Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sokka wiped a line of sweat off his forehead, leaning back against a nearby tree as he tried to catch his breath after experiencing a sudden catapult into the towering foliage. A sudden and unwanted treetop climb was not what he was expecting to deal with today. 

After an unexpected run-in with the Fire Nation during an attempt to lay low ironically back-fired on them, the three of them found themselves meeting up with a small-scale rebel group that had dispatched the Fire Nation troops with surprising skill. They were led by a punk named Jet who was overflowing with confidence and what Sokka interpreted as a constant snide attitude. Despite what Sokka would have liked, the group decided to cool off with the rebels instead of being on their way, and offered a generous chance to see their hideout in person. 

(Frustratingly enough, Katara seemed to think otherwise; even Aang was charmed by them.) 

It took only a minute or two for his opinion of Jet to sour, especially when the older boy sent him on a rapid climb to his hideout via a loop of rope and a counterweight. 

So the warrior couldn’t really find it in himself to take in the sights of the treehouse, or spend time socializing with Jet or his followers when he was already in a bad mood to begin with. He really only managed the tour they got before he split off from the group for the chance to be alone. It was hotter than he was expecting this time of year. It didn’t really help that the forest was far more humid than he was planning for, and it was hard to concentrate. 

Sokka found himself avoiding everybody as much as possible, mapping out the layout of the glorified treehouse just in case. He was willing to nurse his bad mood in peace by himself up until he heard that Jet was calling everyone together for a group meeting and a celebratory meal. His own rumbling stomach aside, he knew Katara and Aang would be there too, and he’d be damned if he let them swallow whatever Jet was telling them without being there to set things in order. Someone needed to keep an eye on the kids after all, even someone like him. 

Even if he was fighting the Fire Nation, there was just something about Jet that Sokka didn't like or trust. Hearing how he talked, how quick he was to jump into tying his sad story to Katara's… well, the warrior could only say that it irked him bad. And he needed to get to the bottom of it. 

It didn’t help that Jet was rank with Alpha pheromones and Sokka had no patience for that. 

Sokka had a lasting history of his dislike for Alphas and their bull-headed, hormonal temper tantrums and arrogance; his sister was among the better ones, but she certainly wasn't immune to it either. The only reason why the Alpha warriors treated him with any respect at all was because he was the son of the Chief, his lack of inheritance aside. And roughly one moment after his first encounter with the Angry Prince, Sokka was left feeling wary and anxious, jabbing his knife repeatedly into a block of ice so he wouldn’t have to think about being easily overcome by the Fire Nation. It would have been far better if he had been born as a convenient and rational Beta like his father, and having the natural layer of respect that came with it… 

But Sokka wasn't really known for having the best luck in the world. 

But that didn’t mean he was going to stand aside and let everyone else do the fighting either. 

Groaning in annoyance, Sokka straightened up and made his way back to the meeting, slipping past the mostly younger kid rebels to where his sister and the young Avatar were waiting, dropping down to sit with a plop. Thanks to his mood, he couldn’t even get a decent meal down. 

He didn’t pay much attention to the rebel as he hyped up the gathered kids by talking about how badly they'd whipped the Fire Nation. It wasn't much out of the ordinary; it was just posturing and bragging about their abilities. (In truth, Sokka had done similar behaviors more than once, but he quickly found out that no one ever took those words seriously when they came from the mouth of an Omega.) On top of how hot it was feeling around there, he was beginning to wonder why he'd even showed up to listen. Well, Sokka continued thinking that right up until Jet finished his speech and walked himself over to sit down right next to them. 

Sokka thumbed at his nose irritably. Ugh, that musk… Maybe Katara’s Alpha nose was weaker than his (and Aang was a special case), but that didn’t mean she couldn’t smell it at all, right? He glazed over Katara's bubbled praise of the rebel's speech, ignoring Sokka's sideways glance at her unnecessary enthusiasm. (Did she not notice what Jet was yet?) It wasn't until Jet started complimenting them back that he started paying more attention. 

