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caldera city, autumn, 103AG
There's someone in Zuko's spot.
This is a problem. This is a very big problem, because Zuko is stressed. He's only nineteen and the ruler of a nation, and lately there's been a rise in rebellions, and the colonies are beginning to demand their own leadership and Minister Wu just won't shut up about him getting married—
Okay. Okay. Deep breaths.
The point is, Zuko's stressed. And when Zuko's stressed, he likes to go to the turtleduck pond, because there's almost never anybody there. Except now there is someone there, and Zuko can't relax if there's someone else in the garden with him, and oh gods he's going to have to find a new spot isn't he—
Wait.
The person in the garden is wearing blue.
All the panic goes right out of Zuko's body so quickly it's a miracle he doesn't just collapse on the floor. Instead, he quietly makes his way towards the turtleduck pond, and towards the person sitting at the bank. If he's careful enough, he won't get noticed until he's close enough to lean right in and say—
"Hello, Sokka," he says, and Sokka just about jumps out of his skin.
"What the fuck?" Sokka screeches, spinning around and—okay, Zuko wasn't expecting him to be holding a knife. He was not expecting the knife. He throws his hands up and stares at Sokka, who's breathing kind of heavy and looking kind of panicked and...yeah, okay, maybe sneaking up on him wasn't the best decision.
"Oh my gods," Sokka says weakly, dropping his arm. Zuko notes the knife—it's not one that he's seen Sokka use before. Its blade is slightly thinner than usual, its hilt wrapped in leather. In Sokka's other hand is something blue and grey. "Zuko, you asshole."
"I could have you arrested for saying that," Zuko says mildly. Sokka huffs out a shaky laugh, then plops back down on the grass. Zuko follows suit a little more gracefully, folding his legs beneath him and watching the turtleducks swim on the other side of the pond.
"So." Sokka leans back on his hands and tilts his head towards Zuko. As the official Southern Water Tribe Ambassador, he should really be sitting like—well, like an ambassador, and not like a housecat napping in the sun. But then again, it's just him and Zuko here, so it's not like anyone cares. "What brings you here, your royal fieriness?"
"Har-har," Zuko says dryly. He glances down at the space between them; there's a pile of stones on the grass, all of them in varying states of destruction. "I was just stressed. What are you doing here? And with that?" He gestures at the stone pile, and the leather-hilted knife in Sokka's hand. Sokka lights up.
"Oh! Actually, you came just in time!" Sokka bolts upright and thrusts the blue-and-grey thing at him. "C'mon, tell me if this is any good!"
Zuko nearly goes cross-eyed trying to get a look of the thing Sokka’s just shoved in his face. He reaches up and pushes at Sokka’s wrist until he moves his hand back, and Zuko finally gets to see the thing in its entirety.
The ‘thing’ in question is a roughly-cut stone, attached to a length of blue leather with a simple steel clasp. Zuko looks up at Sokka. “What is this?”
Sokka grins. “It’s a betrothal necklace!”
Zuko chokes on his own spit.
"A what?" he gasps out. Agni, a—a betrothal necklace? Sokka and Suki have only been broken up for two months. Surely Sokka can't have found someone new—much less someone he wants to marry—in that short a time frame, right? Or... "Did you and Suki get back together?"
Sokka gives him a weird look. "What? No, of course not. We both agreed we were better off as friends, remember?" He rolls his eyes at Zuko's apparently hopeless memory. "Anyway, you didn't answer my question. How's it look?"
"Uh." Like a mess, Zuko wants to say. The stone pendant of the necklace is...well, it's something. "Fine. It looks fine."
Sokka clicks his tongue critically. "Really?" He pulls the necklace back, studying it the way a professor studies his craft. "I dunno, I think the fish looks a little lumpy."
There's meant to be a fish? Zuko thinks, and bites his tongue. He's still reeling from the fact that Sokka is carving a betrothal necklace, and he doesn't even know who for. Does the Southern Tribe still do arranged marriages? Is that a thing? Because at this point, an arranged marriage is the only explanation he can think of.
"It's...lovely," he forces out. He can't even bring himself to feel bad about lying, not when Sokka beams like Zuko's just given him all he's ever wanted. "I'm sure your partner will love it?"
Sokka freezes. "My what?"
"Uh." Zuko raises his brow and gestures at the necklace. "Your partner? Your betrothed? The person you're going to give this to?"
"You—you think I'm going to—?" Sokka wheezes and doubles over like he's just been kicked in the stomach. Zuko yelps and grabs at his shoulders, because Sokka looks and sounds like he's dying and if Zuko's just killed his best friend he will not forgive himself, ever. It's only when he gets a good look at Sokka's face that he realises:
Sokka's laughing.
Zuko lets go of him abruptly, and Sokka drops to the ground like a sack of potatoes. He lies there, still laughing, hands clutching at his stomach.
"You're dead to me," Zuko proclaims. "Go ahead. Die."
"You—" Sokka lets out another sound that's all too similar to the wheeze of a dying ostrich-horse. "You think I'm getting married?"
"Well, now I don't," Zuko grumbles. "Obviously."
Sokka slowly pushes himself upright. He's still grinning from ear to ear, wiping tears from his eyes. "Zuko, this—" He shakes the betrothal necklace in his hand. "—isn't for anyone. It's just practice."
"Practice," Zuko echoes. For what?
