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Sokka couldn’t help but smile at the sensation of satin sheets all around him – he was starting to get used to that. There were definite perks in dating royalty, and nice sheets was one of them. He did miss pelts and hides and Gran-Gran’s quilts, but he could always go back home for a while to quench that feeling. Or bring some pelts here, who would stop him?
Slowly opening his eyes, Sokka squinted at the bright sunlight and rubbed his face with a hand trying to wake up. When he was finally able to see, the usual morning picture greeted him – Zuko standing up, his back facing the bed, his arms spread at shoulder level, and several attendants quietly and skillfully helping their Fire Lord get dressed for the day. That was something Sokka still wasn’t used to, and didn’t think he could ever get used to – other people being here in the room as soon as they woke up. They didn’t even knock or anything, just quietly – almost silently – entered the room, opened the curtains, and attended to the lord of the palace. They attempted to attend to Sokka, too, at first, but he shut that down. He was perfectly fine dressing up by himself, thank you.
He was actually surprised at how totally fine everyone seemed to be with his presense in the palace. Back home at the South Pole, if some chief just openly shared his bed with a man, well… he probably wouldn’t have been chief for very long. Here, though? He was treated like a noble, despite the fact he was far from. Was it a good thing, was it a bad thing – he really didn’t know. He enjoyed being with Zuko, though, and that Zuko’s standing wasn’t in jeopardy because he chose to be with Sokka. That could only be a good thing, right?
“Hey, your Fiery Highness,” Sokka called with a thick voice, propping his head up on an elbow to look up at Zuko.
“Yes?” Zuko responded immediately, looking back over a shoulder to look down at Sokka and smile at him, pleasantly surprised that Sokka was already up.
It was true that more often than not even all the attendants and the sunlight and the rustling of clothes failed to wake Sokka up, and he met the new day all by himself in this room. He wasn’t going to feel bad about that though – sometimes they stayed up really, really late and he needed to sleep that off.
“Could you leave out some casual Fire Nation clothes for me?” he asked, a yawn breaking up his sentence in the middle. “I wanted to go out and blend in a little.”
Zuko frowned in the cutest way a man leading a whole nation probably could, his nose wrinkling and his long eyelashes twitching as his gaze ran over a silk painting on the wall. Zuko joined his hands on his abdomen, hidden inside long bellowing sleeves of his official robes, and hummed in thought. But before Sokka could get completely lost in admiring his royal good looks and forget what his request even was, Zuko responded with an apologetic shrug:
“I do not believe I have anything casual.”
The attendants, done with their task, bowed almost in half and quickly left the room without ever turning their backs on the Fire Lord. They left as quietly as they entered, leaving behind not a hint that they were ever there – other than the fact Zuko was fully dressed in the hundred layers he needed to wear, and his hair was neatly arranged with the gold crown… well, crowning it. Only one servant remained, the head of Zuko’s attendants from what Sokka understood. He was an older man, with long black moustache and beard, and wrinkles by the corners of his eyes that betrayed him as a kind man.
“If I may,” the man said—Haijei, his name was Haijei! Zuko subtly nodded at him, inviting him to speak freely. “I shall prepare something fitting for master Sokka, if he were to benevolently decide to await here,” he bowed, this time in Sokka’s direction which made him all the more aware of just how naked he was under the sheets.
“Y-yeah,” Sokka agreed, awkwardly looking up at the ceiling. “That’d be great. Thank you!” he added, but when he looked back he realized Haijei was already gone and only Zuko remained in the room, looking at him with so much affection Sokka couldn’t help but smile back the same way.
Sokka grabbed the edge of the sheet that covered him, and threw it over a shoulder to wrap the whole thing around himself and create a sort of loose robe. He slipped off the edge of the bed and stepped towards Zuko, who already unfolded his arms and extended his hands inviting Sokka to hold them. He didn’t need more of an invitation that that, wrapping his hands around Zuko’s fingers and letting his chest fall against Zuko’s right before their lips did the same. Sokka always found it a little exciting when he could do that, kiss him whilst having bed hair and being barely dressed while Zuko was all in his official silks and gold. It was like something from a romantic fairy tail about a pretty prince and a wild wolf-boy.
And it was going to get even more romantic tonight, once Sokka would unveil the special dinner he planned for them.
