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Twenty-nine seconds: that’s how long he held onto Sokka’s hand after pulling him up from the gondola.
That was the moment, Zuko thinks, when he first fell for Sokka.
It wasn’t conscious, the hand holding. Sokka was falling and he couldn’t let him fall into the boiling water and die. And it surprised Zuko that that thought came not from fear of the wrath of his friends and family, but from the realization that he would miss him.
He found he would miss his laugh and his stupid jokes, his schedules and his indignant squawks when the rest of the gang used him for bending practice.
Yeah, he would miss Sokka so much so that his chest actually ached at the possibility of losing him.
(for a moment, he was worried that he would let him fall—that’s what Azula would do, that’s what his father would do—and he wondered if he would have saved any of them, if he was human enough to save someone without ulterior motive)
Of course, he caught Sokka’s hand and pulled him up. He wasn’t prepared to feel the twisting and contorting of Sokka’s fingers against his palm followed quickly by a soft “sorry”.
And then he was back on his feet, but he didn’t let go. Maybe he should have let go—the line was about to be cut—but it felt so right, so certain.
And for a second—twenty-nine, to be precise—Zuko felt safe, invincible.
Yes, he was sure, that was the moment he first fell; his heart was captured by the calluses on Sokka’s palm, the unusual restlessness of his fingers, the way that they just seemed to fit.
He didn’t believe in soulmates, but the way they understood each other, the way that when Sokka breathed, Zuko did, too, the way that Sokka kept him steady and sane…
Well, all that was real and worth believing in.
It was like something clicked in his brain, telling him that this is what love feels like—his hand in yours, that’s love. Catching someone, saving them, protecting them.
But then they ducked back inside the gondola, and there were bigger things to worry about. So he let go, and suddenly, the air grew colder, nevermind that they were directly above a boiling lake. His hand was empty and useless at his side.
Nothing seemed to change when they got back to the Western Air Temple, but at the same time, everything changed. Sokka wanted to be around him, wanted to spar with him. Nothing compared to the joy he felt when Sokka sat next to him during meals, so close that their arms were pressed against each other.
Zuko spent his nights dreaming wistfully of those twenty-nine seconds, wishing for more. But there wasn’t much room for love in the midst of war. He got lucky on the gondola, lucky that there was time for love. He held the twenty-nine seconds close to his chest, felt the pressure of Sokka’s hand in his.
That little moment of love kept him sane until the comet. It was wishful thinking, but Zuko hoped that their moment kept Sokka sane, too.
And then they went their separate ways and he took Azula’s lightning to the chest. And as he laid there, sweating and burning and miserable, and all he could think was: maybe with Sokka things would be okay.
Zuko was about to become Fire Lord.
It was… a lot. Overwhelming. There was a lot of noise—lots of yelling, cheering, and the musicians were warming-up. People kept trying to talk to him, but he kind of just tuned them out.
He picked at the edges of his robe, side-eyeing Sokka who was deep in the midst of a conversation with Mai. He was dressed in traditional Fire Nation robes, but they were a deep blue, like the ocean. His earrings were made of whalebone and there were beads in his hair. One of his crutches was nested tightly under his arm.
Amidst all the chaos, Sokka was the only thing keeping him steady. Even visually—the palace was a mess of people bustling. Colors flashed before him as people in brightly colored robes wove in and out of his sight. It was afternoon, so the sun was high and shining brightly.
Sokka was the only thing that didn’t hurt to look at, probably because his robe was such a gentle color.
His friends and uncle were at his side, yet none of that mattered, their presence did nothing to ease his nerves.
The only thing that could possibly quell his anxiety, his brain decided, was holding Sokka’s hand again.
Well, they’ve only held hands once before, and that time it was because Sokka was about to fall to his death.
… well…
Uncle once described Zuko as “stupidly impulsive”, so he may as well live up to that description.
“I need to ask Sokka something,” he muttered to Aang, before heading to Sokka without waiting for a response.
Okay, if he timed it right, he should be able to make it look like an accident, like his foot hit a crack in the floor and his robes got tangled around his feet. He watched enough plays to know how to fake a trip. Probably.
“Hey, Sokka!” he called, jogging towards him. “I have a—”
And he stepped on his robes with his heel just as he reached Sokka. He wobbled for a bit, then tumbled forward. He would’ve hit the ground if it wasn’t for Sokka grabbing him by the arm last minute.
Heh, all according to plan.
Sokka’s hands were kind of cold and jittery; he tapped Zuko’s arm while he steadied him. It wasn’t his hand, but it would do for the moment.