"Uh huh," Sokka says, tossing the necklace in the air. "Dad wants to bring back some parts of our culture. We kind of lost a lot of it when, uh..." He catches the necklace again. The rest of his sentence goes unsaid: when your nation started raiding us and killing our people.
A lump rises in Zuko's throat. "Yeah. I know."
"Anyway!" Sokka leans forward so that he's sitting on the ground, hands braced on his knees. "The betrothal necklace was one of the first things to go. You needed stone and leather to make them, but you also needed stone and leather to make weapons and armour, and you can tell which one was more important." Sokka shrugs. "But the war's over now, and the Northern Tribe never stopped making the necklaces, so now it's just...slowly coming back. Dad wants me to learn how to make one just in case."
"Huh." The thought of Sokka carving a betrothal necklace for some faceless, nameless stranger makes Zuko feel like he's just eaten stewed sea prunes, a bitter aftertaste clinging to his mouth. "So the one you've got now..." He waves a hand at the necklace. "Is just, what—an experiment?"
Sokka hums an affirmation, sticking out his hand in a wordless request. Zuko ignores the weird feeling of relief he gets at the confirmation and obliges, reaching down so he can pull Sokka up off the ground—
Sokka's hand closes around his forearm and pulls, yanking Zuko forward so hard that he's swept right off his feet. Zuko lets out a string of swears so filthy he's glad no one can hear him but Sokka—Sokka, the traitor, who's laughing uproariously as Zuko lands face-first in the dirt.
"Let me reiterate," Zuko says, his voice muffled by the grass. "You are dead. To. Me."
Sokka just keeps laughing.
ba sing se, summer, 104AG
Sokka comes back from the South Pole with a temper to rival that of Zuko's sixteen-year-old self.
"That bastard!" he shouts by way of greeting, storming right off the monorail.
"Hello to you too, Sokka," Zuko says. "It's nice to see you."
"You know who it's not nice to see?" Sokka rages, throwing up his hands. The other people on the monorail platform are beginning to stare. "That fucking rat!"
"Wow," Toph says, sounding impressed. "Someone really got under your skin, huh?"
"Oh, he did more than get under my skin," Sokka growls. He pulls out his leather-hilted knife and passes it from hand to hand, like it's a stress reliever instead of a literal weapon. "He got right into my gods-damned bones!"
Toph lets out a low whistle. She leans over to Suki and stage-whispers, "I don't think I've ever seen him this mad."
"Me neither," Suki whispers back. Sokka doesn't notice them; he's too busy ranting about something involving symbols and meanings and—creativity? Truth be told, Zuko doesn't catch any of it. Sokka's speaking way too fast for him to pick up on a single word.
Suki coughs. While she's here as Sokka's friend, she is also technically Zuko's security detail. "Should we get in the carriage?"
"Let's," Zuko agrees. They both grab one of Sokka's arms and bodily drag him into the nondescript carriage that's waiting to take them to the townhouse they're staying in. Toph follows, looking entirely too delighted at Sokka's newfound rage.
The trip to the townhouse is equal parts amusing and vaguely terrifying. It's amusing because Sokka won't stop mouthing off about whatever it is he's mad about, and it's vaguely terrifying because...well, because Sokka won't stop mouthing off about whatever it is he's mad about. Also, it's a little weird to be sitting in a carriage with his crush, his crush's ex who is also his best friend, and Toph. By the time they get off, Zuko's seriously considering asking Suki to knock Sokka out with some chi-blocking just to get some peace.
As it turns out, that's not necessary. The second the carriage rumbles to a stop, Sokka bolts out the doors. Zuko and Suki share a dumbfounded look and follow him outside, Toph trailing behind them.
Sokka's sitting cross-legged in the garden, muttering to himself as he hunches over something. His pack lies forgotten beside him. Zuko peers over his shoulder to find that Sokka's picked up one of the many smooth white stones that make up the garden path, and that he's...hacking it apart with his leather-handled knife?
"Sokka," Suki says slowly, "are you making a betrothal necklace?"
Sokka—Sokka nods.
It's like ice water has been poured down Zuko's back. Sokka's not hacking the stone apart, he's carving it. Zuko leans a little further, and—there, on Sokka's knee, is an unmistakable strip of blue leather.
He sucks in a sharp breath. So. It's finally happened: Sokka went to the South Pole, and he's obviously fallen in love.
Suki puts a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. He knows she's trying to make him feel better, but it only makes things worse—he hasn't exactly been subtle about his crush on Sokka, and he does not want to deal with the others' pity right now.
"Uh, Toph?" Suki sounds like she's very far away. Her hand slips away from Zuko's shoulder. "Maybe we should go."
"Yeah," Toph agrees, uncharacteristically obedient. Spirits, even Toph is pitying him. This is horrible. "Let's go."
The two girls start walking up towards the townhouse. Zuko should really go with them—he doesn't think he can stand to watch Sokka carving a betrothal necklace for someone else, but...
But he needs to know who.
He clears his throat. Sokka's so focused, he doesn't even look up.
"So," Zuko says. His voice is a little raspier than normal. "Um. Who's it for?"
"Gran-Gran," Sokka says, completely seriously.
Zuko blinks.
"Um," he says, because there is no way he heard that right. "I meant, who's the necklace for?"
"I told you," Sokka says, blowing a strand of hair out of his face. "It's for Gran-Gran."