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Sokka pulled at the high collar of his shirt that made him feel a little hotter on this calm summer day in the Fire Nation, and looked up at the sign of the shop he was directed to by a helpful stranger earlier. “Auntie Sinzi’s Wines and Liquors” – he was told she had everything one could want from a wine shop. Feeling enthusiastic about trying to pick a wine Zuko would enjoy, Sokka entered the shop. Windchimes accompanied his entry, prompting a teeny-tiny old lady to walk out from the counter and bow at Sokka in greeting.
“Hello,” he greeted her back, bowing his head and folding his hands in the traditional Fire Nation greeting.
He was a totally regular Fire Nation citizen today, dressed like them in red and brown and burgundy, with his feet wearing sandals, and even with his hair fashioned in the style that was traditional here. Only the blue of his eyes betrayed his true roots now, but he couldn’t exactly do anything about that, could he?
“How may auntie Sinzi help you today, dearie?” the shop keep asked, who Sokka presumed was auntie Sinzi herself.
“Oh, I’ll just browse for now, thank you,” he waved a hand at her and attempted the most charming smile he could do. She smiled in response, her wrinkled face getting even more so and reminding Sokka how much he missed Gran-Gran.
Sokka walked through rows of wine racks with his hands locked in the small of his back, briefly stopping at a beautiful bottle of rice liquor that was presented on its own little pedestal. The glass itself was tinted yellow, and it was shaped into a dragon encircling an amphora. He was very, very close to just sinking his entire coin purse on that bottle just because he found it so pretty, but shook his head and decided to stay focused. Wine, he came here for wine.
As he walked around another wine rack glancing over the labels and not getting excited by any of them, Sokka was startled by a portrait staring at him from a wall between two wine racks. It was a square painting of Zuko, in an intricately carved wooden frame, with a few incense sticks lit up under it and a few flowers placed by each side of the portrait.
“That is a beautiful painting of the Fire Lord you have here, auntie,” Sokka noted out loud without looking away from Zuko’s painted face.
“Isn’t it?” the old woman agreed, her voice pleased as could be while she shuffled closer to Sokka to be able to admire the painting with him. “I had to pay three times the usual price for a colorful version, but I wished to have His Majesty’s closest likeness blessing my shop, and spared no expenses.”
“That’s… really nice,” Sokka nodded, unsure of how he felt about that. He supposed it was good that Zuko was admired this way?
“It’s so nice to have a young Fire Lord in the palace. He brings a lot of strong, young chi to this Nation,” auntie continued meanwhile, raising an arm to just barely reach the shelf with the portrait to adjust how one of the flowers was lying on it. “He is quite a good-looking young man, too, isn’t he?” She looked up at Sokka, her smile that lacked quite a few teeth reaching her eyes as they shimmered excitedly at discussing the Fire Lord.
Sokka looked back at the portrait, and thought that yes, obviously, Zuko was a very good-looking young man. Zuko had it all, really, and Sokka would’ve said that even if he wasn’t sharing a bed with him. He was tall, but not so tall he was intimidating. His body was in perfect physical condition. He had long, thick hair. He had dark, pretty eyelashes. His eyes were the most incredible, gold color that contained so many specks of orange and yellow and brown and amber that it was difficult to look away from them sometimes. And how they lit up when Zuko smiled, or just looked at Sokka… Zuko was just gorgeous, everywhere.
Auntie Sinzi sighed in disappointment, dragging Sokka out of his contemplation of the portrait that didn’t really do Zuko justice. He looked down at her just in time for her to say:
“If only that horrible scar wasn’t tarnishing his face, he could’ve truly been beautiful.”
The lines of Sokka’s face tensed, and his hand tightened around the strap of his sword that lied across his chest. It didn’t take him long to release the tension from his neck and shoulders when he realized that, ultimately, it didn’t really matter what this random old lady who probably never even saw Zuko in person thought about his scar. Sokka thought Zuko was beautiful, the scar included. Frankly, Sokka couldn’t even imagine what Zuko’s face would look like without it since he only ever knew Zuko the way that he was now. He loved the scar, just like he loved everything else about him.
“What wine do you think Fire Lord Zuko would like?” Sokka asked auntie Sinzi, changing the subject to something she would surely be helpful with.