“Woah, you okay?”
His voice was a rush of cold air, cooling his nerves before they could get overheated.
“Zuko? Buddy?”
Oops. Zuko shook his head. “Sorry, I was just, uh, thinking.”
“Ah,” Sokka nodded, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Nervous, huh?”
“No,” Zuko snapped. He should probably shrug Sokka off, it’s in character for him after all, but he really didn’t want to. It was comforting, safe.
“Uh-huh…” Sokka giggled, giving him a squeeze. “You got this, jerkbender! If anyone can set the Fire Nation straight, it’s you.”
“Thanks.”
I couldn’t do it without you. Your presence is the only thing keeping me together. I want you by my side during my coronation.
“And, hey, if you get nervous, just find me, okay? I’ll be in the front, cheering you on!” Sokka clapped him on the back then let go. “Ah—it’s almost time to start. I should probably head that way. You got this, buddy!”
And then Sokka jogged after Suki, who was heading down to the ceremony, and he was gone.
A strange sort of emptiness washed over Zuko. The world was foreboding without his touch. And maybe that made him weak—that’s certainly what Ozai and Azula would think—but it made him feel stronger.
He rolled his shoulders, took a deep breath, and held his head high with a newfound confidence only Sokka could bring.
Firelord at seventeen… yeah, maybe he could do it.
It was supposed to be a one time thing, the fake tripping, but the weight of Sokka’s hand around his arm was addicting. Touch was fickle—Zuko learned that when he was young. But Sokka’s touch was… it was magical, in a way. For a body devoid of literal magic, Sokka somehow had a lot of it in him.
They were on a walk through the palace garden about a week later when he did it a second time.
He spotted a root sticking out the ground, concealed just enough that he could feign ignorance if needed. It was right there, ripe for the tripping.
It was a little sad, to be honest, and kind of pathetic, but the opportunity presented itself, and it was too good for Zuko to pass up. He had to be careful, seeing as the walk was essentially physical therapy for Sokka’s leg, and he hobbled along more than he walked.
That time, though, Sokka didn’t just catch his hand , no, he caught him. An arm around the waist as if dipping him, the other on the small of his back.
“Woah!” Sokka exclaimed, nearly stumbling over his own feet in order to catch Zuko. “Are you okay?”
Zuko didn’t answer. He just stared at Sokka, captivated by his bright, cheery grin. A cherry blossom tree loomed over them, protecting them from the sun. A turtleduck squeaked from the pond. Life was serene, beautiful, even.
“Zuko?”
Oh, yeah. Sokka.
“Uh, yeah, sorry,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “The sun was in my eyes.”
Sokka quirked a brow at him, yanking him up none too gently. He was still holding on. “Okay…” Sokka frowned, hesitated for a moment, then ran his hands up Zuko’s arms and to his chest. Sokka brushed his shirt off, and perhaps Zuko should’ve thought about why he would do that a little harder, but he was too busy suppressing the giddiness (giddiness—who would’ve thought that Zuko would ever be giddy) that rose up when Sokka patted him.
“Yup!” Sokka’s voice cracked. “You’re all good! You need to be more careful.” He accentuated his point by pushing Zuko with his shoulder.
Normally, that wouldn’t be enough to knock him down, but he was still in a daze from the touching, from the shaky hands that tapped their way up and down his arm, that strayed for just a second too long on his biceps.
Distraction has consequences, Zuko learned that early on. So, it shouldn’t have been a surprise when Sokka’s playful nudge sent him toppling to the ground for real.
“I, uh, I meant to do that.”
Sokka snorted before bursting into laughter—a grand, glorious sound that made Zuko’s heart all weird and erratic. It was a messy, pretty sound, he thought as Sokka hauled him up for a second time, so very Sokka in nature. He hissed lightly, taking a second to massage his leg, then straightened, and they kept going.
And that ignited a fire in him—a new kind of fire, one he hadn’t felt before. It was desperation, a need to be connected with Sokka. And, hey, it worked so well the first two times, why not keep it up?
Moment by moment, he stumbled and he fell; tripping over a root on a walk, slipping on sweat while they sparred, losing his balance while reaching for a book on one of the highest shelves in the library, falling down the stairs at the theatre.
Of course, Sokka couldn’t catch him every time. Scraped knees and palms became his norm. He was pretty sure the palace medical staff hated him now, Katara, too. But whatever. It wasn’t like he was breaking his arm every other day so, really, it wasn’t a problem.