"Gran-Gran," Zuko repeats slowly. "Gran-Gran. Your grandmother."
"Yep." Sokka lifts the pendant up to eye level and studies it.
"You're...marrying your grandmother?"
Sokka chokes and drops the pendant. It lands on the earth with a soft thud. "What? No! What the fuck?"
"I don't know!" Zuko throws up his hands. "You're carving a betrothal necklace, and you said it was for Gran-Gran, and—"
"Oh, spirits," Sokka says, dragging a hand down his face. He reaches out and picks up the pendant again, dusting it off. "Zuko, I'm not marrying Gran-Gran. I'm just making her a new necklace 'cause the one she's got now is shit."
Zuko opens his mouth. Closes it again. Tries not to let the relief show. "...You can do that? Replace someone's necklace?"
"Oh, absolutely not," Sokka says casually, turning back to the pendant. "But if Pakku wants to throw a fit about it, let him. He's the one who made Gran-Gran an unoriginal necklace with the symbol of the fucking Water Tribe. The Water Tribe! Could he get any more uncreative?"
"...No?" Zuko's not sure what he's meant to say here, but 'no' seems to be the right answer. Sokka nods so hard his wolf-tail looks like it's in serious danger of coming undone.
"Exactly!" He throws out his hands. Zuko sidesteps to avoid getting his calf impaled by the knife. "So obviously, I saw it, and I was like 'Gran-Gran! That's such a bad necklace!' And she was like 'I know, but it's the only one I've got', so I was like 'okay then, I'll make you one, and it'll be with a stone from the Earth Kingdom, too', and then she gave me extra seal jerky so I don't think she's mad. Anyway, shoo, I thought up this design on the trip here and if I don't get it done now I'll forget it forever." He waves Zuko off with the knife, turning his full focus back to the pendant. Zuko blinks and does as he's told, walking up to the townhouse with the distinct feeling of having just walked through a hurricane.
Before he can open it, the door swings open. Suki's standing there, a cup of tea in hand.
"Look," she begins, "I know you're probably feeling really bad right now, and I'm no Iroh, but I made you this anyway and please don't yell at me—"
"Suki," Zuko interrupts. She falls silent, watching him anxiously. He can't help the faint smile that breaks out across his face. "The necklace is for Gran-Gran."
Suki's jaw drops. "Gran-Gran?"
"Gran-Gran," Zuko confirms, stepping inside the townhouse. "Apparently the necklace her new husband gave her is really bad, so Sokka's making her a new one. It's got nothing to do with him."
Suki gapes at him for a second, then grins. "Zuko, that's—that's great!" They're not really the hugging type, so she settles for a brief squeeze on his upper arm. "Seriously, though, I was worried for a second there."
"You shouldn't have been," Toph calls. Zuko cranes his head and sees her, lounging on the couch in the living room. "I wasn't."
"What's that meant to mean?" Zuko demands. Toph just snickers. When he looks to Suki for answers, she just shakes her head.
"If you still haven't figured it out by now," she says, patting him on the shoulder, "then I'm not going to be the one to tell you." She sidesteps him and breezes into the kitchen, leaving Zuko in the hallway.
He stands there for a second, trying to wrap his head around whatever she's just said. Toph clicks her tongue and says, "Wow, Sparky. Wow. You really are dense."
"Shut up, Toph," he says absently, and waves the thought aside. Oh, well. It's probably not important.
south pole, winter, 105AG
The South Pole is cold.
And, yes, Zuko knows it's meant to be cold. It's the South Pole, for Agni's sake. But he's still not prepared for the complete and utter bone-gnawing chill that seems to get into anything and everything.
In retrospect, taking a trip here with Sokka in the middle of winter was perhaps not the best idea.
Zuko's one saving grace is the firepit. It's a huge basin of coal and wood in the centre of the city square, and Zuko would be lying if he said he didn't practically spend all his days there. Today is different, though—today, Sokka's promised to show him how to properly roast seal sausages over the coals, and Zuko's not exactly excited, but he's not opposed to more time with his boyfriend.
Now, if only he could just find his boyfriend. Zuko's already checked the armoury, and the stables, and the seal jerky stall that he knows Sokka spends half his money on. Which leaves only one more choice: Sokka's actual house, which he almost never spends time in.
Nevertheless, Zuko makes a beeline for it anyway. He doesn't bother knocking; he just steps inside the house with a quiet, "Hello?"
Someone swears. There's the sound of frantic movement, and then the clanging of something metal being knocked over.
Well. At least Zuko knows where Sokka is.
He rounds the corner, preparing himself for the sight of his boyfriend probably tangled up in some bizarre mechanical project, and...is decidedly not met with that sight.
No—instead, he's met with Hakoda and Sokka, both crouched on the floor with their hands conspicuously held behind their backs. The leather-wrapped hilt of Sokka's knife is poking out behind his boot. Between the two men, there's a pile of—is that stone? Stone shavings?
Agni, Zuko's never been more confused in his life.
“Zuko!” Sokka squeaks out. “Zuko, hey. Hey, Zuko.”
“...Hello?” Zuko frowns at his boyfriend. He doesn’t miss the way Sokka sends his father a panicked look, or the fact that Hakoda looks just as guilty as his son. They’re like two kids who got caught with their hands in the mochi. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing!” Sokka yelps. “Um—we were—” He glances at the pile of stone shavings on the floor. “Whittling?”