“Oh, what a question,” the old woman chuckled, and pressed a hand against her chest. “I, of course, fantasized about supplying the Fire Lord’s personal wine cellar. Hm, let me think, what one bottle would I start with?” She pressed a finger against her lips as she thought about it, walking through the shop in tiny steps with Sokka following her. “Ah, here!”
She presented Sokka with a bottle that looked like it was at least ten years old, with twine wrapped around the long neck of the bottle, and a parchment label displaying a typical Fire Nation family name who must’ve made the wine.
“I heard that Fire Lord Zuko is especially fond of yellow plumbs, which this wine is mostly made of. This family’s been making such wine since before Fire Lord Zoryu.”
Sokka looked over the bottle, holding it carefully in both hands, and thought that it was probably a good choice. He remembered Zuko mentioning his liking of yellow plumbs, but Sokka wasn’t sure if he ever had any himself. Would Sokka even like this wine?
“I heard,” he said boldly since this lady was so happy to share her opinions, “that the Fire Lord’s lover is from the Water Tribes. Do you think they could’ve shared the wine together?”
“I pay no attention to such rumors,” auntie cut the air with a hand decisively before she turned around and walked back behind the counter. “The Fire Lord is more than a person to us, so we shouldn’t discuss his personal life.”
Sokka walked to the counter as well, carefully placing the bottle on top of it and reaching for his coin purse. He thought the conversation was over, but auntie surprised him by smiling up at him as she put the wine into a small bag for him.
“But if someone from the Water Tribes were to try this wine, they would probably find it not dissimilar to herring-berries that grow on the coastline of the poles.”
Ah, that was something familiar indeed – and, luckily, a flavor Sokka found pleasant.
“Thank you, auntie Sinzi,” he smiled at the woman as he paid for the bottle.
“Of course, dearie,” she bowed at him respectfully, and he did the same.
“Would you mind pointing me to a good butcher, as well? I wanted to purchase a turtle-duck for dinner.”
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There were butcher shops all over the city, but the specific one he was recommended took quite a few minutes to find. Sokka had to weave his way through tight, snake-like alleyways until he finally arrived to a quaint little shop that had seen better days. The sign outside didn’t say any words, only showed a picture of a pig-cow and a turtle-duck. The large glass window in the front of the shop showcased some of the meats and whole animal carcasses, and Sokka determined that they were a good quality after studying them for a while.
He entered the shop and found a heavy-set man behind the counter. His arms were muscular, thicker than Sokka’s whole torso by the looks of it, and he had an expression of someone who didn’t want to be here. He greeted Sokka with only a nod and otherwise continued to sharpen a knife without paying him any more mind, his silver earrings shining in the sunlight cast into the shop unopposed through the large display window.
Sokka looked around, wondering what kind of portrait of Zuko’s he’d find in this shop, but found nothing of the sort. The walls were bare, not counting meat hooks and knife displays. Without thinking, Sokka asked out loud:
“You don’t have any portraits of the Fire Lord?”
The man all but spat at the ground and groaned:
“Zuko’s no Fire Lord of mine!”
Sokka was taken aback by such an attitude, making a step back and raising a confused brow at the butcher. The man didn’t even look at him as he rolled his eyes and continued, the knife getting sharper in his hands that never stopped working:
“We used to be a proper country! The whole world bowed to us in respect, and now? Not a month passes without the ‘Fire Lord’ apologizing to someone for something that was apparently our fault…”
The man cursed under his breath as Sokka blinked at him, not feeling like responding with anything. He could respond. He could say a lot about what the terror the Fire Nation used to be before Zuko’s rule – before team Avatar ended the war. He could talk for a long, long time about all the atrocities he witnessed all across the world perpetrated in the name of Fire Nation’s “glory”.
But he didn’t, it would’ve been a waste of breath, and he really didn’t feel like staying in the company of such a character for any longer than he needed to. Sokka actually had half a mind to just leave and find a more pleasant shop, but that turtle-duck carcass over there looked ever so perfect.
Sokka silently pointed at that carcass, and was happy to see that the butcher put his knife down to go grab it. Sokka still felt the need to throw daggers at the butcher with his eyes as he watched the man wrap his turtle-duck into parchment paper, listening to him prattle on:
“And even here at home, he disgraces our country. He’s not the first Fire Lord to sneak a man into his bed, you know, but why, why does it have to be a foreigner?”