“Hey, Zuko?” Suki asked one day. She just finished a shift as captain of the guard, still fully dressed as a Kyoshi Warrior.
“Yeah?”
Suki sat beside him, levelling him with a look. “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”
“You’ve been… acting weirdly.”
Zuko tried to think of a time he’d behaved oddly recently, but came up empty. “How so?”
“You’ve been really uncoordinated lately,” Suki said. “Tripping all the time; you keep showing up to the medical wing scraped up and bruised. Is someone hurting you? Or is there something going on that’s been distracting you?”
Oh. Oh— well, this was awkward. Admitting to thinking about Sokka and the nice way he holds him every second of every day wasn’t something he was particularly keen on, especially not to Suki, Sokka’s best friend (and, no Zuko wasn’t jealous, definitely not).
He must’ve been silent for too long because Suki grabbed his hand gently. Her hand in his was alright. Well, it wasn’t bad, it just wasn’t Sokka. What was he thinking?
“Zuko, you know you can tell me anything, right? I’m getting worried—the people who care about you are, too. The tripping just isn’t like you.”
“I appreciate your concern,” he said slowly, trying to cleanse his mind of all things Sokka, “but I really am fine. I promise.”
Suki still didn’t look convinced. Ugh, this was hard—improv was not his strong suit.
“I guess I’m just, uh, finally relaxed?” he tried. “And not on guard all the time. So I don’t have to be perfect all the time.”
Okay, there was some truth to that, not that he was ever anything close to perfect in his family’s eyes, but he wasn’t lying entirely.
“Mhm…” Suki hummed, eyeing him up and down. “And that means you lost your balance and poise?”
He snorted. “I never had much poise.”
“That’s not what Aang says when he talks about the dragon dance.”
“I wouldn’t call that poise. It was more like lucky, desperate dancing.”
“Sure.” Suki punched his arm. “But seriously. You promise you're okay? Because Sokka keeps telling me about all the times you’ve… you’ve…” she trailed off, eyes widening.
He should probably be concerned by the inquisitive way Suki stared at him, but all he could think about was how Sokka talked about him, and all the time, apparently. That’s a good thing, he thought. He was glad that Sokka talked about him. That meant he was also thinking about him.
And all attempts to push Sokka to the back of his mind for later vanished, and he grinned.
“Spirits,” Suki muttered, running a hand through her hair. “This is… jeez. Okay.” She stood up, gave him one last look (though this one was filled with heavy exasperation—for what, Zuko didn’t know), patted him on the back, and said, “Yup. I’ll tell everyone not to worry. You’re just… relaxed.”
Oh, good, she bought it. Zuko slumped in his chair once Suki was out of sight.
That was a close one.
Zuko didn’t take many breaks—it was kind of hard to when he’s expected to fix an entire nation—but Sokka practically begged him to go on a boat ride with him and the rest of their friends, and, well, he found it hard to say no to Sokka.
Boats weren’t Zuko’s favorite thing, not after being forced to live on one for years. But Sokka and the rest of his friends made the experience a little better. And he did have fun! They played some games on the deck, ate lunch without a time restriction, and just… talked.
Every time someone brought up work or saving the world, Katara slapped them on the back of the head. It was a break, she said, a mini vacation. No work.
No work, heh. Zuko couldn’t remember a single time in his life when he wasn’t thinking about work.
He and Sokka took the brunt of the head slaps.
About halfway through the day, while they watched Suki and Katara arm wrestle, Zuko noticed that Sokka wasn’t with them anymore. He stood up, stretching, then wandered around looking for him.
He found Sokka on the other side of the ship, leaning against the side and staring wistfully out at sea. His crutch layed at his feet.
“Hey.” Zuko slid in beside him, lightly nudging his shoulder.
Sokka hummed.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, just thinking, is all.”
Zuko knows Sokka better than he knows himself. He knows that when Sokka’s brows are scrunched and his cheeks are puffed out like he’s biting the insides of them, that, yeah, he was thinking but whatever he was thinking about bothered him.
“About what?”
Well, Zuko wasn’t known for his tact. If Sokka really didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t, but sometimes he needed that push to remember he could talk about his feelings. They’re similar in that way, so used to suppressing that they forgot how to feel.
Sokka clucked, his shoulders rolling with a grimace. “Not much,” he said. “Life? Would you tattle on me if I said work?”
The corners of his mouth twitched, he licked his lips. Mostly true, then.
“No, I’ve been thinking about work, too.