“You were, were you?” Zuko raises his brow. He knows full well that Sokka and his father weren’t whittling, but it’s fun to watch Sokka squirm.
“Yes,” Sokka says, entirely unconvincingly. “We were whittling. A knife. For hunting.”
Hakoda slaps a hand to his forehead. Zuko sympathises.
“Just tell him,” Hakoda says wearily. “You’re not doing us any favours here.”
Sokka sticks his tongue out at his father, but brings his hands out from behind his back anyway. He’s holding something thin and dark blue, something that hangs between his hands like an acrobat’s tightrope, something that looks an awful lot like—
Zuko’s heart stops.
“We were making a betrothal necklace,” Sokka says sheepishly, holding it up. The necklace clearly isn’t finished, but it’s beautiful nonetheless—Zuko can pick out an intricate design that seems to resemble a fleet of ships. Except it’s a betrothal necklace, and Sokka had clearly been trying to hide it from Zuko, which...all points towards a very awkward conclusion.
“Um.” Zuko takes a step back, heat prickling up his neck. Now? This soon? Agni above, he’s barely past his twenty-first birthday. “Um.”
Sokka’s eyes widen. “Wait—oh, spirits, no!” He jerks a frantic thumb at his father. “It’s Dad’s! The necklace, I mean. Dad’s gonna propose to Bato!”
Just like that, Zuko can breathe again. He presses a hand to his chest; spirits, his heart is still erratic. “Oh,” he breathes, very quietly. “That’s—um. That’s nice?”
Hakoda rubs the back of his neck. He looks more embarrassed than Zuko’s ever seen him, glancing between the floor and his son’s hands, a dark flush spreading over his cheeks.
It’s then that Zuko realises that he’s suddenly been faced with the situation of having just accidentally found out that his boyfriend’s dad is planning to propose. Which is...not exactly a situation that he can say he was prepared for. Spirits, what is he meant to say?
Congratulations works, right? That’s a thing that people say?
“Congratulations, Chief Hakoda,” Zuko tries, and Hakoda flushes even darker. “I’m...sure he’ll say yes?”
Hakoda clears his throat. “Thank you, Zuko.” The expression that he makes next is probably meant to be a smile, but it really looks more like a grimace. “I appreciate it.”
“Uh. Yes. Right.” Zuko rocks back on his heels. The awkwardness in the room is a near-physical thing, heavy and suffocating. Zuko resists the urge to say something just to fill the silence.
Next to Hakoda, Sokka is giving Zuko some very obvious cues, widening his eyes and jerking his chin towards the hallway. Zuko, for all his obliviousness, isn’t completely stupid, and he knows when to take a hint.
So he bows and shuffles out of the house, breathing a sigh of relief once he’s out in the open air. He casts a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Bato isn’t anywhere nearby, then starts trudging towards the firepit. He can ask Sokka to join him later; for now, he’s content to sit there by himself.
-
Two days later, when Hakoda and Bato quietly slip away on a hunting trip, Zuko shares a knowing look with Sokka. When they return, both grinning like madmen, there’s a dark blue necklace clasped tight around Bato’s neck.
ember island, spring, 106AG
Zuko can’t sleep.
Usually, he'd chalk that up to the sticky heat of Ember Island. But it's not even summer yet, and the windows are thrown wide open, and quite frankly Zuko's always had a high tolerance for heat. Besides, he knows the real reason for his restlessness isn't the climate.
The real reason for his restlessness is Sokka and Aang.
They probably think they're being subtle, but they're really not. Zuko can hear them, whispering to each other outside. Either they don't know the meaning of 'staying quiet so that the rest of us can get some sleep', or they're right outside Zuko's window.
Okay. It's fine. He can deal with whispering. He spent three years on a creaky metal ship that had constant noise coming from all sides. He's fine.
...Except even creaky metal ships have the courtesy to actually shut up once in a while. Sokka and Aang, on the other hand, do not.
It's when the unmistakable sound of a scraping knife joins the fray that Zuko finally decides he's had enough. He flings the sheets off him and stomps to the window (quietly, of course, because unlike some people he knows that being loud will wake up anybody sleeping nearby), then yanks aside the curtains and sticks his head out.
“What on earth are you two—”
The words die in his throat.
Sitting cross-legged on the ground like two rabaroos caught in torchlight are Aang and Sokka. Aang immediately jumps to his feet, shoving his hands behind his back, but Sokka just lets out a laugh and tugs on Aang’s wrist.
“Aang, buddy,” he says, “it’s just Zuko.”
"R-right," Aang stammers. He still doesn't sit down.
Zuko takes in the scene. Aang and Sokka are both dressed in sleepwear, which on Ember Island means that they're wearing nothing but pyjama pants. (Nice, Zuko's brain supplies at the sight of Sokka's bare torso, and he promptly decides that brains shouldn't be allowed to have an opinion.) Between them lies a small pile of white strips, all curled together like...like...
Zuko catches sight of the strip of blue leather dangling from Aang's hand, and everything clicks into place.
"Aang," he says, "I cannot believe you."
Aang, for his part, looks genuinely confused. "What?"
Zuko frowns down at him. "Really? You didn't think it was important enough to tell me that you're planning on—"
"Don't say it!" Aang yelps, catching on. "What if she hears you?"