"...By the way, I was really impressed with you and Aang. That was some great bending I saw out there today," Jet said appreciatively, though Sokka thought he heard a layer of slyness underneath. He had caused that impression from the very beginning though.

Katara clasped her hands together and looked away, "Well, he's great. He's the Avatar." Sokka wanted to protest at her blurting that information out to a guy they didn't know (they were supposed to be undercover!), but he already wasn't feeling good and the girl only plowed on with a blush that made her brother feel queasy inside. "I could use some more training…"

Thankfully, it was an opening that Jet didn't take, "Avatar, huh? Very nice."

Frustrating enough that the 'Freedom Fighter' was ignoring Sokka's presence there, but not a word about him also being at the fight (even just the hits Jet stole from him.) 

Still Aang was too swept up by the supposed comradery to pay it any mind, "Thanks Jet!" Aang piped up, just as eager to make friends and immune to the pressure Sokka felt as ever. He was enviable. Neither Alpha, Beta, or Omega, the Avatar was something greater than that. Something without a name or limitations like him. But jealous as he might be, Sokka couldn't really hold it against the kid for not understanding why this bothered him. 

Jet grinned and leaned forward slightly like the group of them were all conspirators in something, "So I might know a way that you and Aang can help in our struggle."

And that was the cue to leave, loud and clear.

"Unfortunately, we have to leave tonight," Sokka stood, ready to make his dramatic exit and leave this awful red forest behind them. But this was the moment when his plans started to go wrong. He'd barely taken a step to go when his knees almost buckled, and was forced to grab a hold of a low-hanging branch to avoid falling over. Sokka covered his mouth with his free hand to muffle an involuntary noise, not wanting to look so weak right now, of all times. His body was overheating in a way that wasn't normal, unless… 

Unless. 

Sokka cursed himself for not keeping track of the days, and not seeing this coming.

Katara was at his side in an instant, her face quickly overtaken with worry and a hand finding his forehead. "Sokka, you're burning up! You should have said something if you were sick. Here, you should sit down and get some of the soup." The about-face from giving Jet doe-eyes to fussing over him might have been funny if Sokka was in a better position to appreciate it. At the very least, Jet’s hanger-ons were starting to disperse so they weren’t drawing a crowd.

And speaking of Jet… He was flat-out staring at Sokka, not smirking or looking particularly suspicious anymore, but more bemused, like he didn't know what to make of this situation. 

Sokka looked away, hiding his building embarrassment and trying to ignore the other boy’s presence. "I'm ok, Katara," He grumbled, waving off her concern and protests with a wave of his hand, “I just need my suppressant and I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

“O-oh!” His sister paused, wrinkling her nose in response to the words, more out of instinct than actual reaction. Katara couldn't actually pick up the scent; blood relations were convenient that way. If they weren't guests in an unfamiliar tree house, Sokka wouldn't have a problem letting her think that he was just sick. Less embarrassing that way. “Aang, do you still have our bag? I think we kept them in there…” She held out her hand for the bag that the young Avatar had taken to carry their extra supplies around in. 

Aang paused, face reddening. “Um, was it those capsule looking things?” He asked hesitantly, and all of a sudden Sokka felt a spike of dread. 

“Did something happen to them?” Katara pressed, a layer of worry in her voice.

The kid Avatar rubbed at his neck and avoided her eyes, holding the little satchel close to his chest, “Well, I saw Momo snacking on them and I just thought they were seeds at first and–” He cut himself off, meeting Sokka’s eyes apologetically. “Sorry, I don’t think there are any left.”

“What!?” Sokka exclaimed, quickly turning to bury his face in the crook of his elbow.

What a fantastic situation , he thought sarcastically.

At this point, Sokka might have to hide out in the woods with Appa for the next few days and leave the others on their own. He wouldn’t be able to do any good otherwise until the phase passed (and the unpleasantness of waiting that out well...he didn’t even want to think about it). That didn’t change the fact that he hated the idea though; of leaving Aang and Katara in this rebel nest without him to keep an eye out for any suspicion. 