The butcher handed the wrapped-up turtle-duck to Sokka who accepted it into one hand, and handed the payment for it with the other – still without saying anything. The man gave him a once over and lamented:
“Why couldn’t he find a strapping Fire Nation lad, like you?”
“It’s a wonder,” Sokka finally replied through gritted teeth. He didn’t bother expressing any proper goodbye to the man, and simply turned around and left the shop with no further comment.
Hopefully, his next stop was going to be more pleasant.
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An open market square was a nice change after creeping through crammed alleyways, and Sokka spent some time walking through rows of tents and market stalls. He needed a gift, something that wasn’t just useful but also something that wasn’t totally useless. Something pretty. Something that Zuko would look at and his beautiful eyes would light up. What would that be? He knew he’d please Zuko with a weapon, but that wasn’t very romantic. He was already making him dinner so it couldn’t be anything consumable. And Zuko already had all the scented soaps and perfume and creams and hair lotions one could ever possibly need and then some.
Sokka slowed down to a stop next to a jewelry seller’s stall, with a flower display ran by a girl that was surrounded by vases filled with different flowers next to it. The girl couldn’t have been older than ten, and she was enthusiastically fluffing up her merchandise and humming a song under her nose. Sokka smiled fondly at the scene, and then glanced at the jewelry shop keep before he greeted her properly with a short bow. The woman was tall and thin, and the pipe she was smoking was even longer and thinner. Her features revealed her to be the girl’s mother, or perhaps an aunt, and she nodded at Sokka.
“Looking for a present, or something for yourself?” the woman asked, releasing a cloud of smoke away from Sokka’s direction which he appreciated.
“What would be such a gift it would please even the Fire Lord?” Sokka asked, pretending that he was being hyperbolic when, in reality, he was of course being literal.
The woman pursed her lips in thought as she looked over the various pieces of jewelry and hair combs and other knick-knacks spread on top of a velvet rug covering the stall’s counter. The girl hopped up to look over the options too, having to rise her chin high up to even see that far. She looked up at the woman and said:
“Mommy, it has to be the dragon, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it?”
“I think you’re right, Kiko,” the woman smiled, patting the girl on the head and then reaching for a hair stick that Sokka didn’t note as anything particularly interesting.
It was a long wooden stick painted deep red, one point of it narrow and thin, and the other blunt with a gold cap over it. Once the seller raised the hair stick off the velvet, though, she revealed the dragon made of gold that hung off the blunt end of it. The dragon was about half a finger’s length from snout to tip of the tail, with the scales cut out of the gold to make it lighter and airier.
“It’s perfect,” Sokka grinned, and reached for his coin purse hoping there was enough there to pay for it.
“The Fire Lord has such pretty hair,” the girl giggled, and Sokka generously nodded in agreement.
The woman timidly smiled at her daughter’s blatant fondness of the Fire Lord, and explained to Sokka as she waited for him to count his coins:
“We saw Fire Lord Zuko’s procession on their way to the docks, once. Kiko squealed when she saw him, and he actually turned around to wave at her. That was a good day, wasn’t it Kiko?”
“It was the best day!” the girl laughed and jumped in place a few times, unable to contain her excitement. “I only wish I had my flowers with me to gift him!”
“What flowers would you have picked?” Sokka smiled at the girl, but then handed all his money to the shop keep and asked her in a quieter voice: “And do I have enough for flowers in there?”
“It’s fine,” the woman laughed, and accepted the money after giving the coins an evaluating glance. “Kiko, gather five flowers good enough for Fire Lord Zuko for the young man, please.”
“Yes!” the girl beamed and immediately went for a particular flower. They were white and bell-shaped, climbing up tall green stems. Kiko looked at Sokka secretively and added in a whisper: “I’ll even throw in a red ribbon for you.”
“That is very kind of you,” Sokka gratefully replied with a hand on his chest. While the girl busied herself with arranging a nice bouquet for him, Sokka addressed another question to her mother: “Are you as fond of the Fire Lord as your daughter?”
“I don’t know if anyone is as fond of him as Kiko,” the woman laughed and breathed out more smoke from her pipe. “But trade is booming, guard patrols aren’t breathing down our necks, the taxes aren’t climbing up every month like they did during the war… and Water Tribe fashion had never been more popular, especially in the red lantern district.”
