.

There is no one in this entire world who is more skilled at the art of the blowjob than Sokka, and Zuko would put down money on that.

“Sokka, oh fuck, your mouth, you—ah, you are amazing, you feel so good, you—fuck, you need to, you need to stop, I, I’m…”

Sokka pops off and wastes no time from there, quickly securing the necessary supplies and eagerly sliding his fingers into Zuko while his other hand holds himself at the base.

Zuko who is already writhing and shouting and completely neglecting to be mindful of the fact that Suki is trying to sleep.

(Suki thought ahead and is blaring Rasputina at full volume through her headphones, and it will be funny later when this comes up in conversation that she couldn’t hear anything anyway but hey, they do also have neighbors to think about.)

Zuko’s one yet functioning brain cell does for a second consider Suki being able to hear them and he puts his fist to his lips and bites down on his thumb, but Sokka pulls it away and kisses him. They probably should be quiet, that is true, but Sokka isn’t going to not have fun with keeping the volume down.

But Sokka takes his lips away to move back to line himself up, and then he presses them to Zuko’s hearing ear as he slides in. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby, how are you even real?”

Zuko whines, unable to keep himself from making noise but doing his best to stay quiet.

Zuko’s hands slap down on Sokka’s thighs, and then at his waist, and then Sokka grabs one of Zuko’s wrists and puts that hand back into his hair, and he shudders and groans when Zuko pulls.

“Harder,” Sokka whispers, and Zuko complies. “That’s right, beautiful, I’m all yours. And you’re all mine.”

“Sokka, I… I want you to…”

Sokka almost stops. Zuko is actually about to ask for something he wants while in the moment, and that doesn’t happen often. More during sex than any other aspect of his life, sure, but most of Zuko’s kinks were figured out organically and with plenty of repetitions of “you like that, don’t you?” thrown in for genuine consent checks masked (and therefore doubling) as dirty talk.

His hips do keep moving, but he could swear he stopped breathing for a second there.

This must be important.

“Yes, love?” he tries to make it sound sexy, but it comes out…affectionate. Not in itself a bad thing, of course, but not exactly right.

Sokka can see Zuko avert his eyes. He closes them for a moment like he’s trying to find his resolve, and then…

“Choke me.”

Well. That one’s nothing new.

He lost it.

Zuko blinks away his mind racing, how he didn’t even think before he spoke and then he almost asked Sokka to pull his hair.

And he honestly does trust Sokka enough to try, but this is not the right way. It would need to be tested separately, and planned for.

Flashbacks are a major bonerkill, he doesn’t need to risk having specifically requested one.

But…wow, that really nearly happened.

And god knows Sokka’s hands around his throat never disappoints, the squeeze and the trust that comes with that, which logically should require more trust than the other thing but…well.

It’s not a lack of trust, though. It’s just a lack of emotional preparation for a matter which would not do well with spontaneity.

He trusts Sokka with all that he is. He loves Sokka so much sometimes it’s all he can think about.

It glimmers as bright as those purple gems that proclaim this for all the world to see.

“Feels good, baby?” Sokka knows something is going on in Zuko’s head he hasn’t been let in on, but what that means is that Zuko can still think straight enough to be able to get lost in his head, and that is not okay. So Sokka speeds up, he moves back to kissing until they can’t breathe.

And Zuko falls into it, he falls apart under each and every one of Sokka’s heavy thrusts, and Sokka’s voice is rough when he tells him, “Mm, good boy.”

Zuko just mumbles “gorgeous” and “perfect” and “so good” and “Sokka” over and over, officially devoid of all comprehension of anything that isn’t Sokka and how amazing he feels inside him.

And Sokka just can’t stop kissing him, taking in every incredible little sound, but not even close to absorbing it all when Zuko comes screaming.

“That’s right, baby,” Sokka whispers. “Fuck, you sound so good. I’m close, too.”

“Come on my face.”

Sokka almost blows right then, but he has just enough control to pull out and do as Zuko said.

Zuko licks up what landed on his lips and then runs a finger across one of his come-streaked cheeks and puts into his mouth, and Sokka can’t believe how fucking hot he looks like this.

“Shower,” Sokka says and Zuko doesn’t want to move, but they were both sweaty from the crowded bar already, so with the mess they’ve made here it really isn’t up for negotiation.

They go together and make it quick, neither of them bothering with washing their hair, but while they’re rinsing off—under water that’s not too cold for Sokka but not warm enough to hurt Zuko—Sokka’s curiosity gets the best of him.

“You weren’t actually thinking of asking me to choke you, were you?”

“No,” Zuko admits quietly, and then Sokka hugs him so tight when he tells him what he really was thinking about that he accidentally slams them into the wall, his own back hitting it hard, with the sheer force of how hard he grabs him.

“I wouldn’t have done it anyway, you know,” Sokka tells him, holding him close. “Not spur of the moment like that. But if it’s something you still think you want to try later, we can talk about it.”

And this is exactly why Zuko could ever even dare to entertain that thought with Sokka, this is why Sokka could have any chance of being the only person in the world who might be able to touch Zuko’s hair that way without instantly transporting Zuko’s brain back to being a thirteen year old held over a fire by it.

And Sokka is so fucking taken aback by the importance of this, and how safe that means Zuko feels with him. Even if Zuko can’t go through with it, Sokka is so fucking blown away by him even thinking about it. That alone means the world.

They both feel so fucking fortunate.

They have so much to celebrate.

It’s time for another party.

***

Sokka and Zuko are the center of attention and it’s…not great, even under the circumstances, but it’s not the worst thing.

It makes sense, anyway. And it’s one hundred percent worth it.

They keep close together, using the other to drown out the rest when it starts to feel like too much. Everything feels so much but for once, that’s good.

There’s a collection of empty Angry Orchard and Mike’s Hard and Lionshead bottles all around them, and Mai has assigned herself as bartender for the evening (when asked if this is because she’s been hanging out with June outside of the bar, she neglects to answer, but Suki and Ty Lee’s laughter is all the confirmation they need). She’s happily passing around effortlessly made hard liquor mixes in varying degrees of sweetness, and Toph is already absolutely shitfaced, joined by an equally far-gone Song on the couch, and next to her is Suki’s coworker Rivkah, who is teetering on the edge and going back and forth between rambling about her now infamous cat and shouting about having to fist fight God.

It’s all kind of nice in a way, especially considering Toph most assuredly would otherwise be first in line to make fun of Zuko for half-drunkenly sitting in Sokka’s lap and swaying and singing along to the continuing additions to Suki’s Friendship Party Playlist.

(Zuko and Rivkah will most definitely have to talk more later, though, to bond over their mutual excessive feline affection and their shared belief that if there is any higher power out there, they very much deserve to be punched in the face.)

“‘How do you do it? You make me feel this way. How do you do it? All these games we play. How do you do it? How can you say the things you say?’”

Not the most accurate song in a lot of ways, but the parts that hit really hit, and Zuko emphasizes those parts so well.

No one else is going to tease them about it, and in reality no one’s sure if Toph would, either. Maybe she’d bring it up later on if she was paying any attention to them right now, but there is nothing but love and affection and gratitude in this apartment.

While Mai is busy controlling the kitchen counter, Suki and Ty Lee are slow dancing together by the refrigerator. Lily from the dance troupe, as well as from both Suki and Aang’s favorite local band, is circling them. Aang has taken his cue from them and is making Katara join him in increasingly more elaborate and difficult dances that will make much more sense whenever something more fast paced comes on, and they’re taking up the majority of the living room with their wild movements from which Jin and Haru cannot look away. This time Haru also has his laptop with him, open with Teo on Discord video chat, and Haru occasionally gets up and walks it around so Teo can be a part of everything.

“‘I don’t think you know that I believe in you. I don’t think you understand how much I love you still.’”

Zuko truly does have a beautiful voice, and Sokka only just found this out but he already can’t get enough of hearing it directed at him.

“‘I don’t think you know that I believe in you.’”

As time passes Zuko seems less and less aware of the crowd around them, only looking at Sokka. And no one can get mad, after all they are here to honor the “Zukka ship sailing,” as Suki and Toph won’t fucking stop repeating to everyone.

And all Sokka can do is plant light kisses along the joint of Zuko’s neck and shoulder, and nobody cringes, not even jokingly. It’s just sweet, and it’s so fucking sincere, so they are all going to simply let them have this.

“‘But I see a firefly swimming in the air tonight like bright confetti dancing in my mind.’”

Sokka is barely tipsy, too absorbed in Zuko and even the joy of everyone who’s come over just because they are so happy for them. But that means Zuko is notably deeper under the influence, which is made fairly obvious by the disappearance of his filter for holding back parts of himself he should never have to. And Zuko wanted the filter off, wanted to be able to allow himself to throw all the fucks he has to give out the window. He promised he wouldn’t go too hard, the memory of the last time they did something like this being one that will never leave anyone who was present that evening, but it’s nice to just be able to enjoy himself.

This is just so nice.

Hakoda and Noriko had both been informed this party would be happening so not to expect any replies to texts. Because of course, Hakoda and Noriko have each been oh so excitedly constantly texting not only their sons but also both of their soon-to-be sons-in-law ever since the news broke.

(Hakoda and Bato cheered, and Hakoda visibly teared up. Iroh as well as Noriko cried. Ikem and Kiyi applauded.)

Hakoda also couldn’t help laughing about the fact that Sokka beat Katara. She and Aang have been together for years, since Katara was twenty and Aang was eighteen and the fact they’ve lasted so well past those awkward developing years is telling, and Hakoda calls Aang his future son-in-law as much as he’ll now have to do for Zuko, and Sokka has referred to him as his future brother-in-law for ages, but they’ve yet to make it official and Sokka and Zuko beat them to the punch.

But the funniest part is that Hakoda and Bato reasonably should have been surprised, even if going off of nothing other than the lengths of the relationships. However, when it came down to it, they weren’t. Not in the slightest.

And neither Sokka nor Zuko can explain how oddly thrilling that was to hear, but they sure as hell felt it.

“‘I spiral into circles, and all of this is for you. So tell me how to find you now, and tell me what to do.’”

Zuko presses a soft kiss to the top of Sokka’s head as the song ends, and once again no one says anything snarky, or anything at all.

And then the end credits song from the first Borderlands starts blaring and Zuko stops singing but the dancing all around them intensifies, and Lily actually knows the song just for the song and is very loudly singing along while Haru is scurrying around to move anything and everything that could possibly be broken by Katara and Aang out of the way now that the music is vastly more energetic.

At some point Suki is shouting that yes, they all know Aang can do the back flip he wants to do, but this is an apartment with limited space and “can” does by no means equal should.

Suki then shouts something about the size of the venue Sokka and Zuko are going to require for their wedding just to accommodate this, but neither of them are paying any attention.

That’s not worth worrying about right now, anyway. They’ll get to it when they get to it. For now, the joy is in the promise. They don’t need to focus on the details yet, they just need to be together and commemorate the choices they’ve made.

They chose not to run from each other, and they chose to definitively symbolize their durability. For the time being, they don’t need anything more.

Mai jumps on the kitchen table and calls for everyone’s attention, declaring she has finally perfected the drink of the evening: the Zukka.

And even the pair it’s named for look up when she says that, and both of them just giggle.

It’s a mix of strawberry schnapps, blue curaçao, tequila, dragonberry rum, lemon-lime soda, and a bit of food coloring to nail down the hue, producing a shade that matches that purple exquisitely. She’s added more than a few hefty sprinkles of silver and gold edible glitter to the large pitcher she’s made it in, too, to really drive the point home.

As soon as Mai hops back down to the floor, people start lining up to try it, and Teo yells out, “Hey! Mai! Tell June to start making that at Korrasami for me! I wanna try it, too!”

Mai laughs, and everyone knows she will.

(The Zukka will, indeed, go so far as to become the Kafé Korrasami karaoke night special from next week onward. Sokka and Zuko will both pretend to be embarrassed by it, and there will be a dash of truth to that, but neither will be able to stop smiling any time they see it.)

Zuko has since moved off of Sokka’s lap and is leaning into the kitchen window with his cigarettes, occasionally arguing with Sokka about which one of them should be allowed to sit in the chair and which one of them should have to stand, until Jin trudges over and pulls out another chair from the table to position next to the one they had both been sitting in not long before, rolling her eyes but clearly amused.

Mai then brings them each a glass of the Zukka, and oh wow, that’s good, and this is the first time anyone here has ever seen Zuko be such a happy drunk and it’s delightful.

Sokka puts his feet in Zuko’s lap (he’s wearing the sequined Chucks and has received many compliments on them, and after every one he sticks his tongue out at Suki) and leans back, getting hit much harder by this drink, which does not taste nearly as alcoholic as it is.

Zuko’s almost done with his when the song again changes to one that gets the mood on his level, and he’s no longer singing softly but moves into full on belting.

“‘I’ve become impossible, holding on to when, when everything seemed to matter more. The two of us, all used and beaten up, watching fate as it flows down the path we have chosen.’”

Zuko’s arms are all over the place and he’s as animated as anyone has ever seen him, and not wanting to be the center of attention is clearly no longer an issue to him at all. He sings along so loud and is so full of love and full of life, and it helps that he sounds fantastic. He’s putting on quite the show, and it will be well worth any noise complaints they may get.

Sokka is relaxed and enamored, looking at Zuko like he’s the only person present, the same as how Zuko is looking at him.

No one is looking at anything else anymore.

For the first time in Zuko’s entire life, all of his walls are down in front of people. Not just Sokka or Toph or Iroh, but a whole group of people.

This is unprecedented. This is unheard of.