"Y'know, if privacy is what you need, I happen to have a solution." Jet's voice cut through the warrior's resignation, causing him to look over sharply to find him smiling again. "We happen to have a cabin up here in the hideout some distance away from others, used pretty much for that exact purpose." He stood up and pointed off in another direction, where a solitary bridge stretched apart from the others. Sokka didn't miss how no one was frequenting that path. 

Still, Sokka hesitated, chewing on his lip, feeling uncertain. It sounded like a good idea. But he didn't want to trust Jet's suggestions even though it sounded good enough to work. "Well…"

"That's a great idea!" Katara cut in, clasping her hands together, "That way you can stay nearby while you wait it out. And I can keep you updated.” Sokka gave her a dry look, silently questioning why she was so excited over a simple solution. “What? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t really have another choice in the matter, did he?

“Fine,” Sokka said, rubbing at his forehead, which was starting to sweat, “I’ll go check out this cabin.” Sokka wanted to stop and give his sister and Aang a host of warnings to watch out for, and to keep an eye on the ‘Freedom Fighters’ as well, but they probably weren’t going to take him seriously, not with Jet’s charm having won them over. Having been doubled over from the increasing pressure on his gut, the warrior pressed his hands to his knees to try to stand up straight, when he was interrupted by an arm hooking around his side to lift him to his feet. It was Jet, holding him upright and supporting him. “What the heck do you think you’re doing?”

“C’mon, Sokka, I think we all know you’re gonna have some trouble by yourself,” Jet said airily, and then that damnable smirk was back on his face. Sokka wanted to protest that but...Jet was probably right, as much as he hated that. And he definitely didn’t want to have his sister carry him either. “Aang! Katara!” The rebel gave them both a light wave, “You two should go ahead and get some rest tonight. I'll make sure your brother gets there safely.”

Katara didn't even protest. She really was so trusting. 

Or maybe because it was Jet. 

Sokka was torn between feeling frustrated about how quick she was to trust, or queasy over her taste in guys. Or maybe it was actually a bit of both. Sokka shook his head, the pressure of the other boy’s arm on him was more than enough to distract him from worrying about Katara. 

Jet's gait was easy and relaxed as he led the warrior down the line path. But he still seemed to notice that the other boy was bothered, grinning down at him with an arched brow, “What’s wrong, Sokka? I'm starting to think that you don't want to spend any time with me."

Not having Aang and Katara around meant that Sokka could be a little bolder with his words, so he barely hesitated. "Are you really that surprised?” He bit out, wanting so much to wipe that look off of Jet’s face, but had no idea how to accomplish it. “Of course I'm not in a good mood after seeing you act all flirty with my sister for the past few hours."

Jet blinked at him, seeming momentarily at a loss, before throwing back his head and laughing. "Oh Sokka," He leaned back in, flashing his teeth, "if you thought that was me flirting, then you should see what I can do when I'm actually trying. " 

Sokka jerked his head away and covered his mouth and nose with his palm. The more time he spent in the other boy’s company, the more appealing his Alpha scent started to become. He knew (not from prior experience thankfully), but from what his grandmother taught him, that the sensation would only continue to grow, until the logic and plans he cultivated were overwhelmed by something much worse. Luckily it was not really to the point where he'd lose his head over it. Yet. That's why having some space to himself was so important anyway. As it was, Sokka was still clear-headed enough to pick up on Jet's words, "Wait, so that means you weren't actually…"

“Nope.” Jet gave a one-sided shrug, “I’m telling you that I was just being a gentleman. It’s not my fault if she thought it meant more than it actually was.”

It didn't... seem like he was lying. “Then maybe you should tell her that,” Sokka grumbled. He was caught between feeling relieved that there was probably nothing to it, and annoyed that Jet either hadn’t realized or hadn’t tried to clear things up. Was this normal for him?

“Alright, if you insist,” Jet drawled, adjusted his grip on Sokka’s side. “Though I think she could use a little rest tonight. I’ll clear things up with her in the morning if that will make you happy.”

