Chapter Text
The flight back to the Western Air Temple is awkward, to say the least.
They had reached the outskirts of Fire Fountain City all too quickly; Kiyi hadn’t been kidding when she’d said the town was close. Chit Sang had volunteered to take her the rest of the way home, and swore to tell her parents to run before the Warden came knocking.
(He was suspiciously gleeful about the prospect of seeing an “old friend” who lived nearby. What with the way he talked about wanting to “pay him a visit,” it probably wasn’t going to be a very amicable reunion.
Zuko just hopes Chit Sang manages to avoid getting himself arrested again.)
Now, without their additional passengers, Zuko is stuck with three of the people who were once his sworn enemies. (Well, two of them were; the jury is still out on Hakoda.)
Sokka and his father had disappeared after their pit stop, and the ship is large enough that Zuko, unfortunately, can’t eavesdrop. Judging by the glares the two had been sporting when they left, it’s likely they’re having more of an argument and less of a civil conversation.
(Zuko wishes the thought of Sokka alone with an angry father didn’t send a jolt of anxiety through him.)
He tries to distract himself by inspecting the various buttons and levers in the helm of the airship. Suki stands by the wheel, occasionally consulting the colorful maps hanging on the walls and redirecting their course accordingly.
“So…” Suki begins; she hasn’t had to steer in a while, and, like Zuko, is clearly bored out of her mind. “You and Sokka, huh?”
Zuko splutters, cheeks beginning to burn at Suki’s smirk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I don’t mind. I actually think you’re good for each other.”
“Um, thanks? I just…” Zuko sighs; is he really about to have this conversation with Sokka’s sort-of ex? “I don’t even know what we are.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, we, uh, kind of kissed a few times? But then he started calling me buddy, so maybe it was just an adrenaline thing?”
“That boy’s an idiot,” she says, rolling her eyes.
Then her expression softens. “Look, he may not have said it, but he really does care about you. You should’ve seen his face when you passed out by the cooler. It was...I’ve never seen him look that terrified.”
She pauses, then smiles and adds, “Not even when you burned down my village and tried to kill us all.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill anyone!” Zuko is very much aware of the squeak in his voice, and Suki starts to laugh.
Soon, Zuko finds himself joining in. “Agni,” he says, “I really was an asshole, wasn’t I?”
Suki nods. “A major dick.”
Zuko scrubs at his face, groaning. “How could Sokka ever like me after all of that?”
“You’re not a bad guy, Zuko. I’ve forgiven you, and Sokka definitely has. Hakoda will...come around eventually.”
Zuko snorts at that. “Are you kidding? He and Katara are going to start an official ‘We Hate Zuko’ club.”
“That girl can really hold a grudge.” Then Suki meets his gaze, and the teasing expression morphs into one that screams no nonsense. “I’m not kidding, though; Sokka seriously likes you. He really isn’t subtle.”
She must notice Zuko’s hesitation, because she adds, “Just talk to him about it, okay? Tell him how you feel.”
Zuko doesn’t have the heart to tell Suki that he doesn’t do feelings, especially not romantic ones. That meant vulnerability, and that’s a weakness that he knows from experience is far too easy to exploit.
So he just nods, and resigns himself to staring out the window for the remainder of the trip home.
(He wonders when home first became a place of warmth rather than blazing fire.)
They disembark the airship a few hours later, the sun low on the horizon. Zuko can feel its power dimming in his gut.
Katara, predictably, is pissed. “What are you doing in this thing? And where in La’s name have you been?”
“Yeah,” Toph adds from where she stands at Katara’s left. “What kind of fishing trip was that?”
Unlike Katara, Toph simply looks amused.
Zuko and Sokka exchange a glance,
“We, uh, kind of went to a Fire Nation prison?” Sokka says it like a question, as if that will somehow stem his sister’s ire.
“You what?” Her shock quickly morphs to anger as she turns to Zuko. “I don’t know what sort of game you think you’re playing by locking up my brother, but—“
“Can it, Sugar Queen,” Toph interrupts. “If he was going to turn in Sokka, why would they both be here right now?”
Katara frowns, floundering for an answer. Aang, hovering at her other side, takes this as his cue to interject.
“So you didn’t go on a fishing trip? Are we all going vegetarian now?”
Sokka scoffs. “In your dreams.”
Aang begins to pout, and Zuko decides this is one conversation he does not want to involve himself in.
“But that means we’re out of meat,” Toph groans.
Sokka, self-proclaimed meat lover extraordinaire, just smiles. “Actually, we got the best meat of all. The meat of friendship and fatherhood.”
Katara and Aang let out identical gasps as the airship’s remaining passengers walk down the gangplank.
“That was our cue, right?” Suki asks drily.
“Yes, and it was awesome!” Sokka whoops and punches a fist into the air for emphasis.
Katara is quick to sprint past him, barreling into Hakoda’s chest and wrapping her arms around him. “I missed you so much!”
Hakoda smiles, returning the hug. “I missed you too.”
“Hey, does someone wanna tell me what’s going on? I’m blind, remember?” Toph waves her hand in front of her clouded eyes.
“Er, right,” Aang says, fidgeting. “Katara’s dad is here. So is Suki—she’s a Kyoshi warrior.”
“Hey, he’s my dad too!” Sokka protests, scurrying over to join in the embrace as if to prove his point.
“Cool,” Toph replies. “I’m Toph. And I have no idea what a Kyoshi warrior is, but if it means another girl who isn’t a drama queen, I’m all for it.”
Suki laughs. “I like her.”
Toph grins. “As you should.”