This is glorious.

“‘You and me, we’re in this together now, none of them can stop us now, we will make it through somehow. You and me, if the world should break in two, until the very end of me, until the very end of you.’”

“Look at them,” Suki says with a smile. She’s not even directly speaking to anyone in particular. She is just looking at them and her heart is filled with such joy the comment is involuntary.

Rivkah is the one who answers. This is her first time meeting anyone besides Suki, and between alcohol and general preoccupation, saying she’s actually met nearly anyone is a bit of a stretch, but she understands. There’s a reason out of their entire office, Rivkah is the sole person Suki has developed a friendship with.

“So, there’s this word in Yiddish, ‘bashert,’ that translates to ‘destiny’ but it doesn’t mean, like, a generic destiny.” She might be three sheets to the wind but even she can collect coherent thoughts for this. “It’s about predestiny, and it’s about love. Like, it’s meant specifically in reference to love. If you ask me there’s no such thing as soulmates, but that’s more along the lines of what bashert is referring to and…I see it now. I’ve always thought it was a really beautiful word but I never imagined I’d meet anyone I could really apply it to. That’s it right there, though. They’ve both found each other’s bashert. Genuine divine intervention or not, it doesn’t matter at the end of the day. I prefer to believe you’re free to choose your own destiny. So maybe you can choose your soulmate, too. And they clearly both made a damn good choice.”

“‘The farther I fall, I’m beside you. As lost as I get, I will find you. The deeper the wound, I’m inside you. Forever and ever I’m a part of—you and me, we’re in this together now.’”

Suki doesn’t tell Rivkah anything about how significant all of this is. Toph is the only person anyone speaks freely about, because she has a difficult time talking about her tragic backstory but doesn’t actually mind anyone else doing it for her, and a part of her almost wants everyone to know how terrible her rich and famous birth parents are so it feels easier on her to just give out blanket permission to the people she has shared with. But no one else has given the okay to talk about them like that, so Suki keeps her thoughts to herself.

But she will never get over this. Knowing Sokka and Zuko separately for years, she is so grateful the world brought them to the same place at the same time, that it offered them this kindness they both so deserve.

“I really hope this doesn’t come off as rude, but you seem pretty legit spiritual for someone who’s been telling God to meet you in the fucking pit all night,” is the reply Suki decides on.

“Ha!” Rivkah is not at all offended, but legitimately entertained and excited to explain. “Believe me, those two are not mutually exclusive. And besides, I don’t believe in, like, the Big Man in the Sky, you know. I will sure as fuck be fighting something, bet, but it’s also like…I see God in everything. God isn’t just some omnipotent being, and they don’t control us or anything, but they also exist everywhere, if that makes any sense. They’re energy. They’re emotion. They’re a moment. And I don’t ever want to project my beliefs on anyone else so maybe don’t say anything if either of them are uncomfortable with it, but I see God in those two. In what they’re building. In the stories I don’t know about the sadness in their eyes that’s nowhere to be found right now. It’s everything that’s beautiful and perfect in this universe. And that’s what we’re looking at right now.”

“‘When all our hope is gone, we have to hold on. All that we were is gone, but we can hold on.’”

“That’s…incredible,” Suki whispers. “Never say that to Sokka, for sure, but…thank you for telling me. That’s beautiful.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Rivkah replies happily. “This has been great. I hope I can get to know everyone better sometime.”

“I’d like that, too.”

“‘You and me, we’re in this together now. None of them can stop us now. We will make it through somehow. You and me, even after everything, you’re the queen and I’m the king. Nothing else means anything.’”

Sokka and Zuko and this family and all the love between them means everything.

Chapter Text

It still doesn’t make any sense how little time it’s been. It’s any longer impossible to believe that just a year ago, they had never met.

But yes, some-fucking-how it hasn’t been quite a whole year of their relationship yet, and there’s been one major landmark Sokka has until now had left to meet: the anniversary of the scar.

It is, needless to say, never a good day.

Sometimes Zuko almost wonders if it should be, that most important turning point in his life. It’s the reason he has anything good now, after all. But it’s…a lot.

And he despises framing arguably the worst thing he’s ever had to endure as the best at the same time. It makes it feel like Ozai is also responsible for what happiness Zuko has found. Ozai never wanted any of that for him, but in a way he did lead him towards this path. In trying to destroy Zuko, Ozai handed him the keys to his future. Nearly killing him and disowning him was the best thing Ozai could have done for his life.

He will never be able to reconcile that.

It’s the day that marked Zuko forever, both physically and emotionally, both outside and in.

And the miserable headache he’s been trying to get rid of is a nice reminder of all of the consequences of that.

It’s not a full on migraine, it could be so much worse, but it still stands that this is what’s been done to him, and that it was fourteen years ago today.

He shuts down every year. Another part of Zuko that Iroh and Toph are accustomed to, but is new to Sokka.

He always hurts himself on this date, too. Always. But he is trying so hard not to now, to not do that to Sokka. He can’t stop himself for himself, but he doesn’t want to make Sokka sad.

It’s mid-afternoon and he hasn’t spoken a single goddamn word all day. Sokka has been fairly busy with stuff for Ty Lee, particularly with constructing a giant volcano set piece he is positive he can rig to go off like a school science fair project without making a mess of the stage (Bumi fully approves, even if no one else does), but he’s still noticed.

He assumes it has something to do with the fucking vicious nightmares Zuko had last night, but beyond that he has no idea. Zuko didn’t tell him anything.

Zuko knows he should have, but he didn’t tell Sokka anything.

Sokka is piecing together strands of flexible metal and dull metal scraps, constantly referencing the measurements he has written down of Ty Lee’s head, to harmlessly mimic the appearance of concertina wire for a crown as part of one of the costumes, when he gets a text he doesn’t know what to make of, around the same time he hears the shower turn on.

Toph: Hey. Zuko isn’t responding to me. How is he holding up?

Sokka: Good question. He hasn’t talked to me at all today so probably not well? He just hopped in the shower so I doubt I’m getting anything for a while anyway, but not gonna lie I’m kind of worried. I have no idea what’s wrong, though.

His phone doesn’t go off again for a good few minutes, and he just sighs when it does.

Toph: Of course you don’t.

Toph: I’m coming over.

It isn’t a request. It’s not a suggestion.

He doesn’t even bother to respond.

“Well, fuck,” Sokka murmurs to himself, and for as desperately as he now needs to keep himself preoccupied, he stops what he’s doing because all ability to concentrate instantly disappears.

Zuko doesn’t understand why he didn’t tell Sokka. He has no reason not to have.

Sure, he’s been non-verbal all day, but there is no fucking excuse for not giving Sokka some warning ahead of time. He one hundred percent should have given Sokka some warning ahead of time.

He’s being unnecessarily difficult. Again. Even after Sokka agreed to spend the rest of his fucking life with him, he still can’t let this be easy.

The last time he tried to kill himself was on the anniversary. Toph had yelled at him while crying hysterically, that doing that today of all days would just be letting Ozai win. She was scrambling, and Zuko doesn’t even disagree—like, at all—but he was so angry she’d had the nerve to say it that he didn’t talk to her for almost a week.

He isn’t killing himself today. He can’t.

He has…a lot to live for. He does now, but he also has for many years.

And killing himself here is completely out of the question, full stop. Sokka will not find him that way. He doesn’t wish that upon Suki either, but Sokka will not.

But here Zuko is in Sokka and Suki’s shower, a blade from a cracked open cheap disposable razor pressed vertically to his wrist. He doesn’t remember getting in the shower. He doesn’t remember picking up the razor. Most of his fingers are scraped and bleeding, though, so it is the most reasonable assumption that he was the one who freed it from its plastic safety casing (as though there was any other possibility).

It’s the scars on his arms that bother Sokka. Zuko is so used to the looks at his face he almost forgets that he has others, and it’s ridiculous to him that he has any that anyone could care about more. Sure, Zuko always, always wears long sleeves at work to avoid what unwanted commentary he can, and he learned the hard way that this can be necessary, but for the most part, to most people, those are pretty damn easy not to see.

But somehow Sokka doesn’t even seem to see the scar on his face anymore; he knows it has a tragic story and it’s sad to him that Zuko had to go through what he did in getting it, but he literally views it as simply a part of Zuko, not a disfigurement. That’s nice, honestly.

But the way Sokka looks at his other scars, the smaller ones which Zuko doesn’t see as nearly as big of a deal but which constantly capture Sokka’s attention…

They don’t talk about it, but Sokka knows now that he hasn’t always stopped at the cuts and the burns. That’s been made very clear, even without there being an explicit conversation on the topic.

Not that anyone would be shocked. Suki sure as hell wasn’t.

Telling Suki with Sokka having overheard is the closest they’ve come.

They don’t talk about it, and Zuko likes to think they never need to, but he also wouldn’t really know how to. He knows how Iroh and Toph responded to it, and he can imagine the look that would be on Sokka’s face if he learned the details.

There’s been a few attempts, in varying degrees of seriousness. He can admit a couple were spur of the moment overreactions, or if not overreactions then still spontaneous and not necessarily inauthentic but certainly not as desperate as others. But there was one that…

There was one that was a product of the most intent and conviction Zuko has ever expressed in his entire goddamn life. The one that even years later, even with all the joy he’s found with Sokka and his beautiful family and friends, still fucking hurts.

Not even to mention the stint at Yangchen Memorial that followed. That might have been the worst part of it all. It definitely was the worst part of his earlier attempts, and a fear of ever having to go back there has been a prime motivator in not trying again more recently, as much if not more than the fear of failure of the attempted suicide itself.

It sounds so fucking edgy to say, but this is one instance wherein, truly, no one understands. It’s not treatment, it’s punishment. It’s also not some god awful ableist horror movie trope, but it’s probably closer to that end of the spectrum than it is to “help.”

He doesn’t remember much of the last time. He was there for three days, and he only knows that because he signed himself out AMA after the mandatory seventy-two hour wait period. He got himself the fuck out of there literally as soon as he legally could. But that’s about all he has from that experience. He dissociated his way through the rest of it. He has all of one hazy recollection, of trying to calmly explain to one of the milieu therapists why he didn’t feel like he could attend group therapy. He was too fragile with his own shit and he couldn’t handle taking in everyone else’s around him, but he made it clear he was still willing to do individual therapy and he felt that was reasonable. But they only threatened to take away his legal right to leave on his own terms if he didn’t comply, so he went. He doesn’t remember anything about the session itself. That one interaction is the only thing he recalls and even that hardly feels like a real memory but more like a dream. In hindsight, he wonders if they could have upheld that threat, if it was actually in their power to jeopardize his plans as they said they would, but he knows he didn’t want to risk it. He couldn’t. He just needed out.

There were also the times they just treated him like a child, flatout told him he was stupid and immature and accused him of only trying to kill himself for attention. There was the one time with a group therapy session where the therapist leading it went out of her way to deliberately trigger every single person on the unit and then didn’t understand why it had to end because suddenly everyone was screaming and crying and panicking. He recalls hearing someone in his unit shouting, “Next time I’m going to make sure I die so I never have to come back here.”

Unfortunately, that didn’t go quite so well for him later on, since that was not his final try and he did go back there.

And it was the last try in particular he can’t get over no matter what he does.

It’s been long enough that he doesn’t understand why it still haunts him, but…

Trauma comes in all shapes and sizes, and its rules are strict and inflexible but at the same time ever changing, and rarely is it comprehensible.

“I can’t go through that again.” Zuko can hear Sokka repeat that in his mind all the time. He doesn’t ever want him to. He doesn’t want to hurt him like that. Even at his lowest when he is certain that removing himself from his loved ones’ lives is a favor, he knows it would hurt them. And he knows it would hurt Sokka, and for as thoroughly as he believes with his whole heart that Sokka would be better off without him, he also knows Sokka truly might never come back from having a second partner choose to leave this world like that.

(But he has to remember, after Sokka heard that talk with Suki, that’s when he told him he wanted to take him to Alaska. And now, they are about to leave for Alaska. Because Sokka loves Zuko. He loves him that much. Even before they wore their rings, Sokka wanted to show Zuko his home, and that was when that conversation started. That should mean something, Zuko tells himself. That matters. That context matters.)

When Zuko woke up for the final time between last night and this morning, well before the sun was even out, he at least didn’t make Sokka wake up again, too. No, Sokka was asleep, snuggled up beside Zuko with his head nuzzled against Zuko’s neck, while Zuko laid on his back wide awake and stared at the ceiling. He didn’t want to get up, though, with Sokka looking so comfortable. But when Sokka finally did roll over, Zuko realized he couldn’t stay there any longer. He was too restless and too in his own head. He wasn’t thinking straight, bleary from sleep deprivation and sheer desolation, so he left to make a run to the nearest twenty-four hour convenience store. He bought literally every pack of his cigarettes they had. And then too sore to walk more he Ubered back, with neither Sokka nor Suki any the wiser.

(He got major autistic vibes off of the cashier, too, who wasn’t fazed when he went to the counter and simply held up the pack he already had in order to tell her what he wanted, and then just aggressively nodded when she asked how many. She smiled and she must have understood, so at least that was one less thing to stress about.)

He spent most of the morning chain smoking in the kitchen from there. He made coffee for everyone, and when Sokka came out and wished him good morning, he opened his mouth to say it back but nothing came out.

He thinks about how he wasn’t allowed to lock the door to his bedroom for a year after his most recent attempt. He was too existentially exhausted to argue. It’s why Iroh and Toph still lose their shit if he’s not responding to either of them knocking and his door is locked. But he hasn’t done anything. He can’t.