“O-oh, thanks…” Sokka found himself relaxing without meaning to. Every instinct in him was telling him that this was the truth. Maybe it was a bit strange that Jet seemed far more honest now talking to him–a stranger–than he did ten minutes ago in front of his crew, but Sokka could take that with some degree of grace. He still didn’t really trust Jet, but he could say with some confidence that what happened with Katara really was a misunderstanding. Still, he was surprisingly calm considering. It was a good thing but he couldn't help but wonder, quiet enough that he had barely realized he'd spoken out loud, "Do you...not even smell it?"

"Hmm?" Jet glanced sideways at him. "Sure I do. I thought I wasn't supposed to say anything about that. Why? Were you worried that I was going to jump you or something?" He laughed again, expression clear and confident. "Do you think I'm that bad of a guy, Sokka?"

"No…" Sokka admitted. Even his suspicion didn't run that far. Maybe it was because his instincts were yelling 'danger,' but Jet was acting more like a Beta than what his senses were telling him, far more...controlled than an average Alpha. Despite his heavy scent marker. It left Sokka vaguely confused on what to expect next. 

Jet seemed content to leave him to his thoughtful silence thankfully, leaving Sokka to concentrate on keeping his footing. As they made their way over the rope bridge to the isolated shack, Jet had slung Sokka’s closest arm over his shoulder so he wouldn’t fall, and the warrior felt a humiliated heat rising to his cheeks. If he was able to walk all this way on his own… 

“Well, here we are,” Jet announced, looking up at the shack before them. It wasn’t a particularly note-worthy building; the only way it looked any different from the other shacks in the hideout was the thick shutters on the windows. Sokka shrugged off Jet’s grip and stumbled over to the door. He cracked it open and looked inside, finding a comfortable room mostly filled by a large, cushy bed, and only a faint bit of light filtered through the roughly latched shutters. A few candles sat on a stand next to the bed, ready to be lit. All in all, a fairly cozy little space. 

But still, all the amenities couldn't stop Sokka from grumbling in frustration knowing he'd be stuck here for days while he trusted Jet to look after Aang and Katara. It left a bad taste in his mouth. 

There was a very good reason why he relied so heavily on the suppressants. 

Jet was still there though and he picked up on Sokka’s disappointment immediately, “What’s wrong with it? You gotta admit I’m not exactly living in the lap of luxury out here.”

“No, that’s not–” Sokka rubbed at his hot forehead irritably, “There’s nothing wrong with the...the room. But we’re in a hurry. We can’t afford to ‘hang around’ here for a few days like this.” Even if he didn’t feel uncomfortable in Jet’s “lair,” that still didn’t mean Sokka wanted to waste time being inconvenienced by his own biology that had the audacity to rebel against him. It was out of his hands anyway. "Doesn't really matter I guess. I can't do anything about it."

He drifted inside, pressing a palm into the sheets to feel their softness, feeling the dread of what was to come dull ever so slightly. 

Strangely though, Jet hadn't left yet. He had started to, turned away and rubbed at his neck for a moment before spinning back around. Now he was standing just outside the threshold, one hand on the door frame, a slightly conflicted expression on his face. As much as a guy like him could look conflicted that is. "What?" Sokka asked him, annoyed. "Was there something else you wanted right now? You know that I'm on a time limit here, right?"

"I was just thinking…" Jet leaned back on his heels, rocking slightly with a casual sense of balance that Sokka instinctively envied. "You know that there is another way out of your predicament? One that could cut your problem down from days to a single night?"

Sokka’s brain stalled for a few moments while he tried to connect Jet’s sentence to a meaning that made some kind of sense. But there was only one thing he could have meant. Even though Jet had convinced the warrior that his attention towards Katara meant nothing, turning around and making this kind of move felt surreal. Sokka fought the urge to slap at his cheeks as if to wake himself from what could be a weird dream. (Though what that could potentially say about him...best not to linger on it too long.)

He couldn’t really mean…that?

“You?” The taller boy’s simple nod was enough to get Sokka defensive again in a second, “I thought you just said a minute ago that you weren’t going to jump me.”