The woman looked at him suggestively, raising a brow and inhaling another dose of smoke from her long pipe. Frankly, he never even thought about there being a ‘red lantern district’, but it made sense that there was one in a city as large as this. It was a rather interesting piece of information, though, and something he hadn’t considered. The fact that he, Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe, set some kind of trend in a district like that? That was a thought so strange he really preferred not to think about it at all. Sokka decided he was going to ignore the woman’s knowing stare, and looked up at the sky all-innocently as he waited for his flowers to be ready.
Not only did Kiko indeed tie the flowers with a rather fetching red ribbon, her mother also placed the hair stick inside a beautiful wooden box which, honestly, could’ve been a gift all by itself. Sokka definitely rediscovered his enthusiasm about the Fire Nation after speaking with the mother and daughter duo, which was difficult after that awful butcher. He supposed this place was like everywhere else – you had good apples, you had bad apples, you had all kinds of apples in between.
He was just happy to have found the best apple of them all to share dinner with tonight.
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Sokka snuck inside the kitchens, trying to make sure nobody would report his comings and goings to Zuko and so that he could surprise him with the dinner. The head cook, Mochi, immediately saw him and beamed a wide smile.
“Master Sokka! Just in time!”
“Just in time for what?” Sokka laughed helplessly as he put the turtle duck down on the counter.
“Why, cook Lee Rai quite literally just finished drying out the fish jerky for you.”
Sokka’s eyes lit up, his heart pounding. He followed deeper into the kitchen where he knew the smoking chamber was, and eagerly opened up the lid over the device the cooks used to dry different foods. There they were, perfect strips of fish jerky. Sokka unceremoniously picked up a slice and bit into it, immediately moaning with pleasure.
“Mmn! This is the best!” he approved with generous nods, patting Lee Rai on the shoulder. The cook only smiled at him and bowed, expressing his appreciation much more subtly than Sokka was happy to do. He swallowed the jerky and addressed his next words to the head cook again: “That is not why I’m here, though. I was hoping to prepare the dinner for Zuko tonight.”
“What a splendid endeavor, master Sokka,” the man spread his arms. “The staff is, of course, at your disposal and happy to assist.”
“Well, I was going to do it all myself. But if you have any advice as to what Zuko prefers…”
“As long as you don’t put tarragon anywhere near it, it all should be well,” Mochi laughed heartily, returning back to stirring a large pot with what Sokka presumed was food for the staff.
“Oh?” Sokka’s ears perked up with interest as he unwrapped the paper from around the turtle duck, and then reached for a hatchet knife hanging above the work top.
“Yes, I remember back in the days when his father was merely a prince, we had to cook a separate batch for prince Zuko if the family ever wanted a dish with tarragon,” his voice went dreamy as he reminisced, a fond smile curving his mouth. “Prince Zuko would make sure to come down to the kitchens and thank us for ‘sparing him the indecency of refusing it at the table’, he would say.”
“Was it unusual for him to come down here and speak with you?”
“Yes, very much so. Traditionally, the royal family would never be expected to associate themselves with staff in such a casual manner. Fire Lady Ursa knew most of the palace staff by name, and must’ve imparted her appreciation for the smallfolk to Fire Lord Zuko. He still honors us by coming down here and having a conversation with us even now – no Fire Lord before him ever did so, at least not in my memory.”
Sokka looked down at the plucked turtle-duck beneath his knife, and continued to slice the breasts off it. As much as he knew Ursa to have been a good person and mother, Sokka still wondered if it wasn’t Zuko’s time in exile that truly inspired him to be considerate and mindful of the common people in his care. It would’ve been hard to be snooty at staff when you lived among the poor refugees at Ba Sing Se during the war, wouldn’t it?
Sokka also wondered if Zuko would’ve been as fond of him if he was never exiled. Azula was always very dismissive of his person, and since they had the same upbringing… No. He probably should never compare Zuko to Azula. Other than their parents and shared childhood, they had nothing else in common.
“Oh, and, master Sokka,” the head cook called him over, suddenly appearing by Sokka’s side. “Once you are done preparing your meal, do make sure that the royal food taster has a try of each element.”
“I don’t… really think that’s going to be necessary,” Sokka shrugged, “I’m going to prepare everything myself.”
“Of course, master Sokka, but would you be able to ensure with outmost, beyond-a-smidgen-of-a-doubt certainty that you never took your eyes off a single grain of rice as you prepared the meal?”