"If Katara could hear me, she would've heard the two of you hours ago," Zuko says frankly. "You're not exactly quiet."
"Neither are you, jerkbender," Sokka says, with a wink that leaves no qualms about what he's implying. Zuko refuses to rise to the bait, even as Aang lets out a mortified squeak and buries his face in his hands.
"Please, please never say that again," Aang moans. "I'm already stressed enough as it is."
Zuko crosses his arms. Now that he knows exactly what he's looking at, he can see the flat white stones that both Sokka and Aang are holding, and the familiar leather-hilted knife that's currently lying by Sokka's knee. Actually, the stone that Aang is holding is shaped a lot like a...
"Agni above," Zuko says disbelievingly. "Aang, did you carve that in the shape of a bison whistle?"
"It was the only thing I knew how to do!" Aang wails. Sokka lunges forward and slaps his hand over Aang's mouth before he can wake up the whole house.
"Aang, oh my gods," Sokka hisses. "If you keep this up, Katara'll end up carving her own betrothal necklace!"
"Sorry," Aang mumbles. "I'm just—"
"Stressed," Zuko and Sokka say at the same time. Aang blinks at them both.
"Uh, yeah," he says, and Zuko sighs. Clearly, the two of them need some intervention.
"I'm coming down there," he warns, and swings his leg over the windowsill. In a few short jumps, he's standing in front of Aang and Sokka, brushing dirt off his pants.
"You know," Sokka says, "the stairs exist. For normal people."
"If you wanted to meet normal people, you wouldn't have run off with the Avatar," Zuko retorts. He drops down and snatches the bison whistle out of Aang's hand, ignoring the 'hey!' that comes with it.
"First of all," he says, "I'm still offended that you didn't tell me you were planning to propose. Second of all, do you have any idea what kind of jewelry Katara likes?"
Aang deflates. Zuko feels a little bad about it, but sometimes Aang does need to have sense slapped into him. "Um. Kind of?"
"Define 'kind of.'"
"He means no," Sokka interrupts, before Aang can inevitably say something like 'shiny stuff?' "Which is why he got me, also known as Katara's literal brother, to help."
"You don't know anything about her jewelry," Zuko tells him without preamble. Sokka splutters.
"I do too! She has that ring that Aang bought her, and that pair of earrings Suki gave her for her birthday, and—"
"Yeah, that's all stuff that she already has," Zuko points out, crossing his arms. "If I told you, right now, to go to the market and pick out a necklace, what kind would you go for?"
"A nice one," Aang says, at the same time that Sokka answers, "Depends on what she's wearing it with."
Zuko pinches his nose. Aang loves Katara with all his heart, that's clear as day, but the boy just does not know how to categorise material possessions. Probably something to do with spending the first decade of his life in a monastery. And Sokka—well, Sokka's both a fashion icon and a fashion disaster, and neither of those things meshes well with the kind of accessories Katara likes.
"Both of you look me in the eye," Zuko says, "and tell me: out of the three of us, which one is the one who's been dragged out to the markets with Suki and Katara more times than they can count?"
Aang and Sokka look at each other, then back at Zuko.
"Um," Aang says. "You?"
"Exactly," Zuko says, and reaches out to take a rock. "Let's get to work."
-
Aang proposes almost a year later, at the start of winter. According to Katara, they’d gone penguin sledding down the biggest hill they could find, and when she turned around he’d been kneeling there with the necklace in his hands.
“It was all very romantic,” she says dreamily at their next group dinner, reaching up to touch her new necklace.
Sokka snorts. “Yeah, I’ll bet,” he says. “Hey, Aang, what was it like to propose while being surrounded by honking penguin-otters?”
Katara throws a spoon at him.
south pole, spring, 107AG
Aang and Katara’s wedding party is in full swing. The happy couple are practically glued at the hip, Aang’s arm apparently permanently slung around Katara’s waist. They’re both grinning and flushed, cheeks red from the dancing and the wine, and Katara’s been unconsciously bending the drinks in everyone’s glasses for the last half hour. Over in the corner, Ty Lee seems to be doing a small juggling act for a group of awed children, while Suki and Mai look like they’re making bets on how long it will be before Ty Lee accidentally picks up an egg instead of an apple. Toph, as always, is breezing through the room, plucking food from people’s plates as she goes.
It’s a happy scene. Zuko can’t help but feel warm and fuzzy inside as he leans against the wall and surveys the room. There’s Bato and Hakoda, watching their newly-married daughter with suspiciously wet eyes. There’s Uncle, laughing with a group of men that Zuko vaguely recognises. There’s King Bumi, his long robes a veritable tripping hazard for anyone standing behind him.
But someone’s missing. Zuko pushes off the wall and deposits his empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter, then goes looking for his boyfriend.
It doesn't take long to find him. Sokka's sitting on one of the balconies that open off from the main hall, his legs dangling over the edge. At first glance, he looks like he's staring out to the sea, but as Zuko comes closer he realises that Sokka's hunched over and staring at something in his lap.
They're not that far from the festivities, but as Zuko steps onto the balcony, it's like he's just entered a bubble where he and Sokka are worlds away. He makes sure to scuff his foot on the floor, so that Sokka knows he's there.
“Hey,” he says softly.
“Hey,” Sokka says back, even softer. He doesn't turn around.
“Your sister’s just gotten married.”
