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Katara deposits her dumbass brother in front of the hospital, declaring, “Text me when you’re done with that. I’m waiting in the car.”
Sokka winces as he gets up from the passenger seat. “Okay. I’ll...let you know.”
She rolls her eyes and pulls away from the curb, watching him lopsidedly shuffle through the front door of the ER in her side mirror.
The toy is still hammering away when Sokka’s escorted to a room. He unsuccessfully attempts to get comfortable on the crinkly hospital bed paper.
It’d be one thing if he’d just kept it on a flat vibration - he could probably get acclimated to that, eventually - but no, he’d gone for the fancy speed gradient, going slow-to-fast on a ten-second loop, and it’s killing him. Every time, the slowest speed feels like an oasis in the desert, and he could cry with relief, and then the toy ramps back up to a high enough speed to make his eyes water with overstimulation.
When he’d been shopping for a vibe for Suki, this model’s twelve-hour battery life had been a selling point.
Now, it sounds more like a threat.
He’d wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor while explaining the situation to the pretty nurse at the front desk. He’d even given a fake name - he’s pretty sure Katara’s ex works here, after all, and the last thing he wants is for that douchebag to know about any of this.
A knock sounds on the door.
“Come in,” he says reluctantly, and is greeted by his worst anxiety incarnate in a red-and-white Hawaiian print scrub top.
Jet glances back down at the open file in his hands and smirks. “Hey there, Wang Fire, how’s it going? It’s been a while.”
Sokka glares back at him. “Fine,” he grits through clenched teeth. Oma’s left tit, that facial hair situation is tragic.
“You’re in the ER with a dildo stuck up your ass on a Thursday night, so I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that’s an outright lie.” He chuckles. “How long has this...situation lasted so far?”
Sokka checks his phone. “Uh, two hours or so?” He lets out a strangled moan. ”Fuck.”
“Okay, well, we’ll need to take an x-ray to determine the extent of the situation. I’ll need to wheel you over.”
“I can walk just fine, thank you very much,” Sokka grits out.
Spirits, this is going to be a fun shift.
Zuko’s minding his business and catching up on some paperwork when Jet saunters over to the desk, a dangerous glint in his eye.
“Hey there, Sunshine.” He’s grinning. Zuko braces for impact. “You’re up for an extraction in room 311.”
“I’m in the middle of something, Jet. Can’t Longshot handle it?”
“No, Dr. Long is very busy.” Longshot, sitting on the sofa with his feet up, glances up from his phone, bemused but unobjecting. “And besides, this situation really calls for your...expertise. You should really lighten up, y’know.”
Zuko rolls his eyes. “Alright, whatever. What’s the situation?”
Jet smirks harder, somehow, pulling supplies out of a cabinet to Zuko’s right. “28-year-old male, foreign body in rectum. Took x-rays already. Should only require a local and a careful professional to ease it out.”
Zuko snorts. “Alright, give me two minutes. Anybody ever tell you you’re a real pain in the ass?”
“Yeah, but they’re usually more grateful when they do.”
Sokka’s very, very tired of this. Somehow, the trip back from the x-ray room had managed to lodge the base of the obstinately vibrating toy even more directly against his prostate.
The overstimulation is excruciating.
He’s just finished changing into the hospital gown Jet had unceremoniously tossed in his direction when he hears another knock on the door. “Yeah?”
Jet enters, carrying a tray with a syringe and a few bottles on it. “The doc’ll be in soon. How’s the situation?” He’s smirking again.
“Has anyone ever told you - Tui’s fins - that your bedside manner sucks dick?”
Jet chuckles, pulling a fresh pair of gloves from the stand by the sink. “Oh, if you think I’m bad, just wait until you meet the good doctor.”
Sokka blanches. ”Jet, what the fuck-”
There’s another knock on the door.
“Come in,” Sokka sighs, resigning himself to his fate.
Zuko’s not sure what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this.
Sweet Spirits, this guy’s hot.
He’s going to murder Jet.
“Hi, uh, I’m Dr. Huo? I’ll be your doctor this evening, Mr.-” He checks the file. “Fire?”
The beautiful man on the bed chuckles weakly. “Call me Wang. Mr. Fire is my father.” The frail attempt at suaveness is shattered by a pained whimper.
Zuko examines the x-rays on the computer. The situation becomes much clearer fairly quickly.
Despite his carefully cultivated professionalism, he flushes a deep crimson.
“So, the, uh, item is still...on?”
‘Wang’ grimaces. “Yup.”