Sokka looked at the man for a long time, trying to gather the confidence to be able to answer a resounding ‘yes’. But could he, really?
“Yes, Mochi,” he eventually conceded, his shoulders falling. “I will get it all tasted first.”
“Splendid, master Sokka,” Mochi, bowed at his wisdom, and retreated back to the large pot with the staff meal that still needed tending.
Alright, so Zuko wouldn’t be the first person to try his cooking, it would be the royal food taster. But ensuring that Zuko wouldn’t keel over and die after taking a bite was important and ultimately a good thing, right?
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Sokka looked at himself in the mirror and set his hair free of the Fire Nation-style pin that was holding it up. The front locks framed his face, others falling down his shoulders, and he winked at himself. It was all going according to plan. Mochi helped him secure a tea room for the dinner, the best one that had a lovely balcony that overlooked the rock garden spread beneath it. The table was set, the wine was ready to be corked, and Sokka’s gift for Zuko was carefully hidden under a cushion that he himself was going to occupy. Sokka only had himself to prepare now, which is what he was busy with here in the bath house.
Clean and scenting of jasmine soap, Sokka got dressed back into his usual Water Tribe garb that he noticed got washed and neatly folded while he was gone. The palace staff was very dutiful and rarely needed to be asked to do anything, and Sokka really hoped he wouldn’t get used to that since there was no such service awaiting him back home in the South Pole.
He held the hair comb he made himself out of whale bone between his teeth while his hands were busy tightening the warrior tail at the back of his head, and then brushed the top of his hair with the comb a few times to ensure every strand of hair was in its place. Perfect.
A shell necklace returned to his neck, as well as a longer necklace with leopard seal-rhino teeth that now rested between his collar bones, exposed by the folds of his blue tunic. He tied a deep blue strip of leather around his right upper arm, and then put on half-gloves on both hands. Finally, when Sokka looked back in the mirror, he looked like himself for the first time today. As fun as it was to blend in with the locals, he never felt better than when he wore Water Tribe colors over his body. Except, of course, when he had nothing on his body except Zuko’s hands.
Trying not to think about that too much so as to prevent his face from growing redder than it needed to be, Sokka headed towards the tea room with energized steps, excited to finally spend some time with Zuko after a long day of only seeing him through the eyes of his subjects.
Sokka walked into the tea room and thanked the maid that was left there by Mochi, to ensure that nobody approached the Fire Lord’s food. There was so much security involved around a simple dinner when royalty was involved!
“Master Sokka, I hope you will forgive me,” the maid said to him after bowing in greeting, her hands folded over her legs and her head hung low in supplication. “I took the liberty of rearranging the flowers in the vase.”
“That’s fine, of course,” Sokka assured her with an awkward chuckle and a wave of a hand. Still, he was a bit confused as to why she needed to do that. “Was there… something wrong with my arrangement?”
The maid covered her mouth with both hands as she giggled so quietly it was almost imperceptible, and then brought her hands back down as she explained, her eyes never leaving the floor:
“Master Sokka’s arrangement was customary for the second day of funerals. I pointed the flowers North-East, as is traditional for a meal among family and friends.”
“O-oh, thank you,” Sokka rubbed the back of his neck, color filling his cheeks despite his best efforts. “Well, that’s good, then, I didn’t want this to be a funeral.”
She giggled behind a hand again, and then bowed and left the room with tiny steps that were also almost silent. Left alone in the room, Sokka allowed himself to slouch and let out a long, shaky sigh. So many rules, even about flowers! He hoped he wasn’t going to insult Zuko by giving him a hair pin, too, or by pouring wine for him. Though, even if he did, Zuko would most likely laugh at him rather than take actual offense. He enjoyed making Zuko laugh, even if it was at his own expense sometimes.
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All worries left his heart when he saw Zuko walks through the door and slide it shut behind himself, with the subtlest of smiles on his lips. And it wasn’t the Fire Lord this time, accompanied by attendants and wearing a crown on his head, buried beneath layers of ceremonial robes and gold pauldrons. It was Zuko, his friend and his… well, his Zuko. His hair lacked the crown, only tied into a simple high ponytail with the front sections left free to frame his face. His shoulders only bore a simple red and brown blouse, with sleeves coming down to his elbows. There wasn’t anything threatening or grand about the embroidery of his clothes, only simple leaf and wave patterns here and there.