That last time, Toph broke into his room to find him, and apparently Appa had been damn near trying to break the door down. He doesn’t remember this. He can only imagine what that did to Iroh, having to sit by his hospital bed for days once again. It took three before he was moved to the psychiatric unit. Three days he has no account of. He has no idea what happened in that time, if he was conscious or medicated into oblivion or just out of his mind, or what. After all the Ambien (which never did anything for him otherwise) and Ativan he’d taken, and after all the whiskey he’d taken them with, any answer seems possible. No one talks about it. He doesn’t ask.

Toph once mentioned he started screaming bloody murder and threatening further self-harm when they told him he’d be admitted for inpatient. He doesn’t doubt her, but he can’t confirm.

(In retrospect, he regrets doing that at home. He regrets making it so Iroh or Toph would be the ones who’d have found his body had it worked. And for that matter, maybe it would have worked if they hadn’t been there to find him early enough.)

It had been the time before that one in Yangchen where the psychiatrist told him he was literally the most textbook case of borderline personality disorder he had ever seen. That’s about the only thing he remembers from that stay, too, aside from his roommate who was undergoing ECT and the way the staff would look at Zuko as if silently telling him to try it, too. They never said it out loud, but even for someone as bad at reading subtext and social cues as Zuko can be, he could hear it in their faces. And that was probably the best hospitalization out of all of them.

The first time he had to go, not long after Iroh took him in, everyone made fun of him for spending Halloween there. Even in the fucking psych ward he got pegged as and bullied for being the weird goth kid, and by the staff as much as his fellow inmates. At least they left him alone about his scar, though. Well, the other kids did, anyway.

The floor psychiatrist tried to rationalize what might have made his “father” (he didn’t feel safe naming Ozai, but he still wished this asshole would have cared whenever he explained that is not who Ozai is to Zuko; he could have at least had the decency to make the simple, and legally accurate, amendment to “birth father” instead) feel the need to do that to him. He also tried to rationalize why Azula so often emotionally and physically hurt him, too, saying Zuko was the common denominator. He tried to get Zuko to talk about his mom, and Zuko shut down on that real quick. Because whoever gave this man a license to practice should be fucking drawn and quartered. He wanted everything to be Zuko’s fault, almost as much as Ozai and Azula had.

By the end of that stay, Zuko actually missed living with them; it was, until so very recently to then, all he’d ever known, and the psychiatrist had him so sure it was where he belonged after all. He berated the hell out of Zuko, and then punished his non-compliance. He was still a child, he was barely even a teenager, and they kept him there for weeks. He never told Iroh how bad it was. He just sobbed and sobbed for hours when he got home, and lashed out without explanation when Iroh didn’t hit him for it.

But it never would have been up to Iroh whether or not he had to return after trying to take his life again in the future. It was mandatory, whether Zuko or Iroh liked it or not.

But Iroh only wanted him to get better, and he was so lost on how to help him, himself, especially when it reached that point. So he just hoped it would help. And then they didn’t talk about how much it didn’t.

Of his five inpatient stays, that first time was probably the worst. It’s impossible to be sure with his all but total lack of recollection of the last, but that verdict feels right.

That last stay after that last attempt which, it just now occurs to him, was exactly five years ago. Five years is generally thought of as a landmark anniversary. Maybe that’s why he’s this fucked up about it, when it doesn’t always hit him quite this hard.

That, and Sokka. Perhaps it hurts more now that he has so much more to lose if the demons get the best of him. Perhaps it hurts more now that there is someone out there who can’t lose him. Now that he has someone who—

“I can’t go through that again.”

But the blade remains at his wrist. He cannot put it down. He cannot move at all.

When Sokka buzzes Toph into the building, it’s a mystery to him how long it took her to get here.

When Toph walks into the apartment, she is expecting to be overwhelmed by Nine Inch Nails carrying from the bathroom at ear splitting volume. Instead she is greeted with silence save for Druk’s bell, Sokka’s slightly off balance pacing, and the din of the shower itself.

That’s worse. This is much worse.

She doesn’t even say hello, instead walking in shouting, “How fucking long does the hot water in this place last?”

“A surprisingly long time, actually,” Sokka shrugs. “But Zuko doesn’t usually take very hot showers anyway, since, you know—”

“Yes, I do know, but he does when he’s like this,” Toph answers curtly, and Sokka tries to remember she’s just worried and not to take her tone personally.

He doesn’t even have to question what she just said. Zuko would do that, yeah. It’s another form of self-harm. That makes sense.

“The last thing that motherfucker needs is another goddamn concussion,” Toph grumbles, and Sokka notices her hands are shaking.

Because Zuko potentially passing out and hitting his head isn’t the only thing she’s concerned about. Sokka doesn’t have to question that, either.

Druk starts hissing, puffed up and arching his back, and it’s only then that Sokka notices Appa’s there.

He isn’t mad Toph brought him without saying anything about it first, because he assumes she wouldn’t have done that unless she believed it truly necessary.

And how Appa pointedly ignores Druk and goes straight to the bathroom door…

Yeah, the “whose dog is he really” conversation just got re-coded in Sokka’s mind from A Possibly Good Idea to Fucking Mandatory.

Zuko is, in fact, only sitting down in the tub because he fell. He did not faint this time, but it got close and his knees gave out as an alternative, so his body didn’t give him the chance to keep on testing it.

(And what a fantastic fucking time to be so thoroughly reminded of what all that abuse did to his body, to his health. Even if he brought this particular instance on himself, running his shower at such a high temperature as though he doesn’t know better. But he shouldn’t have to know better, dammit. How much of his life was stolen, mundane things like driving and walking more than a few blocks at a time and even safely showering consistently, normal everyday occurrences for most that he can never have. What a fantastic fucking time to be so thoroughly reminded that Ozai permanently disabled him, that he will forever have to factor in all the failings of a body he wasn’t born with and was not given to him by chance but was created by cruelty and hate, this body he does not want and that the only way out of is death.)

The shower is finally losing heat, but Zuko remains where he is, breathless and still.

He didn’t position himself in any given way on purpose, but he’s ended up sitting with his feet over the drain and the water pools around him, and he suddenly registers the sight of blood dripping in front of him, the red dots that spiral as they fall, and he isn’t inside his body at all, he has no control and he doesn’t remember it even a little, but he can figure out what he’s done.

Fuck. No. Oh no, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t supposed to, I didn’t mean to, I—

And that’s when the screaming starts.

The first vocalizations Zuko has made all day and it’s blood curdling wailing, reverberating throughout the entire apartment and scaring the hell out of Sokka and Toph.

The cut is long but it isn’t deep, no significant physical damage is done and it won’t require a hospital visit, as is the case most of the time he does something like this, but it scares him that he did that without being present for it. It’s not the first time, god knows, and that’s why he told Sokka he can’t ever promise he’ll stop hurting himself no matter his intentions and how much he might want to, but it never stops scaring him. And with today being today, and with his having been so fixated on suicide and his institutionalizations, he is abnormally horrified.

And the howling all around him sort of sounds to him like his voice, but he can hardly recognize it. It’s so distant and he can’t feel himself shouting but he thinks it must be him.

And then the shower is off and there is a towel held tight around his wrist, and it is Sokka who’s holding it, and it is Sokka whose panicked breaths are forcing Zuko to return to this time and place amidst the real world.

He never wanted Sokka to see him any worse than he did the night of that first party, of their first fight. It was regrettable enough that happened, but this is…

Sokka, why didn’t you run?

You still could. You should.

This isn’t right. This isn’t fair. You don’t deserve this.

You deserve so much better.

Zuko isn’t screaming anymore.

No, now he’s crying.

He’s really crying. Hard, the hardest he’s cried in years and years. His broad shoulders shake, his head hangs in disgrace.

He can’t look at Sokka. He can’t look away from Sokka.

Sokka’s lips are red from where he’s been picking at them and breaking skin. Sokka’s knuckles are red from where he’s been chewing on them and breaking skin.

Zuko can’t look away. He won’t.

He wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what. What can he say? Sokka’s eyes are wide and red, his breath is heavy and rapid. And Zuko did this. This is Zuko’s fault. And Sokka doesn’t even know why.

They’ve been through several anniversaries with one another now. Sokka had that breakdown on Yue’s, and he gets quiet and borderline reclusive on Kya’s. That one had also involved a private dinner with Katara, without Zuko or Aang, and Sokka was silent after he came home. The Jasmine Dragon closes every year for Lu Ten’s, and Iroh takes Zuko out to the countryside and they simply sit together beneath the young tree Iroh had his ashes planted with. Sokka didn’t go to that. Toph doesn’t even come to that.

At least this year Zuko didn’t have to mourn the date of his mother’s disappearance.

But Sokka can get through Yue’s and Kya’s death dates without pulling shit like this. Iroh can manage to peacefully go through the yearly reminder of the loss of his first beloved son, and he trained himself long ago to mourn his wife who died in childbirth on the inside only, in order to be present as a single father. Katara is a more obvious mess about Kya, she doesn’t internalize it and repress it like Sokka, yet she can control herself. Aang never knew his birth parents and then he lost his adoptive father to a senseless murder when he was young and yes, he still gets angry about it, but he doesn’t do this. Toph pretends not to care when she’s reminded of her bioparents and that’s not healthy, either, but she’s in much better check about it all the same. Mai’s parents were emotionally abusive. Ty Lee’s family was smothering and had strict expectations of her that performing was never a part of, and Zuko knows best how much her illness brings her down. Suki had a shitty father before her mom found her step-mother and he left the picture. Teo lost his mom when he was too young to remember her, in the same accident that paralyzed him. And while Katara is the only person who actually knows what happened, Haru and his mother were both pretty traumatized by his dad spending time in prison for a crime he didn’t commit, and everyone knows he went through something. All of them have their tragedies. Zuko’s not special.

And right now, Zuko suspects Sokka may well be viewing him as yet another in his own life.

“Hold this, okay?” Sokka tells Zuko, not doing much to pull him out of his continued dissociative trance, but he does as Sokka asks and takes over for the pressing of the towel.

He is vaguely more aware of what’s going on but it is as though he’s watching it unfold in third person. Like it’s a movie. Not like it’s real.

But he is more aware, so. That’s a start, at least.

Sokka and Suki have an extensive first aid kit underneath the bathroom sink. Katara put it there, and it’s well stocked, especially considering how rarely it’s used. So items like sterile saline solution and gauze and medical tape are readily available, and that’s what Sokka is doing. He is fishing out supplies to attend to Zuko’s fresh cut.

This is not Sokka’s responsibility. This should not have to be Sokka’s responsibility.

“Thank god,” Sokka whispers as he methodically cleans and dresses the wound. “It’s pretty superficial. Nothing to worry about. Uh, sort of, I guess. Not that I’m not worried. Like, that I don’t care. I mean… Zuko, babe, I…”

Sokka’s crying, too. This is wrong, this is so fucking wrong. And all Zuko can do is sob, and he notices his hair is soaking Sokka’s shirt at the shoulder, and he’s beginning to shiver, still dripping wet and naked in this room growing colder. They stay in place. Zuko’s arms are gripping onto the fabric of Sokka’s top at the back, the blue cotton blend caught in his fists, which twist and pull against his will.

But he isn’t bleeding through his wrappings and ruining said shirt, he has that going for him, even as he risks stretching it to hell and back.

Like Sokka said, it’s superficial. He probably doesn’t have to worry about destroying the bandage too quickly.

Which also means any veins and arteries he could have hit must remain intact, otherwise the bleeding would be markedly worse.

He definitely doesn’t need stitches, that’s one thing he knows, so he probably doesn’t have to worry about where he’s going to spend the next seventy-two hours, either.

Don’t make me go back, please don’t make me go back, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry.

Even worse than the internal threat of Yangchen, though, and even more what he did, is what he could have done, what his subconscious mind was very well trying to do, and the fact he didn’t catch it until it was already too late, and that he did that here, with Sokka right there just a hallway away, and he wasn’t able to stop it.

He told himself he wasn’t going to do any of this, and then he fucking did.

And now Sokka is directly in front of him and unravelling before his very eyes.

Zuko is nauseated from the heat in spite of the chill running through his bones, his skin is the shade of a lobster and he’s dizzy from the temperature and the pain and from the reality crashing down around him, and he feels like he’s going to be sick and he implicitly knows he won’t be able to stand up without incident for a while longer, and he’s just sitting there quivering while Sokka kneels and is undoubtedly hurting himself by doing so, and Sokka is crying and struggling to breathe, and Zuko can’t help because he did this, and he has no reasonable reassurance, and all he wants is to curl up into a ball and die.

“I can’t go through that again.”

Zuko wants Sokka to hate him for this but he also couldn’t bear it if he did.

This is all so broken, and they are both so fucked up.

They are both so fucked up, and Sokka deserves someone so much less fucked up than Zuko.

He deserves someone who isn’t only ever going to make it worse.

And there’s a familiar pawing sound at the door, too much to be coming from Druk, that Zuko has heard enough times he’d recognize it anywhere.

Appa’s here. Which means Toph is here.

Who called whom first is a question Zuko is not in the frame of mind to ask and won’t consider until much later. Such trivial details are well overshadowed by literally everything else about what is and has been happening all day.

And then the door cracks open—thanks, Toph—and Appa rushes over…

To Sokka.

He noses at Sokka’s bad knee, he puts his paws on Sokka’s shoulders.

Zuko could swear, the amount of crying he’s doing right now is a purging of the build up of all the crying he’s been accidentally repressing for however fucking long it’s been. Now that he’s started he isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to stop.