“Alright. Well. We’ll need to start by injecting a local anaesthetic into your lower abdomen, and then I’ll try to guide it out. It’s not very large, so it probably won’t require surgery.”
The man smiles, even though his eyes are watering. “Sounds good. I’ll take that anaesthetic - fuck - whenever you’re ready, Jet.”
Jet scoffs, and loads the syringe so slowly that it’s gotta be deliberate.
Zuko puts up the table’s stirrups, grabs some gloves and medical lubricant, and quietly despairs.
This is going so much better than Jet possibly could’ve hoped.
“Hold still,” he tells Sokka, before injecting him with the local, followed by a mild dose of muscle relaxers. The poor guy winces. “You’ll feel a lot better once this kicks in.”
“So if you can just, um, scoot forward? And put your feet in the stirrups? That should start working pretty quickly.” Zuko’s blush has faded, for now, but he’s still hilariously flustered. Spirits, he’s fun to tease.
Sokka scoots dutifully, still grimacing, while Zuko gloves up.
“So, uh, in a few minutes, I’ll apply pressure to your abdomen with one hand while guiding the object out with the other. Do you have any questions for me?” And, just like that, the blush is back.
“Nah, I think I’m good, doc,” Sokka responds.
Jet can’t wait until those drugs kick in properly.
The pretty, pretty doctor is talking again, and Sokka’s absolutely entranced, even if the vibrating dildo he bought for his now-ex-girlfriend is still lodged firmly up his ass.
“You know, in the future, it’s much safer to use toys with flared bases. They’re harder to...lose.”
Sokka looks quickly away from the pretty doctor’s pretty face, gaze landing on his rainbow lanyard. Oh, so he knows.
“Speaking from experience, doc?” Jet chimes in.
Smug fuckin’ bastard. If the pretty doctor’s a bottom, that’s entirely his business.
(And maybe it could be Sokka’s, too, if he really manages to turn this situation around.)
The doctor’s blushing again, and glaring at Jet. Sokka decides to join in.
“Hey, doc, do we really need the peanut gallery to stick around?”
“I’ll have you know, Wang, that I am serving as the chaperone for this delicate procedure, to make sure Doctor Sunshine here doesn’t pull any funny business,” Jet drawls.
Sokka wonders if he could punch him and blame it on the drugs.
Zuko’s rarely been more relieved that a procedure went smoothly. He turns the toy off and seals it in a specimen bag - it’s bright pink, and a pretty nice brand.
He’s almost jealous of the girl this guy must’ve bought it for.
”Is it out, doc?” the guy asks woozily.
”Out? Shit, thought you wanted us to charge the batteries,” Jet replies, smirking. Zuko glares at him. “Fine, I’ll go prep the discharge paperwork.”
Zuko sends a silent prayer to Freddie Mercury, patron saint of bi disaster boys, for strength.
“Y’know, I was serious earlier - prostate stimulation is a perfectly healthy source of sexual pleasure, when it’s done safely. There’s a great store, Kyoshi Island, a few minutes down the road - you and your, uh, girlfriend? Could stop by there sometime and check out their selection.” He sets the baggied dildo down on the bed next to him.
“Huh?” ‘Wang’ stares down at the dildo, then glances up at him, clearly confused. His eyes are still a bit glazed. “Oh, uh, I’m currently...very single.” He gestures around the room for emphasis. “No girls...or guys...or, uh, nonbinary folks...in the picture.”
”Oh,” Zuko replies, intelligently. “Well then,” and flees.
Katara’s been reading on her phone for the last hour. She’d taken a walk briefly after Sokka had been admitted and picked up some fast food - the kind Aang abhors, but that’s always the only thing available within a mile radius of hospitals, for some reason - and then returned to the parking lot. It’s not like she wants to be much further, on the off-chance something goes sideways.
Her phone starts buzzing, and a picture of Sokka comes up on the screen. “Hello, brother dear. Are you set free? Is your honour intact?”
”I guess?” His voice shifts to a conspiratorial whisper. “Katara, the doctors here are so pretty-”
Tui give her strength, her brother is a dumbass. ”So I take it they drugged you up a bit, huh? I’ll meet you out front in ten.”
Jet maneuvers a sloppily-redressed Sokka into a wheelchair, and heads towards the elevators.
”So what’s with that...soul patch you got going, huh?”
Sokka snorts. “Was tryna do No Shave November. Apparently that’s just how it grows.”
”I mean, you can probably just give up on it at this point. Considering your approach to No Nut November, there’s clearly a precedent.”