Sokka gripped the railing as a heavy wave rocked the boat, hissing under his breath at the sudden movement.
“How’s your leg?”
“Alright, I guess.” Sokka shrugged, running his fingers along the metal. “Better. Katara did a good job. I probably wouldn’t be walking if it weren’t for her.”
“I’m glad she could heal you.”
(I know it’s still bad, but I’m glad that I can still walk with you, spar with you)
Sokka chuckled, leaning into Zuko’s side, a light blush creeping up his neck. Sparks seemed to fly between them at the contact. It might have happened because of his firebending, but he preferred to think it was fate.
“You know, I—”
And then, as if fate decided to play around with them, a new set of waves, even stronger than before, accompanied by a powerful gust of wind, interrupted Sokka.
The ship lurched to the left so suddenly that Zuko didn’t have time to hold onto anything to keep steady. He lost his footing and tumbled over the edge.
Falling felt like flying, Zuko discovered. The wind picked him up as if he were a mere leaf; it cradled him, whipped his face.
There wasn’t a long way to fall, but his eyes closed instinctively, preparing for the rush of cold water.
But then…
“Zuko!”
His eyes flung open and he raised his hand because there was Sokka, leaning over the side of the ship, arm outstretched to catch him.
He had to stretch a bit, but their hands met and melded together.
Sokka stood panting above him, hair wind-swept, like he ran to catch him. He grinned, and the world seemed a bit brighter. Or maybe that was the sun. It was pretty bright.
Zuko could barely think as Sokka heaved him up, so utterly transfixed on how the muscles in Sokka’s arms moved. They were very nice muscles. Zuko was proud of him—he’s been working hard to gain more muscle mass.
Then suddenly their faces were inches apart.
As cliche as it may sound, time seemed to stop.
With the sun shining behind him, Zuko could see all of Sokka’s freckles, even the faint ones. His eyes shimmered in the sunlight, so warm and familiar. There was some kind of softness in the dopey smile he directed at Zuko.
It seemed personal, like the smile was just for him.
It felt like forever, but it was only a couple seconds, at the end of which Sokka hauled him over the side. His back hit the ground with a thump, and he huffed.
But his frustration died quickly when Sokka’s face popped back into view, eyes closed and the corners crinkled as he laughed.
And Zuko found himself laughing, too, clutching his stomach with unbridled joy. “Thanks for catching me,” he said once they calmed down.
“I’ll always catch you.”
Sokka spoke with such conviction, all humor draining out of him within seconds. There was something in his eyes, some emotion Zuko couldn’t quite place.
Whatever emotion it was, it was heavy, sacred. His heart spun rapidly, chest constricting, so overcome with love—
Hm, that explained a lot. Love.
He rolled the word around his tongue, looked at Sokka until it felt like his heart would jump out of his chest just to escape the tsunami of love in his heart.
He loved Sokka.
Zuko gulped, bending down to pick up Sokka’s crutch to hand back to him. He’d probably need it after all that.
For now, he’d push the love aside, as deep down in his chest as it could go, and he’d reevaluate it later. If he thought about it too much around Sokka, he might do something stupid. So, he smoothly and craftily changed the subject.
“What were you saying? Before I fell?”
(maybe he had always been falling)
Sokka nearly jumped out of his skin at the question. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, uh, I don’t remember.” Sokka held his gaze for a couple seconds, calculating. Then, he shook his head. “Yup—can’t remember. Must not’ve been important.”
Lies, his gut screamed, but Zuko nodded all the same, still trying to catch his breath. “That’s alright. You can tell me if you remember.”
Sokka sent a dazzling smile his way. “Duh.” He flicked Zuko’s nose, adjusted the crutch under his arm, then limped off, beckoning for Zuko to follow.
(heh, as if he had to be told to follow Sokka)
Later, while Sokka was dodging water attacks from Katara and Aang, Toph approached him.
Zuko shoved a fist in his mouth to avoid betraying Sokka with his laughter when Sokka stumbled behind Suki. He was so silly, so endearing. So…
“So, are we going to talk about your massive, disgusting crush on Sokka or…” Toph trailed off, gesturing towards him lazily.
“No.”
They sighed. “Okay then.”
That should’ve been the end of the fake falling.
It should’ve been. Instinct was hard to shake, though.
He couldn’t get enough of Sokka’s touch, of their fingers threaded together. It was exhilarating, and the more he chased it, the more reckless he became.
From falling down a hill to accidentally dragging Sokka into the pond with him (and boy was Katara pissed about that one), he fell and fell and fell.