The reunion party soon migrates to the campfire, which Aang proudly proclaims he lit. Katara, whom anyone with (or without) functioning eyes can see is nauseatingly infatuated with him, doesn’t even validate him; instead, she focuses on filling a bowl with stew for Hakoda. She uses her bending to scoop it out of the pot, earning a compliment from her father.
It’s strange, and Zuko makes sure to sit as far away from Hakoda as possible.
He is, as usual, the last to be served, and Katara scowls at him as she dumps the chunky remnants of the meal into his bowl.
He thanks her, as he does every time. Katara huffs. It’s a familiar song and dance.
Even though his food is slightly burnt, it still tastes fantastic to his empty stomach. He realizes he hasn’t eaten since dinner the night before, and forces himself to slow down lest he give his stomach another reason to rebel against him. (The first reason is his ever-present nerves, which are only worsened by Hakoda’s presence and Sokka’s lingering stare.)
“This is way better than cabbage soup,” Suki jokes, nudging Zuko with her elbow.
He feels the tightness in his chest loosen slightly. “Yeah, tell me about it.”
For some reason, Suki’s mention of cabbage soup suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in the world. Aang is particularly excited—maybe this is why all the vegetarian benders were the ones that got wiped out, Zuko thinks before he can stop himself—and begins to overwhelm Suki with questions. The story about Cabbage Night (which Zuko was hoping to repress, thank you very much) soon becomes a dramatic retelling of their time at Boiling Rock.
Most of the theatrics come from Sokka, who has an affinity for sound effects and frankly terrible impersonations. Zuko isn’t exactly keen on reliving his past few days of misery, and Hakoda, though his arms remain wrapped around his children, is still eyeing him, so he decides to excuse himself to his room.
“Goodnight, Zuko!” Aang says brightly, oblivious to the tension in the air.
He not-so-subtly regrets his words when Zuko says that he’ll see him in the morning for sunrise meditation.
“Ha,” Toph says, punching Aang, who has started to pout.
Zuko uses the inevitable earthbending battle that’s about to occur as cover to slip away, slinking into the shadows and heading to the far end of the temple.
Most of Team Avatar tends to sleep close together around the campfire, but once they’d stuck him inside this secluded room—probably in fear for their safety—he hadn’t really seen a reason to leave. The mattress is comfortable enough, and while the lack of a door still unnerves him, he really doesn’t mind keeping his distance.
But tonight, the quiet—usually more than welcome after spending the day around loud-mouthed children—feels...lonely. Zuko sighs, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He calls a small flame to his hand, curling it around his fingers and tossing it back and forth between his palms.
The light is mesmerizing; the hints of pink and green and purple swirling in the flames bring a swell of pride to his chest, because for once, he made something beautiful.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you doing that.”
Zuko startles, his fire rising momentarily before extinguishing at the sight of Sokka leaning in what should be a doorway.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Mind if I come in?”
“Would you listen if I said no?”
Sokka brings his hand to his chin, scrunching his eyebrows as though deep in thought. “Probably not.”
Zuko sighs, sliding over to make room on the bed. When Sokka sits beside him, their thighs nearly touching, Zuko is hit with the memory of the last time they’d been on a bed together.
(Lips, hands, “just focus on your father”)
“How’s your dad?”
“Huh?” Sokka seems caught off guard by Zuko’s question which, in his opinion, is an incredibly reasonable thing to ask. “Oh, he’s, uh...he’s good. Katara’s still giving him a run-down of every second of our lives since the eclipse.”
Zuko winces at the super helpful reminder that, even if he had helped break Hakoda out of prison, it was still his fault he was locked up in the first place.
“Anyways,” Sokka continues, “that’s not really what I wanted to talk about.”
Zuko nods, fiddling with his hands. He coaxes a small flame back to life, watching it flicker in time with his breaths.
“I actually wanted to talk about...us.”
Zuko’s freezes, the fire in his palm nearly going out. “What about us?” he chokes out.
“We kissed.”
Zuko nods.
“Multiple times.”
Zuko nods again.
“So then…” Sokka trails off.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything. Don’t feel like you owe me something.” The flames in his hand flicker away; he doesn’t bother reigniting them.
“Is that what you want?” Sokka asks.
Zuko knows he should lie. He knows that Sokka deserves better, and he knows that Hakoda would never approve (let alone Ozai).
But Zuko is selfish. He always has been.
“No.”
And then he’s kissing Sokka like he’s drowning, like Sokka is the air in his lungs and the anchor keeping him from evaporating into nothingness. He tries to commit the feeling of Sokka’s lips to memory, a bittersweet souvenir to take with him once he’s booted out of the group for good.
But Sokka...Sokka’s kissing him back. His lips are urgent, hands tugging Zuko impossibly closer by the hem of his shirt.
“Good,” Sokka says when he breaks away to catch his breath. His forehead is pressed against Zuko’s, warm breath ghosting over his face. “Because I don’t either.”
He kisses him again, his lips featherlight as he presses them to his nose, his brow, his scarred cheekbone.
“I like you, Zuko,” he says. “I like you a lot.”
Zuko flushes. “I-I like you too.”
Sokka pulls back from where he’s started trailing kisses along Zuko’s neck, cupping his unmarred cheek and guiding Zuko’s eyes to meet his.
“I’m serious,” he says. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”
Zuko’s heart feels just about ready to beat right out of his chest. He can’t remember the last time anyone—Mai included—said anything even relatively civil about his appearance.
He isn’t quite sure how to respond—isn’t quite sure, in all honesty, that he can form words right now without crying—so he just presses his lips to Sokka, who melts into the kiss with a sigh.
It feels right. It feels warm, even warmer than his inner fire.
It feels—though he thought he’d forgotten the emotion, the sensation, long, long ago—like finally coming home.
And he never wants to leave.