"I know." Sokka's voice is dull. No, not dull; restrained.
"Do you want to come dance, or...?"
Sokka shakes his head. His hair's been braided with traditional beads, and they clink against each other with the movement. "No. No, I...can you come sit? Please?"
Something's wrong. Something's very, very wrong. Zuko hasn't heard Sokka sound this small since that time Gran-Gran had gotten sick and they didn't know if she would make it.
So Zuko moves forward and sits beside him, slotting his legs through the spaces in the balcony railing so that they swing out into open air. Here, the wind is a little colder, a little sharper; Sokka's practically a furnace pressed up against his side, and Zuko turns to look at him.
It’s then that Zuko sees what’s in Sokka’s hands: a familiar necklace, the sash worn from years of use. He slowly shifts a little closer and, when Sokka doesn’t pull away, leans in so close that they’re pressed up together from the tops of their heads to the tips of their toes.
“So,” Zuko says. Despite the general din of the wedding party, his voice still seems unbearably loud. “Your mother’s necklace, huh?”
Sokka makes a sound that could be a laugh or a sob. Zuko wraps his arm around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to Sokka’s hair.
Sokka’s shaking. He’s shaking, badly, like a leaf in a gale, and Zuko’s pretty sure he knows why.
“Katara gave it to me,” Sokka finally says. His voice is hoarse and broken. “She said—that I should have it. That maybe I needed it more than she did.”
Zuko waits. Sokka draws in a shuddering breath, his fingers clenching and unclenching in Zuko’s robes. The distant sound of ocean waves crashing against the shore blurs together with the buzz of the party they left behind.
Sokka turns the necklace over in his palm, stroking one thumb over the likeness of crashing waves. “It’s just—” he starts, and then swallows, like he’s not sure what words to use. “It’s just. This was always Katara’s, y’know? And I don’t...I don’t feel like I have the right to take it.”
Zuko knows that he’s not just talking about the necklace.
“Sometimes,” Sokka whispers, so quietly that Zuko only hears him because his mouth is just under Zuko’s ear, “I forget that she’s my mother, too.”
Zuko turns so he can wrap both his arms around Sokka’s frame, folding Sokka into the cradle of his body. It’s not often that they do this; Zuko’s usually the one who wakes up shaking, who digs his nails into his skin when he thinks he sees Ozai in the mirror. But for all his bravado and blustering, Sokka is still just a man who has his wounds.
“Does that make me a bad son?” Sokka’s voice cracks on the last word. “Katara would never forget her. But I—I can’t even remember what she looks like. Maybe—” His breath hitches, just a little. “Maybe I just didn’t love her the way Katara did.”
Zuko still remembers that day by the cliffs, standing next to the ocean with the smell of an oncoming storm sharp in the air. He still remembers the way Katara had screamed at her brother like she never had before: “Then you didn’t love her the way I did!”
“Sokka,” he says quietly, “look at me, please?”
Sokka shifts a little, craning his neck so that he’s looking up at Zuko. Zuko reaches down and gently, oh-so-gently, takes Kya’s necklace from his hand.
“Of course you didn’t love your mother the way Katara did,” Zuko says, and Sokka recoils. He flinches back like he’s been hit, and Zuko reaches out to cup his face before he can run away. “No, listen to me, that’s not what I meant—I mean that you didn’t love her the way Katara did, because you are not Katara.”
Sokka freezes. His eyes are wide and a little wild. Zuko moves one of his hands from Sokka's cheek to his arm, squeezing his bicep briefly.
"You are not Katara," he repeats. Sokka's tense and strung tight beneath his hands, thrumming like a bowstring about to snap. "You didn't love her the way Katara did. No one can love her the way Katara did. But that doesn't mean that Katara loved her more."
"But—" Sokka flails his hands wildly, grasping at thin air like he'll be able to pull words from the night around them. "But I can't even remember her face. Katara still dreams about her, sometimes, and I—I don't—"
"Sokka," Zuko says, leaning in so that their foreheads bump together. "Listen to me: you are not Katara, and you do not need to be Katara."
Sokka's breathing hard and fast, and Zuko can feel the thump-thump-thump of his hummingbird's heartbeat through the pulse point at his neck. He's not sure where to put his hands, so he just lets them rest on Sokka's shoulders.
"You're enough," he whispers. "You're enough for me, and for her, and for everyone. Trust me, Sokka, you're more than enough."
Sokka squeezes his eyes shut, then, and he tips forward until his forehead is pressed against Zuko's shoulder. Zuko curls around him, pats his hair and murmurs nonsense soothing sounds, as Sokka cries, very quietly, into the gold-threaded cloth of Zuko's formal robes.
Finally, when Sokka's shoulders aren't shaking so badly that they're knocking into Zuko's collarbone every other second, he presses his palm flat against the back of Sokka's neck and says, "Do you want the necklace back?"
Sokka nods. Zuko picks up the necklace and waits as Sokka pulls back, rubs his eyes, composes himself. When Sokka reaches out a trembling hand, Zuko gently places the necklace in his palm and folds his fingers over it.
Sokka is not Katara. He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, much less his late mother’s necklace on his throat. Zuko knows that, after tonight, that necklace will likely never be seen in public again, unless Sokka chooses to give it to someone else. He only hopes that, even if it's only in the light of their private rooms, Sokka will have the courage to look at it and say, this was my mother's necklace.