And watching Appa make Sokka his priority is only making him sob that much harder.

Sokka is shocked to see Zuko cry this much, but he would be lying if he said it wasn’t a fucking massive relief. Maybe this will help. Maybe, for as much as he scared the living hell out of Sokka (and, for that matter, Toph), whatever the fuck just happened is simply something that needed to happen. Maybe this will make a difference. Maybe this will be a good thing in the long run.

Sokka isn’t the best optimist and he doesn’t often try, but in this he has to. He has to find a purpose in it, he has to believe this will have positive consequences, and he knows Zuko well enough to understand that as a real possibility.

What’s most shocking to Sokka is the way Appa picks up on his panic, and the pain in his knee he isn’t showing. Nothing gets past this dog, apparently, but that’s not the part that’s surprising. No, the part that’s surprising is that even though Sokka knows how bad he feels and he gets that Appa would also know, for some reason Appa is calling out Sokka’s current state as more exigent than Zuko’s. Which is either a good sign for Zuko, or a really, really bad sign for Sokka.

Shit, it could even be both.

“Appa, buddy,” Sokka tries pushing him off, tries to pretend he doesn’t need him. “Hey. Leave it.”

Okay, fine, so perhaps Zuko’s obstinance and denial about his own needs for Appa does make complete sense to Sokka after all.

But Sokka also knows that if he were in Zuko’s position at the moment, he would want to get up and get dressed and warm up and generally be comfortable, which he most assuredly is not as he is.

Sokka continues trying to get Appa to stand down while, slowly but surely, Zuko’s crying and trembling progressively calms.

They’ve probably been in here like this for a long time. Toph is waiting patiently for them somewhere beyond the other side of the door, and Appa is a tight squeeze in here, and it has to have been at least a half hour since Sokka ran in.

Sokka is also fighting his gut instinct to call Katara to ask her to look at Zuko’s arm, but he doesn’t know what to tell her about it and it’s not his place to tell the truth and Zuko is already on a hair trigger and Toph has given the impression there is a definitive reason for it so Sokka will keep his cool about that. He knows logically that Katara doesn’t need to see it; Sokka might not be a medical professional, himself, but he could see and feel how shallow the cut was. The length of it might be cause for concern if it was even the slightest bit deeper, but this was obviously not done with any profound intent. It really didn’t even need as much attention as it’s already been given, but Sokka wasn’t going to take any risks when Katara’s giant kit was right there.

And he knows Zuko would have done the same for him if the roles were reversed.

(Sokka does, after all, have a few scars of his own. Not many, and he has always been more likely to attack himself with fists than blades simply as a matter of convenience, and out of precaution in case he was ever caught, but he’s dabbled. He understands.)

Towels, soft pajamas and the most comfortable hoodies, arms reaching out, and then maneuvering around one large and very well intentioned dog to help each other up.

And tension. Rough, undeniable, suffocating tension. Yet somehow it’s easier to breathe than it was before Zuko hurt himself. Because somehow that feels like an act of progress.

Because they are both so fucked up, and they get it. Like it or not, they both understand, and the sole benefit is that this means they can be in it together.

And what Zuko did, it’s an expression. Not an ideal one, not at all a healthy one, but it’s debatably preferable to his hiding so far inside himself he can’t get out or let anyone in.

This is bad, but it was worse. Sort of. Maybe. It’s hard to say. But Sokka believes.

Sokka has to believe.

He doesn’t believe in much, but he believes in Zuko.

Yue skipped this stage entirely. She didn’t physically hurt herself until her suicide. Zuko, on the contrary, descends in stages, he has steps which can be navigated.

Zuko, who is now leaning against the door, in his favorite texture of sleep pants and his favorite of Sokka’s hoodies, watching Appa walking back and forth between them, and who wants to explode from guilt and humiliation.

“I should…I think I should leave,” he says quietly, forcing the ability to be verbal. He’s trying to mask in front of Sokka. He’s not supposed to mask in front of Sokka anymore.

And Sokka’s not having it. “Zuko, with all due respect, fuck you.”

Zuko’s stares in disbelief at Sokka being so harsh, but yeah, he deserved that.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m missing here but you don’t get to scare the living shit out of me, and scare Toph enough for her to come over and bring your fucking dog, and then do…this, and then just leave. That is not fucking happening. We are going to talk about this and figure it all out and deal with it. Okay? I’m not walking away, and you sure as fuck don’t get to.”

Sokka doesn’t sound angry, although he’s encunciating each syllable like it’s leaving a bad taste he wants to spit out. He is clearly not happy, and it isn’t quite sad. But he doesn’t sound angry. More like…tired.

Zuko nods. He decides to save his voice for the discussion which is to follow, and that will have to involve Toph since she came with Appa all this way (not that it’s particularly far, but the bus makes it take much longer and it can be nigh impossible sometimes to find an Uber that will let her bring Appa despite it being illegal not to, and sometimes buses won’t let her on with him either, even though that is, again, super illegal).

Appa is still worried about Sokka’s leg, and his knee is buckling. So Zuko grabs a blanket and the heating pad he recently bought for Sokka, and he insists on Sokka letting him wrap it up and try to help with it. After all Sokka just did for Zuko, Zuko doesn’t take no for an answer.

Zuko makes Sokka put his foot up on the coffee table and is careful in how his hands move around the knee, and he can tell it’s helping because Appa stops clinging so hard to Sokka after Zuko has a blanket tied tightly around the heating pad to keep it secure and prevent it from moving too much.

While Toph has been sitting on the floor this whole time, making herself at home and playing Pacific Rim because it’s what was already in the DVD player (and because it’s fucking gold) with her legs folded up and her knees to her chest. She has been anxiously waiting for them to come out here, with emphasis highkey on anxiously.

Sokka also brings up his good knee, and he presses a hand into his forehead. He is so tired and confused and nervous and sad, he is just upset and exhausted and sick of being kept in the dark. “So is someone going to tell me what the hell is—just, what the hell?”

Zuko tells what he can and Toph fills in where he struggles. At one point Toph runs into Sokka’s bedroom and throws all four of their collective stuffed animals at them (and Sokka again notes how well she’s getting around with her cane alone, even though she’s never been in that room before, and continues to wonder what this means about Appa).

And Zuko cries more, like a dam burst, and it feels so good but at the same time he would love to be able to stop eventually. But Zuko’s crying also makes Toph cry because she is so relieved to watch him break like this, like he’s been needing to for who could ever even guess how long, and she’s shoving herself in between her brother and the very edge of the couch and wrapping her arms around him. Zuko doesn’t know how to react to that or to any of this, and this support doesn’t make him feel any less like being shot into space or having the earth open underneath him and swallow him up. He hides his face in his hands and stares at the floor. He craves walls, his old emotional armor, but he keeps them down and remains bare. He does not mask, neither does he try to again; he stays exposed and vulnerable, he does not deny his loved ones.

Sokka, why aren’t you running? Even now, how could you want to stay?

“I’m sorry,” Zuko offers, and it’s all he has but he has never meant those words more than he does right now. “I’m so sorry. I have no excuse. I don’t know why this happened. I’m…I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sokka’s voice rasps and cracks and fuck, that stings to hear.

“I don’t know.” Zuko hugs himself, making himself smaller curling in on himself. “Today isn’t usually this bad. I mean, yeah, it’s always bad but this was…I didn’t expect this. I should have said something, though. Even if I… I should’ve given you a heads up, anyway. I know I should have.”

“Damn right, you should have.” Sokka still doesn’t sound angry, but his tone is rough and startling. There’s a bite to it, yet nothing remotely threatening, not even to Zuko’s trauma brain. But it’s okay, and it would be if there was anything more ominous in there. Sokka is frustrated and has been through one mindfuck of an emotional rollercoaster as an involuntary passenger all day, too. If he was angry, he would have every right to be. Zuko knows he would be in Sokka’s position.

“But now I know,” Sokka says more calmly. “Now I know and I am so fucking sorry you had to go through all of that, honestly, but I… I need to know I can trust you to talk to me about shit, Zuko. I get it’s hard but dammit, you can’t just shut me out and then pull this shit. Okay? And don’t you dare fucking forget there is a five year old little girl out there who adores you, who doesn’t know what that kind of pain and loss is yet, and do you really want to be the one to straightup fucking end her childhood like that? After how short yours was? I know you don’t, Zuko. I know. And I…Zuko, I want to spend the rest of my fucking life with you, I still do, I mean that, but we can’t—I can’t handle this, alright?”

And then Sokka repeats the words, those unforgettable, haunting, tragic words. “I can’t go through that again.”

Self-sabotage is selfish, Zuko decides. When it can have this effect on Sokka, on the love of his fucking life, he has to try harder. He isn’t sure he will ever be able to care about himself. But he cares about Sokka. He loves him so much and that matters more than anything. Sokka can’t save him, he can’t fix any aspect of what today’s breakdown was all about, but Sokka makes him more willing to work to save himself. Because he doesn’t want Sokka to have to deal with his destruction.

Not any more than he already has.

“I know,” Zuko whispers. “I know. I need to do better. I can do better. I’m going to call Dr. Shyu tomorrow and tell him what happened. He’s promised he’ll never 302 me, so I can tell him the whole truth. And I will, I promise I will. I never meant to hurt you that way. I never want to hurt you that way.”

Sokka’s been hurt too much before.

And maybe this is another turning point for Zuko. He isn’t saying that out loud, just like Sokka didn’t when he thought of it, and neither of them plan to. In Zuko’s case it’s because he doesn’t want to try to justify this. He doesn’t want to try to spin it into a positive light, doesn’t want to talk about it in any manner of potentially excusing it.

But he truly thinks it could be. He genuinely believes this could be a good thing in the long run.

Sokka doesn’t comment on Zuko just casually using the legal coding number for an involuntary commitment like everyone knows what that means, even after he has to ask what “302” is. Zuko’s life has, unfortunately, necessitated such knowledge, which Sokka had never imagined. Yes, he overheard that conversation with Suki, he knew Zuko had attempted to end his life in the past, but he never considered the consequences. It hadn’t occurred to him that such an act would be punished to such a degree.

And Appa is back at Zuko’s feet. He’s chilled out and quieted down, but he stays by Zuko.

That talk can wait, though. Today has been enough as it is, and they won’t be able to move to a new place for another couple of months anyway. So Sokka will wait a little longer, when the timing is closer to relevance. But they have to talk about it, whether Zuko wants to or not, of this Sokka is now one hundred percent sure.

“Wow, we really go hard or go home when it comes to our…does this count as a fight?” Sokka is searching for humor now. Sokka copes with humor. He started doing that when Hakoda ran off around the world, holding onto what Bato teases as his “father’s wit” in an effort to feel close to him when he was so far away both physically and emotionally.

Sokka chuckles even though he knows there was no joke in there. Because he has to. Because if he doesn’t laugh, he’ll cry. And he’s been crying enough as it stands. He doesn’t want to cry anymore today.

When Suki gets home, Toph suggests they grab dinner together elsewhere, and Suki can clearly tell there are reasons behind this request, and no one misses her alarm at seeing Appa, but she doesn’t ask. She takes Toph to drop off the dog and they head out for an impromptu date night.

Sokka and Zuko, on the other hand, order in and Zuko insists on paying for it. It doesn’t anywhere make up for what he put Sokka through, but the gesture is appreciated. The active apology. Sokka wouldn’t have asked for or expected it, but it means something to him that Zuko is so adamant about covering dinner. It helps, Zuko wanting so badly to do what he can for Sokka. It’s a reassurance that Zuko does want to do better, and this isn’t that but it’s a way of trying without waiting. It’s the immediacy. It matters.

Sokka tells Zuko he should at least pick where to order from since it is his trigger day, but Zuko won’t stand for that. He wants to do whatever Sokka wants to do, and Sokka lets him. Because he understands why Zuko is doing it, and he deeply appreciates the sentiment.

While they wait for dinner to arrive and they notice Pacific Rim has been over and on the menu screen for a while, Sokka has a suggestion. He asks Zuko if he’s ever watched Fullmetal Alchemist, and he can’t decide whether or not he’s surprised that the answer is no.

So he pulls up Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood on Netflix (which Mai’s father also now unwittingly pays for), as the reboot is the vastly superior incarnation, but before he hits “play” he explains it to Zuko, and why he believes this is something he needs to see.

“If you need to stop it at any point, please don’t hesitate,” he says. “Because it’s honestly super fucked up. It’s not quite horror but…it gets close. Like, it can be fucking horrific. It’s absolutely brutal, and a lot of it is legit deeply disturbing, I mean we’re talking major psychological distress, and violence, and it gets depressing as hell—”

“Love, you’re not exactly making the most, uh, positive case for starting this now.”

“I know, I know, just hear me out. I want you to know what you’re getting into before, but like. Okay. So yeah, all of that is true, but the thing is, above all else, it’s about love and hope. No matter how bad it gets, that is the central theme, that’s what drives the whole plot. So something tells me you’ll like it, and that it really might actually be exactly what you need right now. It might be what both of us need right now.”

And yeah, that is a most compelling argument.

Zuko is then the one to head to the front door to retrieve their meal, begging Sokka not to get up. He is doing what he can. It’s not much for the moment, but it’s all he has for the time being so he’s giving his all.

And Sokka was right about this show. It’s heart wrenching and horrifying, but it is perfect.

Of course Sokka was right, because Sokka is perfect, and Zuko will do anything to be worthy of him.

Sokka holds his hand while they watch, squeezes whenever Zuko finds it distressing.

Despite everything, Sokka doesn’t let him go.