Jet chuckled, “I didn’t think it was considered ‘jumping’ if I asked permission first.”

Sokka felt his hackles rising as he fought an internal war with the Omega hunger churning in his gut he tried his best to ignore. Sokka gripped the nightstand hard, willing himself to calm down, and relying on the sting in his palm from the rough wood grain to ground him. He looked away resolutely and bit out, “I’m not interested in guys.” Not that his preference was really so defined with his limited breadth of knowledge on the subject, or mattered that much back home. 

Jet just lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug as though that didn’t mean much, leaning against the frame, “Then it shouldn’t mean anything to you, Sokka. Besides, that is the easiest way to cut a heat short. You did say that you didn’t want to be stuck in my ‘treehouse’ very long.” He gave Sokka a sideways glance, “I’m lending a helping hand. The choice to reject it is yours.”

Sokka wanted to ask why Jet was alright with this idea. He seemed like such a...ladies man? Heart-breaker? Not the type to give Sokka a second glance, yet he was stubborn about trying to appeal to him. He wasn’t willing to broach that and said instead, “What do you get out of this?”

“Besides the experience?” Jet smirked. 

Sokka reddened and didn’t answer, choosing not to respond to his jokes. 

“Alright fine, besides that, I have a mission lined up tomorrow that I happen to be able to use your help on, if you were feeling at your best. Up until now, I was starting to think I’d have to go without you.” Jet was observant enough to notice how Sokka perked up at the mention of a ‘mission.’ “Interested? It’s really just scouting but it’s still very important. And I'm sure you'd prefer that over being here, no matter how comfy the sheets are."

Why was Jet so good at making an argument? 

Sokka was already dealing with their fight against the Fire Nation, and his unwillingness to be there. Not to mention that the ever-growing urge coiling in his gut was only going to get worse. 

Sokka had been forced to deal with a few lonely heats before, when access to Gran-gran’s homemade suppressants was sparse, and the experience was nothing short of torturous. And maybe he’d never... done it before–and there was no way in the frozen wastes that Sokka was going to tell him that–but messing around a little with a punk like Jet couldn’t possibly be as bad as all that...right? It wouldn’t actually mean anything. 

(Or at least, that’s what Sokka told himself at the time. Much later, when they were flying away on Appa, he would wonder how much of his decision was influenced by his condition. Had he said yes to Jet’s offer because he was clear-minded enough to see there was logic in it? Or because of the tingling energy under his skin, the desperate hunger in his belly, and the fact that by that point Jet was starting to smell so good that Sokka had to remind himself that he was supposed to dislike him? There was no way to know. The line was too thin to tell.)

“Alright, fine.” Sokka said out loud, barely able to listen to what he was saying for fear that he’d start having second thoughts, “So how do you want to do this?”

“Wow, just wanna get right to it, huh?” Jet grinned, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. That simple action scent Sokka’s pulse racing, like his body just knew what that meant. “You’re looking kinda worked up, Sokka. You might want to sit down before you fall down.”

Feeling the heat rise to his face, Sokka backed into the bed, and–struck with a sudden realization–raised up a hand to stop Jet from advancing any further. “Wait! Hold on a second, I need to...lay down some ground rules.” 

Jet arched a brow at him and stopped, and the shadows falling over his face gave him an air that shouldn’t have sent a bolt of expectation through Sokka’s mind.

And still, somehow, did. 

He moved on in a rush before the feeling could catch up to him and interrupt his train of thought, “First off: you’re not gonna tell anyone else about us doing this here. This doesn’t leave this room, okay? I have a reputation to keep here.”

Jet raised a brow at him, a faint amusement curling his lips, “You know your sister’s gonna find out something tomorrow anyway when your ‘illness’ has mysteriously vanished, right?” 