It wasn’t even intentional most of the time. Sometimes, he was so transfixed by the way Sokka laughed or the way he scrunched his nose when he concentrated or the way he ticced louder when he got an idea and then moved to squat on his chair instead of sit in it, that Zuko just… toppled.
He was walking up to the podium to speak at a meeting when he saw Sokka talking to one of the Kyoshi guards present, hands flapping as he spoke. It was cute, he thought, really cute.
It was still cute when he tripped over his robes and broke his nose on the floor because he was too busy admiring Sokka.
So, it was only natural that it all came back to bite him.
He wasn’t sure why, but Sokka was upset. After spending so much time staring at him, Zuko got quite good at reading him, and this level of annoyance and frustration was new. His responses were shorter and snappier, he spent lunch with Suki instead of him, and he didn’t wave back when they passed each other in the hall.
Finally, after a week of all that, Sokka agreed to spar with him.
And, well, could you blame him for getting distracted by Sokka’s biceps? By the way his chest moved when he panted?
It was only natural he’d mess up and trip over everything and nothing.
“Okay, that’s it!”
Zuko jumped when Sokka threw his sword to the ground. “What? Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay, Zuko!”
Sweat dripped down his body, shining in the afternoon light. Over the past year, he practiced sword fighting so much that his arms had grown more muscular. Zuko was practically drooling at the sight, unable to tear his gaze away from the little sweaty slips of hair that fell out of Sokka’s wolftail.
“Are you even listening to me?”
Shoot—was he talking?
Zuko nodded. “I am, I promise I just… zoned out for a second.”
“Yeah, you’ve been doing that a lot lately, huh?” Sokka snorted, crossing his arms. “What’s with you? You used to have such good balance and coordination and now you’re falling all the time! Like just now! Were you even trying?”
“Yes!”
“Well, it didn’t look like it!” Sokka glared at him, and it was not a pleasant experience. “Suki may have accepted your crappy excuse, but I don’t buy it. I know you, Zuko! I know when you’re lying! And that’s all you’ve been doing for the past year—Spirits!” Sokka let out a ragged scream and kicked the floor mat. He ran a hand through his wolftail and laughed, but it wasn’t the happy, sunshine smile Zuko loved. It was sad—worse, it was laced with heavy disappointment.
“Look, I have a perfectly reasonable explanation!” Zuko began, holding his arms in front of his body in surrender. “It’s just…”
Agni, what was his perfectly reasonable explanation? It’s not like he could admit his feelings for Sokka—no, that’d be humiliating and awkward.
He was so lost in thought, however, that he hadn’t noticed Sokka’s patience wearing thin.
“Wow, riveting,” Sokka snarked, breaking Zuko out of his thoughts. “Stellar explanation. Thanks for sharing.” His eyes bore into Zuko, hard and callous. The usual playfulness was long gone, replaced by a bitter sort of anger.
Anger was a weird look on Sokka. He’d only ever seen it in the heat of battles, when they were fighting a war. He’d never seen him angry outside of the battlefield, especially not directed at him.
He was too quiet again. Sokka scoffed, kicking the ground for extra measure. “Whatever. Thought you actually trusted me.” He turned to leave, and something in Zuko’s heart clenched painfully, squeezing and squeezing until the words moved up his lungs, up his throat, and rolled off his tongue.
“I just wanted to hold your hand again!”
He didn’t mean to yell, it just kind of happened naturally.
Sokka froze, his shoulders shrugging relentlessly. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned around. Zuko swallowed, biting the inside of his cheek and trying his best to ignore the bile creeping up his throat.
“You… you what?”
“I, uh, I just wanted to hold your hand again or… whatever. It’s stupid, just ignore me.”
Zuko was desperate to unlock his inner angsty teenager, the one he hid away years ago. He wanted to stomp and pout and maybe punch a wall or something… he could do it, he knew how to avoid breaking his hand, too.
Silence choked Zuko, drying his mouth and making even more sweat drip down him. The longer Sokka put off the inevitable disgust or rejection, or, Agni forbid the gentle let-down, the more Zuko’s gut twisted. He would honestly prefer Sokka screaming at him as opposed to pitying him.
Sokka took a deep breath, lips twitching in a way that Zuko wasn’t sure if he was ticcing or about to make a face. “So, let me get this straight. For the past year, you’ve been purposefully tripping yourself so you could hold my hand again?”
“Okay, it sounds pathetic when you put it like that but—”
A powerful snort cut him off, soon followed by a few more, and then Sokka was doubled over laughing.