If anything, it makes him hold Zuko all that much closer. Like he’s afraid Zuko will get lost and become unrecoverable if he doesn’t grab on with all his might, like he’s afraid Zuko will drift away if he doesn’t fight to keep him grounded.

(And in a manner of speaking, he is.)

But this is still hopeful, no matter how utterly fucked this definition of hopeful is (just like the core plot Fullmetal Alchemist, though, making it a great thematic match for the day indeed). Because Sokka knew the whole time that Yue was sinking quickly, but he had no idea she’d reached full on suicidal until he was watching her die. Zuko, it seems, won’t do that. It won’t be abrupt. He won’t fall too far too fast, he won’t crash too hard before it’s too late to be salvaged.

And amazingly, Sokka still wants to marry Zuko. Sokka still wants to take Zuko home. Trust has become tentative and Zuko will have to work on building that back up, but love is as strong as ever.

There isn’t much Zuko is certain of in his life, but right now there is one thing he knows above all else: he is absolutely taking Sokka’s last name when they get married.

Oh, and a second thing: he can’t fucking wait.

Chapter Text

A few days after The Anniversary and The Argument, as they’re already moving into part three of Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, something incredible about the whole ordeal occurs to Zuko.

“So this is gonna sound weird but…I’m really proud of you for being so upset with me.”

Sokka presses pause and looks at Zuko like he’s speaking a language he doesn’t understand. “You’re…what now?”

“I just mean…you didn’t pull any mental gymnastics to make it your fault,” Zuko explains, praying he’s not out of line. “Or try to figure out what you could have done to, like, fix it or stop it when you had no way of knowing what was going on or…you know. You were right to be pissed and you didn’t do anything wrong, and for as awful as that whole thing was, the fact that you didn’t turn it around on yourself was…kind of nice? I guess? Does that make any sense?”

And yeah, it does make sense, and yeah, Sokka is pretty amazed by Zuko pointing that out, not only because he could possibly be in any way pleased to have someone be mad at him but also because he would even notice that in the midst of such a dire situation, a situation they are both still pretty fragile over, and that he’s still thinking about it.

Therapy, though, huh. Who’d have known that could make such a huge difference.

(Literally everyone, as so many have told Sokka over the years but…at least he got to it eventually, right? Better late than never?)

And Zuko has been in more intense contact with his therapist. For the time being Dr. Shyu has agreed he’ll start seeing him twice a week (and thank god for sliding scale payment options for the additional appointments shitty health insurance won’t cover), and he has seen him twice already this week, in fact. Sokka is glad he’s doing this, and while Zuko feels like a burden over the transportation issue Sokka is downright excitable about the idea of driving Zuko to and from his sessions more often because he knows it’ll help, and maybe (definitely) also (more than) a little because it shows Sokka with absolute certainty how hard Zuko is willing to work to prevent a repeat of that occurrence, or a repeat of Yue.

Zuko told Sokka he was going to put in the extra effort and he didn’t waste a second in doing so.

And now Zuko is fucking proud of Sokka for having been angry about what happened.

It looks like it’s going to be easier to build trust back up than Sokka could have guessed.

They love each other so much, it’s unreal.

“I…” Sokka just sort of blinks at Zuko, whose unscarred eye is wide and staring into him, and welling up a little.

It is looking like Zuko might finally really be relearning how to cry, like they’d both wondered about. Meaning this was, all in all, a good thing in its own way when all is said and done.

“Thank you.” Sokka settles on the simplest response, and the way Zuko’s words land on his chest is overwhelming.

Suki’s not home and won’t be for a while. She and Toph and Jin and Song and June and Rivkah are all helping Mai move into Ty Lee’s place. Sokka and Zuko were invited to join them but neither of them have the spoons, even with the offer that they wouldn’t have to help with the heavy lifting (Song can’t do much in that regard, either, a childhood injury having left one of her legs scattered with burn scars and skin grafts, with similar nerve damage to Zuko’s, and she can be so much like Ty Lee in her stubbornness about pushing through to dance, so it’s no wonder they get along so well). But Ty Lee understands.

It’s good this is happening, though. Ty Lee has been resolutely putting it off for a while now, but after the last time she fell due to a dislocation, spraining her ankle and bashing her head into the nearest wall, Mai decided enough was enough. Ty Lee sobbed over being too young for this, over the independence she was so desperate to hold onto yet cannot have, but she agreed. They went to the apartment manager and had a new lease drawn, Mai broke her lease where she’d been living the past couple of years and willingly forfeited the security deposit this means she won’t get back, and that was that.

Zuko’s been checking in with Ty Lee frequently (he kind of gets it; he’s always known he can never live alone, and has never been happy about not even having the option), and she’s thoroughly not okay, but she loves Mai and is thankful to have her here, thankful for the fact that if she can’t live alone then at least it can be Mai who she lives with.

So Suki’s not home and won’t be for a while, meaning it’s okay that Zuko’s starting to cry.

He’s not sure he’s ready to let anyone see him cry so easily over effectively nothing; this is new and it’s nice but it’s weird and he isn’t sure it’s going to stick, but if it is then it’s best to ease into it. If Suki were here he might subconsciously stop himself, and he doesn’t want that.

It’s strange to be excited about crying, and it’s strange for Sokka to be excited about seeing his fiancé cry, but…

Nothing about them was ever going to be conventional.

Zuko picks up Kitty and presses him into his face. They’ve been bringing their plushies out with them whenever they leave Sokka’s room since Toph made that call for them during the other day’s drama and it turned out to be a great idea, and Kitty being the one Sokka bought makes him feel like the right choice. Sokka similarly picks up his otterpenguin (named Hawky despite that being, as Sokka himself acknowledged, “the wrong kind of birb,” but it was the first thing that popped into his head and he stuck with it) and rubs the top set of flippers between his fingertips.

As grateful as Zuko is to not currently be the numb beyond repair kind of depressed, and for as much as he doesn’t want to hold back crying out of fear that if he does he’ll fall right back into what he’s been doing for all these years prior to now, he also doesn’t want Sokka to feel like he needs to comfort him. He isn’t even entirely sure why he’s been brought to tears and he isn’t complaining but he doesn’t want to take away from Sokka. Sokka has done so much for him already and this was supposed to be about him and his progress, not about Zuko.

“Talk to me, babe,” Sokka says, and Zuko understands that’s part of the deal. He has to talk to Sokka, even if right now he’s not sure what it is he might need to talk about.

He lowers the plush cat so Sokka will be able to hear him, and holds it to his chest. “I…I don’t really know, everything’s just a lot. I guess I’m sad that, you know, that happened. That I put you through that. And I know, I know, I just need to do better and I’m going to do better but— I’m overwhelmed about it and I feel awful and I don’t know how to stop feeling so fucking awful. And it’s weird to cry so much? Fuck, Sokka, this is so fucking weird and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel about it or what to do with it and I’m kind of worried now I’m just gonna cry over everything forever but it’s nice but it sucks but…it’s seriously just weird. But I’m also, umm, kind of happy? I am, I’m happy you didn’t beat yourself up. I’m happy you knew you weren’t to blame, that it was my fault. I’m so happy you were mad. And that’s confusing as hell but I love you so much and I’m really just so happy you—”

Sokka hugs Zuko and encourages him to keep crying, and he can’t stop being completely blown away by Zuko’s reaction to Sokka’s heat of the moment anger.

The very next day, Sokka had been hopeful about the fact that Zuko came home with a lock box.

“For razors,” he told him. He’d had Mai take him to Target to pick it up. There are two keys and two keys only, one for Sokka and one for Suki. He apologized for the inconvenience of the prospect of locking away such commonly used items, but he wanted to give them the option if nothing else, even if they decided not to go that route, and he wanted to be the one to get it.

Sokka would love it if Zuko could ever want to get better for his own sake and not just because of how his self-destructive behaviors hurt Sokka, but Zuko is trying so hard and Sokka will take it with utmost gratitude.

Besides, he is self-aware enough to recognize what an utter hypocrite he’d be if he wanted to expect Zuko to care for Zuko alone.

“I know, baby,” Sokka replies now. “It means a lot, believe me, and I know you—”

I know you love me.

What a wild thought, that Zuko could love him this much and he could be so sure.

“I know you do. And I love you, too, alright? I love you so much, nothing’s changed that. You know that, right?”

Zuko wishes he could wish he could stop crying. But he not only can’t stop but he can’t genuinely want to. It’s such a fucking inconvenience, goddamn, and it’s slightly infuriating to be so grateful to do it.

But he has to be grateful. He does. It’s terrible and he hates how he got to this but he’s been crying quite a bit since the thing and it’s becoming only a matter of time before more people see it and he doesn’t know what to think about that part, particularly if he does start crying at the drop of a hat like it seems he’s heading towards, but it’s fucking liberating.

And the chance this emotional exchange will end in sex is not insignificant, as it can be so easy to distract from serious subjects with that, or to use it to express what emotions yet need to come out but remain blocked in language alone, but Sokka and Zuko need to finish talking first. Neither are sure what’s left to say, but this doesn’t feel over and they will not interrupt this progress.

It should have changed. You should be running.

Why do you always stay? Why do you always keep me with you?

Sokka kisses at the stream of tears trickling down Zuko’s cheek, and he wonders if Zuko would ever think to consider the fact that Zuko has done this for him more than once. He knows the answer, though. He knows he knows the answer.

“You know nothing has changed that, right?” Sokka asks again. Because this question was not rhetorical, and he needs to hear Zuko acknowledge it.

But it just doesn’t make sense. Zuko doesn’t want to question it or push it away but it doesn’t make any sense.

Zuko is silent, frozen, overwrought.

Sokka needs to get through to him, though. He needs Zuko to understand, as well as he can.

“Zuko, baby, can you answer me? Can you speak right now?”

And there’s no judgment in it, it’s nothing more than a question, a gauge of where Zuko is. It’s okay if he can’t, Sokka only wants to know. Because Sokka gets that Zuko could unexpectedly lose his voice like that at any time and he’s alright with it, he just wants to be on the same page.

“Yeah,” Zuko forces. He is getting close to shutting down and not being able to, but that isn’t fair. Nothing about any of this is fair to Sokka.

Everything inside of Zuko wants to push this away. Everything inside of him wants to tell Sokka to fuck off, to break his own heart by making it so Sokka will leave and never come back, hurting Sokka for Sokka’s own good but hurting Sokka, and making sure it will hurt enough to keep him away because that’s what’s best for him.

Zuko is glad he’s not that person anymore. Sokka wouldn’t much care for how angry and violent he used to be. He didn’t think he’d grow out of it. He didn’t think he needed to, had believed it would be better if he stayed that way and never let anyone get close. But it’s amazing what therapy can show a person.

(But he’s already hurt Sokka enough, anyway. He’s already hurt Sokka so much, but here he is and here they are and Zuko cannot lose this, and for some ungodly reason Sokka can’t seem to let him. It doesn’t make sense, but Sokka refuses to lose this, too.)

The first time Toph tried to get through to him during a rough time, he panicked when she approached him and threw a glass at her. It broke where it landed, and she stepped on the mess and cut her feet. He didn’t consider his action before he took it; he had been startled and reacted on pure instinct. He had been so furious with himself when he realized what he’d done. He had beaten himself up so badly for hurting her, for how very like Ozai he believed that made him. Toph forgave him surprisingly quickly, but he has never quite forgiven himself.

It’s better not to be Angry Young Zuko, to have left that person in the past, but it hurts now to feel so much. That rage had been a great cover for all that’s been buried beneath, and he had no concept for just how numb he’s become since (mostly) taming his temper, until it’s all started coming out in the last few days.

“Sunshine,” Sokka says softly.

That’s a new one, and Zuko can’t help the automatic grin that accompanies it.

“Starlight,” he responds without hesitation, the endearment effortless, the reply leaving his lips before it quite passes through his brain.

And Sokka smiles. Even with everything else, Zuko returning one sappy nickname for another makes Sokka’s heart swell, and Zuko can never get enough of making Sokka light up like this.

You are so beautiful. What did I do to deserve you?

(Yes.)

Toph has also been checking in with Sokka. A lot. More, in fact, than she even has been with Zuko. Sokka is constantly being bombarded with texts from her making sure he’s holding up okay and begging him to be honest if he’s not.

And to reiterate to him, to do everything in her power to make it stick in his head, over and over and over and over and over again, that Zuko just gets like this and that it is no way Sokka’s fault.

“I don’t know anything about Yue, but you not being able to help her sounds like her problem,” she told him. “You cannot make him a mess, you found him that way. But you also cannot fix his mess. You can’t fix anyone who isn’t yourself.”

He remembers. And he’s trying to believe her, he swears he is trying so hard.

“It’s not our fault. It’s Ozai’s and shit brain chemistry’s. And I trust you, Sokka. I really do.” But there’s still that “again,” of which he has come to understand the meaning better than he would ever have wanted.

Because it almost did.

But then it didn’t. And Toph stands by that it’s not Sokka’s responsibility, that if “again” ever truly does mean again, whatever happens is not within Sokka’s power to control. But he made a difference this time, she says. That he might not be able to sway Zuko away from the worst, but he can influence him to move towards the best.

He tells her that this is contradictory, that it’s stupid and illogical, and she doesn’t waste any time calling bullshit on him. She tells him she knows it works both ways between him and Zuko, that Zuko does the same for him whether it’s “logical” or not, and that’s how she knows he knows it, too. And she’s right, and he is talking more and more about that rationality and how to reconcile it in therapy.

And how much Toph cares about him, how much she wants him to understand she trusts him with her beloved brother’s mental health, not even to mention how deeply Iroh adores him and how much he appreciates Sokka’s relationships to both of his kids…

Sokka is as much a part of Zuko’s family as Zuko is of his, there is no denying.