And his face, his beautiful porcelain face, it expressed only relief and affection when Zuko looked at him. How could anyone see him and not think him gorgeous?
“Sokka,” Zuko called him, and walked closer to take both his hands into his. He brought his face closer as well, and only stopped an inch away to ask: “Did tea finally grow on you?”
“I just like this room,” Sokka chuckled in response, letting his forehead touch Zuko’s. “We’ll be drinking something a lot more fun than tea.”
Oh, how unbearably difficult it was not to let their kiss last all the way through the night! But he had a dinner to serve, and it wasn’t getting any fresher, so Sokka withdrew his face and broke their kiss just as Zuko parted his lips with the hope to deepen it. The disappointed and frustrated expression on Zuko’s face was quite amusing, but Sokka managed to let it go and step away to present Zuko with their dinner table with a wide gesture of a hand. With his other hand he kept holding one of Zuko’s, leading him towards the seat cushion he designated for the other.
“What are we having?” Zuko asked enthusiastically, though a tinge of tiredness was present in his voice.
Sokka sat down on the cushion across the small table from Zuko, and took his time uncorking the wine is pouring it into two identical clay cups. His heart was beating fast, right up at his throat from what it felt like, but he managed to swallow down all nervousness and keep his voice steady as he presented each element on the table.
“This here is, apparently, the best yellow plumb wine from Fire Lord Zoryu’s personal reserve,” Sokka boasted, glancing up at Zuko to find him barely being able to contain an eyeroll at the blatantness of Sokka’s lie. “This is a cold summer salad with turtle-duck roasted by Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe,” Sokka opened the lid from a larger, more colorful bowl set in front of Zuko, and then off the identical one that was set in front of himself. Zuko’s face seemed genuinely impressed as he looked over the dish, eagerly awaiting the announcement of what was hidden in the last bowls. Sokka smirked, and put on the most innocent voice he could as he presented: “And this is something I’m especially proud of, since I’ve never cooked tarragon rice before.”
It was absolutely hilarious, and Sokka found it incredibly hard to hold his face to remain enthusiastic and unassuming as he attentively studied Zuko’s reaction. He saw poignant and primal terror flash behind the gold of Zuko’s eyes as his eyebrow twitched up, and his lips curved downwards. It was only a fraction of a second later that Zuko put on a pleased albeit strained expression, looking up at Sokka and nodding in acknowledgment. Being around politicians all day trained Zuko to manage his apparent emotions very well, but for someone that knew him as intimately as Sokka it was easy to see just how much Zuko was dreading this rice.
“Try it!” Sokka grinned, innocently blinking with his blue eyes that he knew Zuko was fond of.
Zuko looked down at the rice, and Sokka was sure he saw a bead of sweat roll down his temple. He cautiously lifted the bowl up in one hand, his other hand slowly bringing chopsticks towards the rice. Sokka did the same to his own rice, and even ate a few pieces just to show how tasty it was – it was actually very delicious, even if it contained not a single leaf of tarragon. Zuko, meanwhile, grew a little paler as he closed his eyes and finally placed a clump of rice into his mouth, holding his breath as if to try and spare himself the taste as much as he could. Sokka was finding it more and more difficult not to laugh, and even brought up a hand to press the back of it against his lips.
Zuko’s eyes slowly opened, and he looked at Sokka with so much exasperation it finally broke his composure. Sokka laughed loudly, slapping his knee and wheezing. He eventually choked on some rice and had to cough into a closed fist, with tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, but it was all totally worth it.
Zuko squinted at him, and calmly ate his rice as he watched Sokka try to compose himself which only took another minute or two. When his laughter finally quieted down, Sokka reached for the cup of wine to take a generous sip and feel the fruity, rich liquid run down his irritated throat and sooth it.
“There’s no tarragon in this,” Zuko stated evenly, and had a sip of wine himself as he sternly looked at Sokka over the edge of his cup.
“No,” Sokka nodded affirmatively once he placed his cup back on the table and wolfed down a bunch more food. He added with a charming smile that was only ruined by the amount of food he still had in his mouth: “Just wanted to see how much you’re willing to sacrifice for me.”