Tears—literal tears—pooled under Sokka’s closed eyes, and he wiped them away with a shaky hand.
Yikes, okay, so maybe laughter was worse than pity.
Zuko’s stomach clenched uncomfortably, and he wanted nothing more than to run out.. Something like fury or a deep sorrow festered in his heart. A twisted scowl crawled up his lips against his will.
He knew the rejection was coming, but knowing didn’t prepare him for coping with the shame and embarrassment that came with it. And laughter— he thought Sokka was better than that.
Apparently not.
He crossed his arms almost protectively over his chest, fists curling, as if that would make him smaller.
“Glad you find that so funny,” he snapped, turning on his heel.
The laughter stopped abruptly. “Wait—no!” Sokka grabbed his wrist and yanked him around.
Zuko’s heart skipped a beat, or something cheesy like that. It was stupid how the slightest bit of physical affection from Sokka made him feel like he’s feeling. He should shake him off, but if this was the last time they touched, he selfishly wanted it to last.
“No, I’m sorry!” Sokka was breathless, tapping Zuko’s wrist frantically. “I didn’t mean it like that! I just… that was such a you thing to say.”
“Okay, I think that just makes me angrier than I was five seconds ago.”
“Argh!” Sokka slapped his forehead. “No, that came out wrong. I mean, was it stupid and reckless? Absolutely—Katara would probably combust or something if you came to her with another scraped knee. But, I don’t know, it’s also cute, okay? A classic flirting maneuver. Kinda disappointed that I didn’t think of that. It explains a lot, too…”
Cute? A classic flirting maneuver? Yikes, he really had been flirting that whole time. There it was again—his heart skipped another beat. Maybe he needed to stop reading romantic plays.
“What?”
Wow, great response, Zuko.
Sokka rolled his eyes. “What I meant was, I’ve been wanting to hold your hand, too, idiot. Those twenty-nine seconds on the gondola wouldn’t leave my head until, like, a couple months later. It was all I could think about. And talk about… Spirits, Suki was sick of hearing about you, heh.”
“… you counted, too?”
“Huh?”
“It was twenty-nine seconds, in the gondola. I counted. And you did, too, I guess.” Zuko couldn’t believe his luck. Though Sokka was pretty fond of numbers and counting things, so it shouldn’t come as that much of a surprise.
A small, fond smile wormed its way up Sokka’s lips. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
An awkward silence bled into the air between them. Sokka fidgeted, shoulders rolling, while Zuko stood, staring ahead with wide eyes.
A small part of him was tempted to break the tension by falling, but he figured that would just make Sokka mad. He might’ve done it, though, if Sokka didn’t beat him to it.
“Would you do me the honor, Mr. Jerkbender Firelord, sir, of going on a date with me?” Sokka mocked bowed deeply, holding his stance. He looked up just enough so Zuko could see him waggling his eyebrows.
Instinct is a powerful thing, Zuko remembered once again as he grabbed Sokka’s hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Where did that come from? Since when did he have game? But he kissed his hand, and it was pretty smooth of him.
“I guess,” he hummed, dropping Sokka’s hand (that was a terrible decision, why in the world did he do that?).
“You guess?” Sokka screeched, bolting upright. He stuck his finger in Zuko’s face (he kinda wanted to bite it, but he didn’t). “Just you wait, I’m going to rock your world.”
“You already have.”
Curse his stupid, unfiltered mouth!
Sokka faltered, his confident, flirtatious demeanor dropping. A soft pink tinted his cheeks, so soft Zuko almost missed it. He’s glad he didn’t, though. It was pretty.
“Well, uh, then get ready to have your world rocked twice! Yeah!” Sokka declared, poking his chest.
It was just a poke, one little poke. But when his finger touched him, Zuko was filled with that warm feeling again.
“Good,” he said, reaching out and grabbing Sokka’s hand.
Sokka gawked at him, and for a second, he worried that, perhaps, he misread the signals. But then he smiled and wove their fingers together.
Twenty-nine seconds came and went without much fanfare, but this time they didn’t let go, even as Sokka went to pick up his sword and they put their equipment away. It definitely made things harder and there was a lot of fumbling, but it made Zuko happy, and he was pretty sure it made Sokka happy, too.
It wasn’t the most orthodox way to confess, nor was it smooth. There were a lot of bumps along the way—quite literally—lots of bruises and scraped knees.
But in the end he can’t pretend there’s anything he’d change those moments for.