For as unsure as he’d been about coming back to Ba Sing Se for anything but Suki, this was the best decision he could possibly have made.

He is so thankful to be there, to have this.

To be so loved. To love so much.

(They are also all pointedly making an effort to distract both Zuko and Toph from the big headline that dropped two days ago, that Ozai as well as Lao Beifong have each officially, personally joined in on the new billionaire space race and thus no one will be shutting the fuck up about them for god only knows how long, knowing it’ll most assuredly be even worse than the last time they became a major news story, with media and memes appearing immediately in abundance. But with the recent events just between the three of them, that’s more of a background concern for the time being.)

But Sokka still needs Zuko’s answer. It’s important. It’s too important.

Even when Zuko does kiss him instead, and Sokka instinctively falls right into it, gripping Zuko and holding on tight, tethering himself to Zuko’s lips. He doesn’t want to stop, he doesn’t want to let go, but the line between connection and deflection when it comes to emotional support fucking is razor thin and it could not possibly be clearer in this which side of it they’re on if they allow themselves to topple head first into that need like it is so obscenely tempting to do.

Zuko slinks in closer, and Sokka stiffens and stops him from spilling into his lap, because there will be no coming back from that.

“Zuko…” Sokka’s voice is breathy, urgent, so ready, but he pulls his mouth away and presses his and Zuko’s foreheads together.

And Zuko hasn’t even stopped crying, steady and quiet, right eye wide and bloodshot and puffy, and Sokka tastes salt and that helps bring him back to the conversation at hand.

“Sunshine,” Sokka repeats. And god, that is everything.

Sokka is everything. Sokka is perfect.

“Nothing has changed,” Zuko whispers. “Yeah, I… Sokka, yeah, I…I know. I don’t know why, but I…”

“Sunshine.” And Sokka can hear Zuko’s smile in his shaky exhale. That’s not going to get old. Sokka’s going to be saying that a lot from now on. “Listen to me, okay? Really listen. It’s alright, I promise. I promise. And hey, remember how you took such good care of me when I broke my leg? I don’t know what I would have done without you then, I really fucking don’t. I mean that, baby. I can’t tell you how much I mean that. Remember how you took care of me when I was upset about missing my mom when yours was here, even though you should have just been able to be happy about it? Zuko, you have done so much for me. You are so fucking incredible and I am so lucky to have you. I know you don’t believe me but I’m still gonna tell you.”

“I love you so much.” Zuko can never say that enough. He can never tell him enough. No matter how many times he says it, it will never adequately express how firmly he means it. Zuko’s love for Sokka cannot be confined to words, and there is no action great enough to show him. Sokka is love, he is as vital as blood and oxygen. To know Sokka is to love him.

How could Zuko have ever doubted that? How could he have ever dared to condemn this, to ever imagine this could succumb to any of those fears fuelled only by his self-hatred?

(Iroh believes in destiny. And Iroh believes in Sokka and Zuko, so…)

“I love you, Sunshine.” A kiss to the cheek, another swipe of saline transferred onto Sokka’s skin. “I do. A shitty day won’t ruin that. Yeah, it was…it was a really shitty day, that was…fuck, but we can get past it. As long as…uhh, as long as we’re, um, here, we can get through this.”

“I can’t go through that again.”

Don’t put him through that again.

And the tension, the longing, the outpouring of sorrow and sympathy, of grief and desire, this beautiful, sad, delicate affection…

It all snaps.

That line is razor thin and sometimes it’s impossible to determine whether or not they’ve stumbled over it and onto the correct side, and they sure as hell have no idea now, but they can’t hold back any longer.

It’s not about the sex itself. It’s about feeling each other, about being as physically close as they possibly can, adjoining their bodies and taking in everything about the other.

It could be rough and loud, it could be soft and slow. There’s no way of knowing how this will turn out until they’re already in it. But they need this. They do. Maybe there is yet a little bit of an attempt at deflection in their craving this connection, but they’ve gotten this started and now there’s no stopping them.

Druk runs away from their clumsy stomping as they storm their way to the bedroom without taking hands or lips away from each other.

Well, that works. Saves them the trouble of having to forcibly remove him. Or of managing enough awareness of their surroundings to do so before it’s too late.

Good god, this is going to be cathartic.

Zuko frantically kisses Sokka’s neck, pulls off his shirt, trails his lips across his collarbone and down his chest. Zuko wants to give Sokka the world. Zuko will give Sokka all he can.

He doesn’t believe himself to be good at much, but sex? Sex, he can do. He has lots of experience and a deep need to satisfy, and all those one night stands of yesteryear have informed him that he does have at least one skill going for him.

And he and Sokka just fit together so perfectly, it’s like they were made for each other, and that makes it so much better than either of them ever knew it could be.

(Or, in Sokka’s case, that it ever could be again.)

Zuko takes initiative, pushes Sokka onto the bed and strips him down as fast as he can. He kisses every inch of Sokka’s bare skin he can reach, taking extra care around his left knee and the achiest parts of his leg and his surgery scars. Zuko is so tender, the pace he takes with this expression is almost languid, a well established love language all its own.

Not that Sokka ever doubts how much Zuko loves him. And he doesn’t ever want to ask more of Zuko than Zuko can give, knowing well how one-sided Zuko believes this relationship to be.

But Sokka is still rattled. Sokka is still fragile. He doesn’t resent Zuko for what happened, he isn’t mad, but maybe he needs this more than he’d realized.

Maybe he really does just need someone to be this gentle with him.

Zuko takes his time working his mouth between Sokka’s legs, and when he gets there he doesn’t force anything on himself the way he usually does. No, he lovingly licks and kisses at the head, skims his tongue along the underside with featherlight pressure. It’s graceful and soothing, exquisite, downright ethereal. Every movement is motivated, meant for pleasure but even more for piety. Zuko’s efforts, his motions are fucking reverent, worshipful. He is taking Sokka apart piece by piece, bit by bit, casually but carefully, because there may be no words or actions strong enough to show Sokka how much Zuko loves him, but this accomplishes more than any repetition of those three little words ever will in Zuko’s mind.

Sokka would staunchly disagree any other time, would tell Zuko those words are just as important as anything and that the weight of their meaning is implicit in their simply being said, but at the moment this is the only thing he can think about.

Head empty, no words, only Zuko and his impeccably talented touches.

And Sokka does not take his time with Zuko, because Zuko begs him not to. They skip the foreplay on Zuko’s end, and make the prep work quick. Once Sokka takes control, all Zuko wants is to have Sokka inside him, to make themselves inseparable for as long as this can last. They can take their time from there, and they do, but until they are literally joined together, nothing else matters aside from getting there.

It’s emotionally charged, breathtaking, quiet murmurs of “Sunshine” and “Starlight” and “I love you” and counterintuitive tears replacing the standard moans and shouts of “Zuko” and “Sokka” and “fuck” and “oh my god.” For as physically intense as it isn’t, it may truly be the most intense sex either of them have ever had.

They both come gasping and writhing, instead of the usual yelling and groaning and collapsing. Each orgasm takes them by surprise, and occurring so close together, each a force of nature claiming both of their entire bodies and minds.

Sometime later Druk wanders back in, alerting them they’d neglected to close the bedroom door all the way.

But oh well. Suki isn’t home and probably won’t be for a while.

And whatever might have happened, this would have been entirely worth it.

Everything is going to be okay. They have one another, and they are working so hard, and that means everything has to be okay.

As long as they’re both here. As long as they both have the help they need.

They can get through anything.

***

Zuko goes to therapy literally five times the week before he and Sokka leave, to prepare for the time Dr. Shyu won’t have with him when he needs it more than usual, and to work out any anxieties Zuko might have about the impending trip (the dads thing, the aspect of going someplace new and unfamiliar, any and all latent fears about where Zuko fits in with Sokka’s family). Dr. Shyu does not report these sessions to billing or Zuko’s insurance.

Zuko is thankful. So is Sokka.

Chapter Text

Alaska.

They are finally en route to Alaska.

Zuko has determined he hates flying. It’s his first time, and of course it’s worth it and he would do it again without hesitation for Sokka in the future, but he is not a fan. It is a level of misery that Zuko and the stupid longterm consequences of his stupid head injuries and his stupid autonomic nervous system could not possibly have imagined.

“Wait, for real? You mean you didn’t fly all the way from fucking Caldera when you moved here?” Sokka had asked when Zuko revealed he’d never done this before.

“No, we took a train.”

“Fuck, how long did that take?”

“No idea,” Zuko had answered with a shrug. “I don’t remember it at all, honestly. You’d have to ask my dad. But he said something about me not being medically clear to fly and he just wanted to get me out of there and get me home, so…”

And that made sense, but Sokka also internally decides they really need to look into getting Zuko a passport so he can enter Canada and they can go by ground next time. Because yes, flying was their only option as long as Zuko can’t legally cross a border, given how absurdly expensive the ferries from Washington are and the fact they’d still have to grab a couple of planes to reach their specific destination after the boat ride anyway, but he is…not doing well. And yes, that trip would take forever, but in fairness so does this one. Yet a shorter version of forever, but not anywhere near short enough to make it worth it.

Sokka also decides not flying to Arizona when that time comes is non-negotiable. With no international borders involved on that one, there is not even going to be a discussion.

Zuko surprisingly hadn’t been too nervous about it ahead of time, his mind far more occupied by the destination, but he also neglected to consider how it might affect him with all his health concerns. Alas, he found himself loading up on overpriced mints at the Minneapolis airport in an effort to cover for the excessive amount of vomiting he’d done on the way there, and taking in as much fluid as his body can hold and what small snacks he can keep down in hopes of avoiding passing out again, and is now doing the same on their second stop.

On the plus side, the flight attendants have all been nothing but nice and very understanding, and believed Zuko every time he lied and said it was just anxiety about his first time travelling. And Sokka didn’t blame him for not wanting this to be treated like a medical emergency, since god knows what looks like one for the average person and what looks like one for Zuko are two preposterously different things.

(Sokka decides that medical alert bracelets might be worth bringing up, and hopes that’s not something Zuko would be mad about. Sokka can imagine he’d be mad about it. But of course, Sokka having to adjust to a new normal has been hell but a standard medical emergency would still be an emergency for Sokka, unlike Zuko. The arthritis and general tissue damage and potential nerve damage don’t change that. But there are things that look like emergencies to most, but genuinely aren’t for Zuko. So it’s not the same.)

(And Katara is later going to have words for Zuko about not thinking ahead on this, that’s for sure.)

Sokka on the other hand traditionally has no issue with planes, having flown a million times before and never before having any pronounced physical side effects except for in instances of turbulence. And this has changed, and the arthritis in his knee is flaring and the leg is a little swollen and tingly, and his shoulder is stiff and swelling too, but he determines it’s nothing worth making a big deal out of. What he does have a problem with, however, is the three hour layover in Seattle.

While avoiding Canada was easy, it turns out it can be rather difficult to fly to Alaska on a low budget without having a layover in Seattle.

Sokka has traditionally managed to work around this in the past, always figuring out a way to find and shell out any extra money required for a different flight plan, but Zuko’s finances are substantially less flexible and that’s not something they discuss much (Zuko may or may not have had a few meltdowns already about how he’s going to afford officially moving out, and whether he’ll have to take a second job or look for a new one altogether, neither of which he wants to do—although Sokka also may or may not have a few ideas about that and is yet trying to figure out how to bring them up to Zuko). So the plan they chose was the one that was the cheapest available, and Sokka swore to Zuko over and over again that it would be okay but…

It isn’t.

“I’ve never understood why more planes makes flying cheaper,” Zuko said when they were buying the tickets, looking over their path from BSS to MSP to SEA to ANC to AKN to IGG. The stops in Anchorage and King Salmon were inevitable due to the small size and equally small service to Igiugig’s airport, but the rest baffled the living hell out of him.

Sokka explained to him the logistics behind it, about fuel and aircraft size, and passenger health and safety on long haul flights (which somehow neither of them registered as a potential red flag for Zuko, but that’s just because at no point would they be in the air anywhere near six hours). All points Zuko hadn’t considered, largely because he’d never really had to, but it’s still annoying and he had been willing to purchase the one option they found anywhere near their budget that did not land at SEA, but it was more and after much debate Sokka convinced him it wasn’t necessary.

Sokka isn’t sure who he was actually lying to between Zuko and himself. The latter seems more like him, which then means he still did lie to Zuko by extension, but only because he was so sure he believed it.

And of course, Zuko immediately realized what was happening when they’d been off the plane for just a few minutes and Sokka started having a panic attack.

He is trembling and bouncing his good leg (his bad leg is also being very bad, so much worse than he’s willing to admit to even himself, this being his first time seeing 30,000 feet since he broke it and that being another issue they didn’t think of beforehand, but he hasn’t said a word about it and doesn’t intend to) and he’s working his hardest to count his breaths, and a hoarse, shaky Zuko puts a hand on Sokka’s bad knee and turns to him. “Babe, we are not, under any circumstances, driving to Seattle next time.”

Because yes, Sokka had suggested that as a means of minimizing Zuko’s time in the air for their next trip (and because he is still so happy Zuko also wants there to be a next trip) after the second time he passed out since departing Ba Sing Se. And it genuinely had sounded like a good idea to him at the time. Zuko gets motion sickness in all moving vehicles, they both know that, but staying on land is evidently vastly preferable so Sokka was more than willing to accommodate that.

Or he would have been, if being here at all without even seeing anything outside the airport didn’t fuck him up so much.