Sokka lifts his arm a bit, a silent invitation, and Zuko curls up against his side in a stark reversal of their previous position. Sokka's arm settles across his waist like it was always meant to be there. For a long handful of moments, neither of them speaks.
Sokka breaks the silence. He takes a deep breath, one that Zuko can feel rattling in his lungs.
"I don't remember her face," he says quietly, "but I remember her voice."
Zuko nods. He listens to the sound of Sokka's stuttered breathing, to the sound of the waves on the shore. Somewhere far behind them, a cheer goes up from the wedding party.
"And I think," Sokka says haltingly, "there are other things. The smell of her hair. The size of her hands. The way she walked."
Zuko reaches down and wraps Sokka's hand with his own. He can't feel the stone pendant of the necklace, but he can feel the leather band.
"Tell me about her," he says softly.
Sokka does.
caldera city, autumn, 108AG
Zuko's sitting in the garden, quietly finishing his paperwork, when two warm hands slap over his eyes.
"Guess who?" sing-songs a familiar voice. Zuko sighs.
"An assassin," he says flatly. "Come to kill me with his horrible puns and bad jokes."
"Now, that's just not fair," Sokka says, and Zuko can hear the pout in his voice. "C'mon. Real guess."
"Appa," Zuko says, without a single moment's hesitation.
"You suck."
"Thank you. I try."
Sokka hums. "You know I'm not letting you go until you actually say my name, right?"
"Oh, no," Zuko says dryly. "How ever will I be able to guess?" He reaches up and taps Sokka's hand. "Could it be...the cabbage merchant?"
Sokka snorts. "No."
"The tailor?"
"Try again."
"Why, it must be Lee from the tea shop."
"Zuko, I swear to Tui, if you don't say my name right now I'm going to start thinking you actually don't know who I am."
"One last guess," Zuko says, wrapping his hand around Sokka's wrist. "Is it, perhaps...the love of my life?"
A pause. "...Keep going."
"Hm." Zuko traces a circle on Sokka's wrist with his thumb. "Maybe it's the guy I've been in love with since I was nineteen. Or the man who I think might be my soulmate. Or—and I'm just guessing here—it might be the person who I'm pretty sure is the best thing the universe has ever produced."
"That," Sokka says, "was the most romantic thing I've ever heard, you sappy fuck. Now, who exactly is this mysterious man who's stolen your heart?"
Zuko smirks to himself. "Wang Fire, of course."
Sokka smacks him on the shoulder. "You ass!"
Zuko laughs. "Okay, okay. It's you, Sokka. There, I said it."
Sokka finally lets his hands fall away, and Zuko twists around to look at him. He's dressed in casual clothes, his hair tied back in the usual wolf-tail, but there's something new: namely, the picnic basket dangling from his elbow.
"Look alive, your majesty," Sokka says, ducking down to peck Zuko on the lips. "We're going on a little trip."
"We are?" Zuko glances pointedly at the sky. It's nearly sunset; unless they're going to the night market, there's not a whole lot of things for them to do.
Sokka grins. "We're not going far. Now c'mon, up!"
He heaves Zuko to his feet. Zuko's already dressed in casual clothes, which means that all he has to do is watch bemusedly as Sokka fishes out two plain brown cloaks from the depths of the picnic basket and tosses one each over their heads.
"You're ridiculous," Zuko says, as Sokka fixes his hood.
"Yeah, but you love me," Sokka says happily. Zuko opens his mouth, but Sokka stops him with a finger to his lips. "Ah-ah-ah! You just called me the love of your life. No take-backs."
Zuko is twenty-four years old. He is an adult. And, more than that, he's the gods-damned Fire Lord. He likes to think that he's very mature, thank you very much.
Which is why, when he licks the tip of Sokka's finger, he does it very maturely.
"Ew!" Sokka shrieks, wiping his finger on his cloak frantically. "Zu-ko!"
"You asked for it," Zuko says innocently. "Now, are you going to take me on this 'little trip' or not?"
Sokka glares at him, but he links their arms anyway, so he can't actually be mad. Zuko resists the urge to roll his eyes as Sokka drags him down the hallway, then 'sneaks' them out past the guards—"Sokka, they're literally looking the other way as we pass, I know you bribed them for this—" "Shh, do you want to get caught?"—and leads Zuko down to the docks.
There's a little wooden rowboat there, drifting next to the pier. Sokka tosses in the picnic basket and hops in, then raises an eyebrow at Zuko invitingly.
Well. It would be rude to turn down an invitation.
Zuko steps down into the boat. It's smaller than he expected, and the picnic basket between him and Sokka knocks against his knees. Sokka doesn't seem too bothered by it; he picks up the oars and starts rowing them out towards the middle of Caldera Bay, the last of the sunlight fading behind him.
They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, until Zuko's curiosity finally gets the better of him. He leans over the picnic basket, which makes the boat wobble dangerously, and says, "So, this is that 'little trip'?"
"Hush, young pupil," Sokka says. He's still working the oars, his movements strong and steady, and Zuko eyes his arms appreciatively. "We'll get there soon enough."
"There?" Zuko looks around them, but he can't see anything but the land they've just left. Even if there were some kind of tiny island in the bay, it'd be impossible to see in the rapidly darkening dusk. "Where exactly is there?"
"Zuko, serious question here: has anyone ever taught you the meaning of hush?"