Jet might threaten to quit about once a week, but every so often, he really does love this job.
They roll out the entrance, where a familiar blue Toyota is idling.
Much more often, he really does hate this job.
Sokka interrupts the incredibly tense stare-down currently taking place over his head with a cheery, “Hey, Katara!”
“Hey, Sokka,” she grits out. ”Let’s get going.”
”Fine by me!” he says, closing the car door slightly more forcefully than is necessary. She never told him why she and Jet broke up, exactly, but sibling solidarity always comes first. “Hey, can we go get ice cream?”
”Fine,” she says, sighing heavily.
He sighs, too, but it’s much...dreamier. ”Seriously, Katara, my doctor was so pretty. Fuck, I wish I’d gotten his number - his hair looked so silky, and his eyes were so light brown that they almost looked gold, and he was so serious-”
”If you’d gotten his number, Sokka, he could’ve gotten in a lot of trouble, because he was at work, and there are rules, not to mention laws, about that kind of thing-”
”Kataaaara, you’re so mean to me,” he moans.
”And anyways, that sounds an awful lot like Zuko Huo. Not that Jet’s opinion is worth much, but he always thought the guy was a real stick in the mud.”
”I’d sure like to be a stick in his mud,” Sokka grumbles mournfully.
Katara scoffs disgustedly, and pointedly does not stop for ice cream on the way home.
It’s been a little over a month since The Incident, as Sokka personally refers to it, and he’s browsing the prostate massager section of the sex shop his ex-girlfriend manages.
At the time, in the midst of his extensive divine bargaining, he’d sworn to keep his ass a one-way street until the end of days if he could just get the damn thing out.
But he was weak-willed and still phenomenally single, and the orgasms he’d had immediately before the situation had gone...pear-shaped were fucking phenomenal.
He’s skimming the back of one box, which either contains a butt plug, a kitchen implement, or a silicone-coated medieval torture device, when a dark-haired figure moves in his periphery.
It’s not the pretty doctor, he reminds himself sternly. You’re just lonely and pitiful.
The figure wanders a bit closer, and Sokka glances up.
Wait, holy shit-
Zuko had mostly gotten himself through the last twelve hours without fucking throttling Jet by bribing himself with the prospect of a very nice orgasm. He’d decided to stop by Kyoshi Island on the way home, since he’s low on lube - their generic brand stuff is actually really good, and pretty affordable.
He’d stopped through the sale section, grabbed something exciting-looking, and is contemplating checking out the truly remarkable plug selection.Why not? He’s a well-rounded, sexually healthy adult, and Jet had said he ‘needed to get fucking laid already’ earlier, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. He deserves this.
There’s another person browsing the section when he reaches it. The side of their head looks familiar, but he’s adhering to standard sex shop etiquette and determinedly avoiding eye contact, until they interrupt the silence.
”What’s up, doc?” ‘Wang Fire’ says, grinning brilliantly.
The pretty doctor - Zuko, Katara had said - turns beet red.
Sokka glances down at the man’s basket, which contains a liter bottle of Kyoshi brand anal lube - complete with pump spout - and a set of nipple clamps with a bright orange ‘CLEARANCE’ sticker on the package.
“Getting ready for an...exciting night in, then?” Zuko flushes even redder, somehow.
Fuck, he’s embarrassed - Sokka’s gotta level the playing field a bit, or else he’ll never get the guy’s number.
“Y’know, this really attractive guy I met last month recommended the anal vibe options here, but I’m a bit overwhelmed by all these...options. What’s the best shot for a butt stuff beginner - a rectum rookie, if you will - like me?”
Zuko silently grabs a tiny, vibrating plug, and places it in his hands.
Sokka should probably quit while he’s ahead, but fuck, he hasn’t stopped thinking about the man for a month now, and fortune’s supposed to favor the bold, right?
”Thanks! Say, I’m not even sure how to use one of these things - I could probably use a hands-on tutorial, if you know anybody I could ask about that kind of thing?”
Zuko pauses for a moment, and then looks up, a soft, lopsided smile dawning across his face. “Yeah, y’know, I just might."
Later that night, murmuring soft compliments into the gorgeous doctor’s ear, new purchase firmly anchored in place, Sokka comes so hard that he’s fairly sure he fin-bumps Tui.
When Zuko, absolute goddamned marvel that he is, ‘loses’ a terrifyingly large toy, flared base and all, a few weeks later, he makes Sokka drive him to the urgent care two towns over.
It turns out Jet moonlights.