And Zuko knows Sokka well enough to know there is an absurdly high chance he’ll try to suggest that again in the future anyway, so he’s going to make it clear now that he will not let Sokka do that to himself just because they’ve discovered Zuko gets a little airsick.

(Alright, more than a little, fine, but—the point stands.)

Zuko wasn’t too happy about that idea to start with, anyway, since that would be a lot of driving for one person and Zuko can’t help with that part (and he is currently doing his damnedest not to hyperfocus on his grief over not only not being able to drive but also his newfound grief over the fact that he sucks at flying, and both of these being Ozai’s fault), but now it’s not an option at all and that is non-negotiable.

(But trains and buses are options, too. Which Sokka will be sure to mention when he brings up seriously making travelling through Canada a possibility for next time.)

Sokka ignores that, though, and instead follows with, “We should skip Fairbanks.”

“No,” Zuko says to that, too. “We already bought the tickets and reserved the hotel which is all non-refundable, and it was so important to you to see the lights, so—”

“Zuko. You saw the fucking itinerary. We have to go back to King Salmon and then back to Anchorage to get up there. There is no way in hell I’m putting you through that just to go back to Igiugig for another couple of days and then do this all over again.” And then Sokka tries to crack a joke, tries to laugh at himself by adding, “Good thing I’m not proposing there, after all, huh.”

Neither of them find any levity there. Zuko lets that part slide, and doesn’t stand down.

“But, counterpoint, there’s no way in hell we’re not doing that. And before you say anything, it’s not even about the money, although you also spent the extra so we could do this. But I know how much it means to you, so we’re going.”

“Zuko—”

“When we get to your dads’ house, we’ll look up travelling with dysautonomia and chronic post-concussion syndrome and whatever. I’m sure I’m not the only person who has them and has had this problem, and we can look into workarounds. I’ll bet you anything we’ll find some hacks if we just Google, okay? We’ll make it work. But we’re going. So let’s just be thankful you chose Fairbanks over Utqiaġvik to save us the extra five hundred miles—I mean, wow, I never realized how huge Alaska is, but…we’re gonna do this.”

“Baby, I…” Sokka takes Zuko’s hand, rubs his thumb in circles over Zuko’s skin. “Okay. But I’m gonna call Katara. Like, now. See what she thinks, or if she knows what to do.”

Zuko scowls, and even with both his eyes bright red and his right cheek mottled with broken blood vessels, Sokka continues to be in awe of his beauty. “Sokka, we can worry about that later. Right now, I need to know what I can do for you.”

“Let me do this. I’m serious, Zuko, that is, like, all I can do right now but that way I can do something. Okay?”

Sokka was, after all, at one of his most hopeless and helpless points the last time he was here. Cracking bad jokes left and right in a consistently failed attempt at making Katara—who was utterly despondent, and spotted with bruises and bandages—laugh, while Hakoda was spending hours on the phone making arrangements to get Kya’s body back home and planning the funeral and poorly hiding his trying not to break down.

“Okay,” Zuko concedes, because he doesn’t know what else to do. So if trying to fix Zuko’s disaster will distract Sokka from what’s going on in his head, so be it.

He calls via Facetime so they can both see her, and she reacts instantly to how sick Zuko looks.

“Yeah, thanks, nice to see you, too,” Zuko laughs, because he wants Sokka to laugh.

Sokka does not laugh.

He tells her everything and his request for advice has an unwarranted desperation in it, and she reads that like a book, too.

“You’re in Seattle, aren’t you?”

“Uh, maybe…”

“Shit, Sokka, are you okay?”

It’s Sokka who scowls at that, and then shakes his head. “No, I’m not, alright? I don’t want to talk about it. Just…just tell me what we can do about my darling fiancé here, please.”

Katara sighs, but acquiesces, and here come those words. “Fine. Zuko, hydrate. I cannot fucking believe you didn’t plan for this ahead of time—wait, who am I kidding, of course I can—but step number one is drink as much as you possibly can. And I shouldn’t have to say this, but non-alcoholic beverages only.”

“I’m on my, like, billionth bottle of water.” Zuko holds it up to Sokka’s phone for good measure.

“Electrolytes,” she responds without hesitation. “Get some Gatorade or something. Sokka, hold him to that. If he’s throwing up that much, he’s probably dehydrated as hell and losing a ton of electrolytes, and drinking that much plain water will throw them off balance, too. You need electrolytes. I cannot stress this enough. Sokka, if he keeps fainting, that’s probably why. Not fun, I know, but you don’t need to be so scared. And Zuko, with your medical history it might still happen, but getting plenty of fluids should help. The elevation and cabin pressure can mess with a healthy person, so you, Zuko, need to take every extra precaution you can, you hear me? See if you can find some Dramamine—maybe at whatever little shop or café I assume is nearby where you got all those mints I see—but only if you’re feeling up to looking. Sokka, don’t let him walk around by himself, and don’t leave him alone just to be safe. That part might be a little paranoid, but just do that one for me.”

Zuko feels like a fucking child listening to Katara’s instructions, but he doesn’t interject. It makes him want to scream, but his throat is so sore he doubts he could even if he let himself.

“And did you not bring compression socks with you?” Katara’s question is legitimate, there’s no judgment in it, no assumption that he didn’t. She might be more concerned at how little of a difference they were making if he had.

Zuko sighs that she’s given him too much credit. “I, uh, don’t have any.”

Katara’s eyes narrow.

“You’re fucking kidding me, how have we never… I…” She takes a breath, and this is clearly another conversation for another time. “Okay, I’m sure you’re going to be fucked on this until you get there but when you get home, you are finding compression socks. Let me repeat that: when you guys get home, you are finding compression socks. I am not asking, I am telling. Got it? Actually you know what, never mind, I’m texting Dad and telling him to make a run to pick some up before you get there. That ought to make a difference for the way home here, at least. Zuko, I really wish I’d known you’d never been on a plane before or I would have gone over all of this with you before you left.”

She does not mention this run will undoubtedly require a trip to another town, and said trip will require an air taxi, making it even more important to get it over with before Zuko arrives, because she knows Zuko will feel even more guilty. He’ll probably figure that sort of thing out later, but for now she’ll spare him.

And she very decidedly neglects to tell him she’ll pay however much it takes in rush shipping all the way to Alaska to get him a pair off of the internet while they’re still out there if she has to.

“Yeah, yeah,” Zuko grumbles. Yeah, he’s suffering enough. “Thanks, I hate it.”

She goes on to show them the PC6 acupressure point to ease motion sickness, and she makes a point of texting Hakoda while they’re still on the call. She also informs them that the shorter the flight the lower the syncope risk, so things should start to naturally improve from here, since going from Minneapolis-Saint Paul International to Sea-Tac is the longest they’ll be in the air at one time for their journey (even though that still does not at all count as a long haul flight, so this doesn’t really make Zuko feel any better).

But she also reminds him again to get more electrolytes and again stresses antiemetic medication, further stressing that’s almost certainly the reason it’s affecting him this badly.

“And Sokka?”

“Yes, Katara?”

“I need you to tell me five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste.”

He was hoping he didn’t look as bad as he feels, especially with the Zuko distraction, but apparently he isn’t so lucky.

And Katara’s not stupid. Even though Sokka doesn’t talk to her about his personal trauma responses to losing their mother, she would be able to guess without seeing him that being in Seattle for the first time since would have to be hard on him.

But he doesn’t talk about it. Not to her.

He hasn’t talked about it too much to anyone who isn’t Zuko, but never—never—to Katara.

He doesn’t have a right to. He’s her older brother, he’s supposed to protect her. He couldn’t protect her then, but he can protect her from himself.

And Hakoda’s last words to him before he left as his own trauma response, for as innocuous as Hakoda must have felt they were and most assuredly meant them to be, have never gotten out of Sokka’s head. “Take care of your sister.”

So he learned tai chi with Katara, held close to weaponry passed down to him through their family, studied tessenjutsu with Suki, hit the gym and built up as much strength as his body can muster. He promised himself he would become a pillar, a rock. He would take care of his sister, take care of everyone, no matter what.

So he can’t say anything to her. He can’t.

And Sokka didn’t have to see Kya die. Katara did. What could he possibly say to her?

She’ll hate how pathetic I am. She would have every right to hate how pathetic I am.

She had it worse. How can I burden her with my bullshit about it? I have no fucking right.

What he can see is Katara, so young yet having just become so old in her grief and what she has witnessed. What he can see is her bright red eyes, and the seemingly neverending quiver of her lips. He sees her wounds, he sees the end of any remains of a childhood, already transitioning in those awkward early teenage years but all at once making a harsh and irreversible turn into adulthood prematurely. He sees Hakoda pacing. He hears Hakoda’s frantic footsteps, his shouting on the phone about what happens next, his holding back tears on the phone with Gran Gran and then Bato. He hears a man breaking, a father retreating. He smells Bactine and Neosporin coming off of Katara, and what little is left of the scent of his mother’s perfume on the shirt he hasn’t changed from the last time they hugged.

(He never washed that shirt again. It didn’t matter, the aroma disappeared over time, anyway, but he had to keep it exactly as it was. He wanted to hold onto something that would always have been touched by her, untainted by traitorous laundry detergent trying to clean it off ever since.)

(He understands why everyone’s concern was Katara after the accident. He never wanted anyone to focus on how he was handling it. But Zuko would insist it’s still not fair that no one ever did, that they should have.)

He feels ill. Breathing feels impossible.

He’ll play the game, though. If it will make Katara feel better, if it will get her to back down and stop worrying about him, he’ll do it.

“I see my darling fiancé. I see…I see, um, a lot of other people walking around. There’s a kid with a Pikachu backpack, that’s fucking cool. And ooh, I think I see Gatorade in that little shop over there, we’re gonna have to go check that out in a minute. Also, hey, I see a little shop. So that’s five.”

There, she should be satisfied.

And it’s not like he doesn’t actually see all of those things. They’re all just a little hazy, his vision blurred by the intensity of everything happening inside his head.

“I can touch my darling fiancé. I can touch the chairs we’re on. I can touch the fun stimmy parts of my hair.” And just to really rub it in, he does stim on his undercut to show her. “And I can touch my shirt. It’s also a very good texture, so everyone wins.”

Katara doesn’t say anything. Sokka doesn’t know if that’s good or bad for him.

“I can—I’m sorry, baby, I love you, but—smell my darling fiancé. And—seriously, Zuko, I love you—that counts as at least two things. And I can taste…I don’t know, my tongue? Come on, that one’s always seemed a little weird. So. There.”

“Wow, Sokka, you know, I almost believed any of that.”

“No, you didn’t,” Zuko says quickly. He’s rubbing Sokka’s shoulder, though, and it feels so good that Sokka can’t be mad about it.

“No, I didn’t,” Katara confirms. “Sokka, you know I’m only doing this because I love you, right?”

Yeah, well, I’m only doing this because I love you, too.

“Yeah, I know,” he says out loud, and even he can acknowledge how unconvincing his tone was that time.

He is not going to argue with his sister about this in public. He cannot argue with his sister about this in public. That is the only thing that could make this worse at this point.

But it doesn’t seem likely Katara is going to stand down, meaning it seems unlikely that Sokka is not going to end up arguing with his sister in public.

Panicked and shaking, humiliating enough of a public position, and desperately hoping not to have to add shouting and crying to the scene he’s making.

All he fucking wanted was to try to help Zuko. This is ridiculous. Obviously Zuko needs Katara’s help far more than he does.

“Alright, so,” Sokka tries again. “Gatorade, Dramamine, pressure point, compression socks. Cool, got it. Thanks for the help, Katara!”

And then before she can once more call him out on his bullshit, he hangs up.

“Sokka,” Zuko reprimands quickly. “You know she’s gonna give you hell for that, right?”

“I know, I know, I…I just…”

Fuck, he really is going to cry. He’s going to cry in the middle of the goddamn airport and nothing, it seems, can stop him.

But Katara won’t see it. That makes it better.

Zuko turns and his head only spins a little bit, taking Sokka into his arms and pushing his head into his chest. He doesn’t even consider how unpleasant this might actually be for Sokka with the smell of sick lingering between them, but he knows Sokka doesn’t want anyone to see what’s about to happen so he moves on autopilot to assist.

Zuko runs his fingers through Sokka’s hair as he weeps—Sokka’s hair that’s only down because he used his only elastic tie put up Zuko’s hair at some point during their first flight so neither of them had to keep thinking to hold it up with their hands—and by now Sokka’s shaking even harder than Zuko is. But Zuko holds on, holds him tight. He hopes no one is looking. He hopes no one stops to notice one man crying into another man who looks like death warmed over. Neither of them need that kind of attention brought to them. Neither of them need any outside attention brought to them, not at all.

He tries to remember how often Dr. Shyu has told him that most people are too stuck in their own worlds to pay too much attention to strangers, that virtually no one is ever judging him as much as his anxiety tells him they are because they are their own people with their own lives of which Zuko is not a part.

Zuko is losing his fucking mind for a cigarette at the moment but for one, he’s not leaving Sokka alone and Sokka would surely argue against Zuko going alone, and for two, he is absolutely not making Sokka go outside and see any more of Seattle than he has to. No way in hell is he making this worse for Sokka.

He’s getting an application for a passport when they return to Ba Sing Se, he promises himself and silently promises Sokka. So that next time they can, indeed, go by land. There are trains and buses, they can work it out. But no matter what, they are never entering the city of Seattle again. They can avoid the whole state of Washington just to be safe for all Zuko cares. He never felt a need to travel here before and he’s more than happy to never so much as pass through here again, as long as this means that wherever he goes, Sokka’s there with him.