Zuko rolls his eyes, but falls silent. It's not like he has anything to talk about, anyway. And even if this is the extent of Sokka's spontaneous trip, he doesn't mind—though he will admit, the view behind Sokka is a little bit boring. Zuko's got his back turned to the land, and all he can see is dark water beneath the night sky.
Finally, Sokka stops, resting the oars in their holds. "Okay," he says, and for a second Zuko thinks he hears a tremble in his voice. "We're here."
Zuko blinks. Okay, so he wasn't expecting their destination to actually be the middle of the bay. Sokka's taken him out on these little trips before, and they were always to these hole-in-the-wall places, little pockets of everyday excitement that Zuko never would've spotted on his own. To row out into Caldera Bay with a picnic basket seems a little...mundane.
"Okay," Zuko says. "So do we just start eating, or...?"
Sokka laughs. He leans forward to grip Zuko by the shoulders, which once again has the boat wobbling beneath them, and gently turns him around.
Zuko's jaw drops.
Caldera City is lit up in the night. It's—it's a blazing tapestry of light, dozens of colours weaving together to form the city that Zuko knows and loves. In the calm waters of the bay, the city is reflected almost perfectly, creating a web of light that Zuko can't believe he's never seen before.
"Oh," he whispers. "Oh."
Sokka doesn't say anything. Zuko can hear him rummaging through the picnic basket, but he can't bring himself to tear his eyes away from the city. It's just—it's so—
"Incredible," Zuko breathes. "It's...it's incredible."
"Yeah," Sokka says. His voice is oddly strained. "Yeah."
Zuko turns around to grin at him, to thank him, to drag him forward until they're both as close to the light as possible, and—
And the world slows down.
Because the picnic basket is open, and it's empty. It's empty because Sokka's just taken out the only thing that was in it, and that thing is...
"Is that—" Zuko already knows it is, but he has to ask. "Is that a—?"
Sokka ducks his head. He's got both his hands laid flat on the picnic basket, his precious cargo laid out across his palms.
"A betrothal necklace," he says softly. Zuko stares at him. "I had this whole speech planned, but...you pretty much said it. Before, when you were guessing who I was." The corner of his mouth lifts slightly. "Zuko, you're the love of my life, the guy I've been in love with since I was nineteen, my probable soulmate, and the best thing that the universe has ever produced. So, that being said—will you marry me?"
Zuko's never been good with words. He's much more a man of action. Right now is no different to all the other times his voice has stuck in his throat, leaving him with nothing but his hands.
So Zuko doesn't use his words. He leans over the picnic basket, seizes Sokka by the front of that stupid cloak, and pulls him in for the fiercest kiss he's ever given in his life.
Except, well—as it turns out, small boats and big actions don't tend to go well together. There's a split second of warning, where they both feel the tilt and know exactly what's going to happen, and then—
The boat capsizes. Zuko tumbles over the side and hits the freezing water with a splash, coming up gasping. He swims around to the side of the bobbing boat and grabs onto one side, relieved to find a dripping wet Sokka already clinging to the other.
"So," Sokka says. He's grinning, bright and warm, and it makes Zuko feel like his entire body is melting from the inside out. The betrothal necklace is still clutched tight in his hand, its stone pendant gleaming in the light from Caldera City. "Was that a yes?"
Zuko leans over the boat as far as he can, until he and Sokka are nearly nose-to-nose. When they're this close, he can see the city reflected in Sokka's eyes. "Are you seriously asking me that? Right now?"
"We-ell," Sokka says cheekily, leaning in closer as well. Zuko can feel Sokka's breath huffing out across the bridge of his nose. "The best detectives do always need more than one piece of evidence to form a viable conclusion."
"They do, do they?" Zuko closes the distance between them and kisses Sokka soundly on the mouth. When he pulls away, Sokka's eyes have fluttered shut. "How's that for a second piece of evidence?"
"Oh, I don't know," Sokka says. He sounds considerably more breathless than he did a few seconds ago, and Zuko counts that as a victory. "I might need a third. You know. For reliability purposes."
"Hm," Zuko says. "Very well, then."
Sokka leans forward, obviously expecting another kiss, but Zuko laughs and pushes him away. He reaches out for the necklace instead, prising it free from Sokka's grip and winding it around his neck.
His hands are slippery with water, and it takes a few tries for him to get the clasp right. But when he looks up—oh, when he looks up, the look on Sokka's face is worth more than anything he's ever seen.
"So," Sokka rasps out, "breaking news."
"Oh?"
"Mhm." Sokka sounds a little like he's choking; his eyes seem to be fixed on Zuko's neck. "I've just come up with a conclusion."
"Congratulations." Zuko folds his hands on top of the boat and rests his chin on them, nudging his nose against Sokka's. "Care to share it with your evidence-provider?"
"Certainly," Sokka says, and clears his throat. Zuko raises his brow and waits, tapping his fingers on the boat.
"I think," Sokka says, very seriously, "that we might be engaged."
"I think," Zuko says back, just as seriously, "that you might be right."
And that's when Sokka kisses him. They're both cold, and wet, and the kiss kind of tastes like saltwater, but it's right.
-
When they sneak back into the palace at midnight, still dripping water from their clothes, Suki's the one who finds them. She takes one look at them, then at the necklace around Zuko's neck, and says, "Well, it's about damn time."