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Summary
[“It is a good thing to have, armor,” Uncle murmurs, shaking his head as he looks at the damage to the backplate that was probably from…the third time going through a wall, maybe, and Zuko knows he’s concussed when he nearly responds you have no idea out loud before managing to yank that thought back, too.
Zuko knows all about plausible deniability, after all.]
OR,
Zuko keeps meeting the warrior again and again. Keeps crashing into the warrior. Literally, sometimes.
And he knows he should be focusing on the Avatar, on regaining his honor, on what he's supposed to do. But from Kyoshi Island to the Earth Kingdom flats to Ba sing Se, somehow Sok—somehow the warrior is always there. Masked and hooded, fighting and grappling, straining for position, sometimes the only touch Zuko knows until he has it again.
Which is the only reason Zuko can’t stop thinking about it, of course. The only reason he can't get it out of his head. The only reason he can't stop wondering how much further they can go and still call what they're doing fighting.