Zuko just wishes—he wishes more than anything, even so much more than he wishes he hasn’t been spending so much of this trip semi- to fully unconscious while hunched over a desperately needed sick bag—that he had any way to help. It might not have worked but back in Minneapolis, Sokka had tried so hard to distract Zuko by hoping to get Zuko to laugh at him in telling Zuko about the time he was sent home early from school for fainting in health class when they were going over human birth, but Zuko never did laugh and it didn’t make it any better that they both knew nothing about these situations are the same.

He loves Sokka so much for all of his effort, though. He loves Sokka so much all the time, and this has only made Zuko love him more. And he hates that he doesn’t even know how to make an effort for Sokka. He hates that Sokka deserves the fucking world, that Sokka deserves someone who can aid his pain, and Zuko can’t do shit.

Sokka is grateful to Zuko for just holding him while he cries, for shielding him from the public to the best of his abilities, and for not insulting him with empty platitudes. He knows Zuko better than that, than to imagine he would ever dare to throw out some sort of bullshit, cringy cliché that would help no one and typically only exists to make the person saying it feel better, but he’s glad nothing of the sort comes.

“Thank you,” Sokka murmurs into Zuko’s shirt after a good fifteen or twenty minutes of staying just like this, crying and shaking and just burying his head into his fiancé so hard he’d be burrowing if he could.

And he can feel the light twitches of Zuko’s fingertips, the tiniest little hitches of his wrist that Sokka knows means he’s nic-fitting.

Sokka feels a little guilty that Zuko is going through that just for him, when Zuko is already going through so much physical hell as it is, but he doesn’t say anything because he can’t. He wouldn’t let Zuko wander out alone for a cigarette in Minneapolis and he sure as anything wouldn’t now, either, and Zuko has to know that. And if Zuko asked Sokka to accompany him, god knows Sokka would try, but he fears he might shatter completely the very second he crossed through the door if they went. Zuko doesn’t have to tell Sokka why he’s dealing with the urge without attempting to do anything about it, and for once Sokka is not going to argue but be appreciative of the understanding and support.

It does help, too, though, that Zuko not bringing it up means Sokka doesn’t have to either. It helps that it’s left unspoken.

Eventually Sokka decides they need to follow Katara’s advice for Zuko and they make their way to that little shop he told her he could see. Zuko struggles to walk and Sokka tells him to lean on him, but Zuko adamantly refuses when Sokka’s knee twists only a few steps in.

Zuko can see the swelling even through those beautifully tight jeans, and he thinks to himself how much worse it might be without them, that they may actually be serving as compression and inadvertently assisting him in his flare. The way he moves it tells Zuko how bad Sokka’s shoulder is acting up, as well, but of course he doesn’t say anything about it and Zuko isn’t going to press him on it when he has enough going on simply by the merit of having to temporarily exist in this particular airport in this particular city.

So they both move so woefully slowly but they have plenty of time to kill, meaning it can be okay (because it doesn’t matter, anyway, it has to be okay either way).

They do take the time to look for those socks Katara advised, but aren’t surprised there are none to be found. Sokka grabs a few packets of sample-size naproxen and ibuprofen for himself while Zuko is picking up his meclizine, though, and Zuko is proud of Sokka for doing that without having it brought up. Sokka picks up an iced coffee while Zuko selects Gatorade flavors, and after they pay Sokka uses it to down four of the ibuprofen. Zuko doesn’t speak up about it because it might be more than the recommended over-the-counter dosage but it is equivalent to a prescription dose and Sokka probably should be on something for his arthritis, anyway. Zuko hopes it will ease the ache somewhat, and maybe if it does this can get him to start the conversation of going to a rheumatologist for more help.

Zuko also grabs a bottle of Diet Coke for the small extra hit of caffeine—helpful for headaches and low blood pressure, without being enough to risk triggering making something worse—and pops a couple of those antiemetics with it. (The first time Sokka saw Zuko with one he tried to tease him about the diet part, but that was before his mom resurfaced and it’s what she always drank, so he likes it because it reminds him of her; although why a diet beverage was her soft drink of choice is something he’s tried not to think about too much, having suspected all along Ozai had something to do with it).

They head closer to where they need to be whenever it’s time for boarding their flight to Anchorage, even though they yet have about an hour remaining, and Zuko seems to be holding up a teeny tiny bit better after that seventy milligrams of caffeine and fifty milligrams of meclizine, plus the handful of salted cashews he’s been picking at and the one full bottle of Gatorade he chugged like it was nothing. Sokka continues waiting for him to collapse at any given moment, but he manages to wait until they hit some chairs in the area they settle in for the remainder of their wait, landing on it hard but still walking well enough beforehand.

He offers Sokka one of his Ativan, and is shocked Sokka accepts it.

“I’m proud of you,” he says, and Sokka starts crying again. But it’s alright, because Zuko tells him it’s alright, and he trusts Zuko so he wants to believe him.

And thank god they don’t have to repeat this coming home. No, their return path sees them from IGG to AKN to ANC to ORD to BSS, replacing Seattle and Minneapolis with Chicago. Which makes for slightly longer flights between Anchorage and Ba Sing Se, but Zuko couldn’t care less, even if every piece of Katara’s suggestions and professional opinion in the world can’t stop him from getting this sick again, he does not fucking care. Anything to keep Sokka out of Seattle.

***

Having never taken it before, Zuko’s lorazepam totally knocks Sokka on his ass. He relaxes substantially once it kicks in, despite being in Seattle a little while longer. At go time he groggily moves through security and crashes the moment they find their seats on the plane, then sleeps the whole way to Anchorage. He trudges through their other last two check-ins and flights in the same manner, barely aware of any of it.

Zuko doesn’t have a great time the rest of the way, but he manages to only throw up once en route to Anchorage and not again after, and he’s still lightheaded in the air but he doesn’t pass out. He was so dehydrated beforehand that rapidly downing four Gatorades in Seattle did not equal getting up for a single bathroom break, which he was fairly nervous about and is pleased wasn’t necessary, even if that does only serve as just one more testament to the miserable failings of his body.

He holds Sokka’s hand while he sleeps, and Sokka squeezes back even then.

Despite everything, Zuko is certain he is the luckiest person in the history of the world.

***

Alaska.

Igiugig, Alaska, to be precise. Through much of the southern part of the large state, after Anchorage and King Salmon, it’s Sokka’s hometown.

At long last, they have arrived.

Home, sweet home.

And good lord does Sokka’s face light up the second they set foot outside the Igiugig Airport. He looks so fucking happy, smiling wide and gleefully shouting in Yup’ik, and going so far as to hug a welcome sign, and Zuko no longers cares about anything else. He might feel like absolute shit, but he takes one look at Sokka and suddenly nothing else matters.

Chapter Text

Sokka is in pain.

Sokka is in so much fucking pain.

But he’s home, and he’s here with Zuko, and he is so happy even when he’s so sore and sad.

They had arrived at the house in the early evening, and Hakoda and Bato immediately sent Zuko and Sokka to bed. Sokka scoffed and told them he’s not a kid anymore and they can’t just send him to his room. Sokka argued but Zuko…didn’t. He apologized profusely but did not try to claim he could handle interacting, and that was enough for Sokka. Zuko did insist on cleaning himself up first, but he fell asleep as soon as he hit the bed in the small guest room on permanent reserve for Sokka and Katara.

Although Gran Gran was probably a little confused by the only first-day introduction she received being a shaky, “Hello. Zuko here. It’s really nice to meet you, I’m so sorry.”

Zuko washed his face, brushed his teeth, and changed his clothes: the most important tasks, for obvious reasons. But after he was no longer concerned about smelling, he found himself in no position to convincingly feign the capacity to socialize. The trip, meeting a new important person for two seconds, and doing the bare minimum for hiding the effects of flying on him was all he had in him.

He’s not here to perform. He’s here to share in the place closest to Sokka’s heart, and to spend more time with and better get to know and not fear his future fathers-in-law, both of whom he does love dearly. He isn’t here to put on a show.

He’s not performing, at all.

He’s not masking.

In that he’s treating Hakoda and Bato, and to a less direct extent Kanna, the same way he treats Sokka, or the same as Iroh and Toph.

He feels that safe here, even if he’s still struggling against his trauma and anxiety with them. But he lets his guard down instinctively, more than he even can with Katara or Suki or Haru or Teo or Aang or…

He lets his guard down instinctively, because deep down he knows: he is among family.

(Things might even change with Katara after they get back. Zuko lets her in as much as anyone outside of Iroh, Toph, Mai, Ty Lee, and Sokka, but never all the way. But she’s Sokka’s family, which makes her Zuko’s family, too, even more than the found family the rest of his friends are.)

Hakoda and Bato noted to each other, after their son and future son-in-law had been in their room for a while, that both of them looked a lot worse for the wear. They both remember Sokka mentioning Zuko having health problems aside from vision and hearing loss, but he didn’t elaborate so they don’t actually understand anything about what that means. They can guess enough that it’s somehow related to his state, but don’t know where to start guessing with Sokka.

(They weren’t given the detailed itinerary, they didn’t know where Sokka had been. And for as tempting as it may have been, Katara didn’t call them to spill. She wasn’t finished worrying, but she wouldn’t betray Sokka’s trust like that.)

Hakoda and Bato quietly speculated between themselves a while longer, and were then interrupted by Kanna, looking up from her sewing. “That’s some scar that kid’s got.”

Neither of them replied. Kanna has always been inclined to read people easily and accurately—a product of her years of experience, she says, although Hakoda suspects it’s more along the lines of the past trauma of an abusive first marriage having ingrained the skill into her for her survival—and it wasn’t anything about Zuko himself that made the scar stand out. It was how Hakoda engaged with him. He told Sokka he needed to get some rest, but made a gentle suggestion of it to Zuko in a soft, even tone, and made sure to tell him four different times that it was up to him but no one would be offended by or upset about it.

Katara had brought Aang here once before, and Hakoda had never treated him so much differently—so delicately. So that’s something, and Hakoda and Bato’s silence following her comment spoke volumes.

Eventually, Bato said coldly, “Yes. It is.”

Hakoda only sighed.

But at least Sokka and Zuko were sleeping peacefully. Not that Hakoda, eternally Dad no matter how old his children get (or how guilty he still feels for missing the few years of their lives he was gone, and how undeserving he can believe that makes him), had peeked in to check or anything.

Zuko had barely kept up the strength to take his meds. Sokka had to remind him, the Ativan having worn off enough to provide him the level of functionality needed to remember, himself. There was not one measly spoon left between them, and Sokka didn’t even change before crawling in next to Zuko, who was fading fast.

Sokka moved in behind him and stretched out to hold him, but being mostly asleep didn’t prevent Zuko from hearing Sokka’s shoulder crack as obscenely as Zuko’s do. He’d instantly flipped over in response to the sound and wrapped his arms around Sokka instead. Sokka wanted to fight that, too, but the shoulder continued clicking as he adjusted and his knee was still killing him, and he didn’t want to disturb Zuko after he fell asleep completely as soon as they’d changed positions.

You’re allowed to accept help. Now you get to tell Dr. Guo that you accepted help.

(Not accepting help from Katara at Sea-Tac doesn’t count. That’s just different, okay.)

And he was comfortable, and he was yet pretty tired from what lorazepam was left lingering in his system.

Falling asleep in Zuko’s arms in his childhood home…he couldn’t put words to that magic if he tried. No haiku (another creative hobby of his, but one even Zuko hasn’t yet been let in on) could ever capture this emotion.

***

They wake up just before noon, and it takes them nearly another half hour to get out of bed. When they do, it’s on Zuko’s insistence.

“Good morning, Starlight,” he says when he first opens his eyes shortly after Sokka, a reference to a musical Noriko has always loved. (The original line being “good morning, starshine,” and Zuko hates to admit that he thinks it, but he considers that with their recent new nicknames, that could be another “ship name” for them. Toph and Suki, the primary yet far from only culprits, have been terrible influences. And he stops a brief moment none of them need ever gain the satisfaction of learning about to wonder if Mai or June could craft a cocktail out of that like they did “Zukka.”)

Sokka’s heart is bursting.

He hasn’t figured out if he wants to take Zuko for a walk along the shore, though. Part of him does, part of him longs to show Zuko what had once been such a place, such an act of comfort. But the thought of going with another partner, much less another traumatized and mentally ill partner, makes his throat constrict.

Zuko most likely will see the river in some manner, as there is no fucking way Hakoda and Bato aren’t going to take them out on a boat around Lake Iliamna, and of course Sokka is eager as ever to get up to date on and even just to see the Igiugig Hydrokinetic Project and RivGen Power System in the upper Kvichak River, but…

He doesn’t have to make any final decisions yet. He can figure it out later.

When they enter the living room, Zuko is surprised to hear his own voice reciting words he can vaguely recall the source of: they’re watching a recording of Long Day’s Journey into Night, which Sokka had brought them by request, and Kanna is deeply invested.

Somehow, Zuko isn’t made uncomfortable by it.

Zuko does not particularly want to watch along, himself, and hearing his voice as Edmund again truly sounds like someone else to him now, someone he no longer knows. But Sokka told him how much Gran Gran wanted to see it, and it wasn’t like it hadn’t been recorded, so they easily secured a copy to bring to her.

It’s late, Sokka and Zuko realize at almost the same time, considering the time change. Their current time zone is four hours behind what they’re used to—they haven’t been awake long but in Ba Sing Se it’s going on 5:00pm.

Good thing they’re not in Ba Sing Se, then.