Zuko shook his head at him helplessly, but apparently couldn’t resist the smile that crept up his lips. And that was exactly what Sokka wanted to see – and continued to encourage as they ate and, more importantly, as they continued drinking wine together. It got easier and easier to make Zuko laugh with each cup they put away, until eventually both the food and the wine were gone, and it was time for the finishing move of this romantic dinner.
Sokka cracked his neck as if preparing for a battle, and finally presented the beautiful wooden box that contained his gift within it to Zuko. He held eye contact with Sokka as he reached for it, only looking down once the box was open in his lap. The captivating gold eyes lit up just like Sokka wished they would, and the pink on Zuko’s face brought on by the wine intensified like he didn’t dare hoping. Zuko placed the box on the table carefully, and with both hands studied the intricate gold dragon that dangled from the tip of the red wooden hair stick.
“Do you mind helping me put it in my hair, please?” Zuko asked him oh-so-politely, his smile reaching his eyes. How could Sokka ever say no to that face?
He stood up to walk around the small table, and then sat down on his knees facing Zuko’s left side. After carefully slipping the hair stick out of Zuko’s hand, he kissed his scarred cheek and then pretended like he didn’t just do that while he started working on Zuko’s hair. The ponytail was a good start, so he simply handled it in one hand and twisted it into a bun, and then very easily stuck the hair stick through it. Sokka very slowly withdrew his hands, holding his breath and hoping the hair would stay in place – and it did!
Releasing a short laugh, Sokka tapped at the gold dragon to make it dance in the air, and then looked over at the profile of Zuko who was attentively looking at him out of the corner of his eye. Out of the corner of his ‘bad’ eye, to be precise – though Sokka detested referring to it that way even in his thoughts. There was nothing bad about it, it was as lovely as his other eye. It lacked the pretty long lashes or the usually sternly tense eyebrow, but otherwise it was perfectly lovely.
With a small sigh Sokka raised a hand and cleared all hair away from this side of Zuko’s face, and held it back. Zuko’s eye widened a little in surprise at the tenderness of his gesture, but then his posture relaxed when Sokka slowly came closer to kiss the scarred earlobe. He closed his own eyes and kissed the top of Zuko’s ear, and then the space right by his ear, and then his cheek, and his eye, and the tip of his nose. Still holding back the hair on Zuko’s left side with a hand, Sokka brought his other hand up to cup Zuko’s face and encourage it to turn towards himself.
He opened his eyes and gazed deeply into Zuko’s who stared back at him just as attentively. There were so many things in those eyes, in that face. He was a person, not more and not less. And he was beautiful.
“Is there something on your mind, Sokka?” Zuko asked in a quiet voice, the smile still present in his eyes.
“Other than you?” Sokka asked him back, laughing in something akin to disbelief at the suggestion there could be anything else on his mind.
Forget his mind, right now Sokka scarcely acknowledged there was even a world around them. He tilted his head and pressed his lips against Zuko’s, deepening the kiss as soon as he heard the long, pleased exhale pass through Zuko’s nose. His breath was hot against his skin, just like it always was, and Sokka hummed into Zuko’s lips as he led his hand further along the side of Zuko’s face until his fingers tightened around the back of his neck. Sokka could hear the faint jingle of the gold dragon that just found its perch in Zuko’s hair when Zuko tilted his head further and wrapped his strong arm around Sokka’s shoulders to bring him closer.
He didn’t just come closer, he made himself comfortable in Zuko’s lap as he straddled his legs and kissed him from above. Zuko grabbed his waist with one hand, and plunged his other hand inside Sokka’s tunic. His warm, rough palm ran over Sokka’s bare chest and stomach and slid around his side to press against his back, pushing Sokka closer to Zuko. Sokka could taste the wine on Zuko’s tongue, making his thoughts tingle in his head as much as his fingertips did as they ran over Zuko’s face.
Sokka slowly broke their lips apart and raised his eyelids to look at Zuko once again. He let a pause settle between them as Zuko looked back at him, patiently waiting for whatever it was Sokka stopped them for.
“So…” Sokka began, breathless and grinning stupidly. “…You like my cooking, huh?”
Zuko laughed, the question clearly unexpected for him. That was exactly what Sokka wanted to happen. As much as he enjoyed making out with Zuko and feeling his hands run all over him, he’d never trade hearing Zuko laugh for the world.
How lucky was he for getting to enjoy both?