Sokka's cheeks glowed, not looking forward to that future conversation. At the very least, Katara's ill-conceived crush was about to get railroaded. "Besides her," He confirmed, waiting for Jet's nod to continue. "Second, this doesn't come off at any point," Sokka indicated the whalebone choker around his neck, tapping it with a finger. It didn't hold that much symbolism for him, besides as another mark of his warrior training (something that the elders never approved of, but his Dad insisted). But it did rest very conveniently as a shield over his mating mark, hiding it from view and touch. The clasp was small and tightly wound, hard enough to remove in the heat of the moment; and it wasn’t as though Sokka spent much time without it. 

Jet was smart enough to need no explanation (or raise any kind of complaint) on that point. 

The last point was something that Sokka didn’t really believe Jet would do anyway, but he had to say it regardless. His voice was hard when he spoke, “And lastly, just know that if you somehow manage to knock me up, I will kill you.”

“Hey, hey,” The rebel held up his hands placatingly, still not losing the humor from his voice and face, “I’m a little more careful than that. Besides, that would be pretty inconvenient for me too, don’t you think, Sokka? I’m not ready for that, especially while I’m busy fighting the Fire Nation.” Jet’s smirk dropped into something more pensive as he crossed the distance between them after Sokka offered no more objections, heavy-lidded gaze meeting the warrior’s. “Just let me help you, Sokka. You don’t have to like me, but you need this. I’ll make you strong again, and maybe you’ll end up enjoying this almost as much as I will.”

Sokka wanted to say something to that, some kind of objection. Not to the proposition, but his inappropriate teasing. But he couldn’t think of what to say, or even get the words out if he could. 

He couldn’t delay any longer without losing his mind and Jet was still right: he needed this. 

Jet’s earlier words about the bed came back to him as his stance became unsteady, pulling himself onto it as Jet followed him eagerly, the plush surface dipping around them. Jet propped himself up over the warrior’s sprawled body, and Sokka didn’t push him back.

No going back now. 

His breath came out short as the taller boy reached for his hair, tangling his fingers in it, loosening his wolf-tail, while the other started toying vaguely with the belt around his waist. Despite how eager Jet seemed to get this opportunity, the first few moments of his attention were surprisingly exploratory; Jet was downright shamelessly ogling him without a word or sudden movement while Sokka fought the impulse to urge him to get a move on. 

But it didn’t take much time at all for him to surge into action, thankfully. 

Sokka dodged the kiss Jet aimed at his lips, causing him to chuckle and go for the warrior’s jawline instead, tracing it up to the crook of his ear with wet little noises, all while Sokka’s instinctive drive burned from the electric sensation of the Alpha’s lips on his skin. The air around them was heady with that telltale Alpha musk, and the sharp pulse of hunger it produced was no less helped by Jet’s fingers pressing into his sides, expertly messaging him through the layers of his clothes. Not for the first time, Sokka wondered how many times he’d done this. How experienced he'd have to be not to show the slightest trace of nervousness on his face.

Still, he couldn’t just lay there and just let things happen to him. Sokka still had some pride. 

So, growling in impatience, he reached up with unsteady hands and grappled with the buckles on Jet’s shoulders, loosening his asymmetrical guards and tossed them aside. Jet, quickly catching onto his intent, grinned and started yanking off Sokka’s boots while he was working at removing the rest of the rebel’s armor, until the both of them were down to just tunic and pants. 

Not that that was going to last long. Jet was already untying the belt holding Sokka’s blue tunic in place, loosening it enough that he was able to push the cloth down to expose one shoulder, nipping at it with his teeth. The increasing pace of his breathing and wild light in his eyes were the only indicators of how his previously impressive self-control was beginning to falter.

But at this point Sokka no longer cared as much as he did earlier. 

Seeing so much of Jet exposed before him–freed from his dark clothes and shell–was doing something funny to his brain. It was awakening some kind of hunger that he’d never been aware of before. Something that dwelled beneath the surface, waiting for just the right chance to be brought to light.

( ‘Omega instincts,’ he would tell himself before all of this started. ‘It doesn’t mean anything.’ )

But he couldn’t really rely on clear-minded logic like this anymore. His instincts were usually right. Maybe he should just listen to what they were telling him. At least for now. 

So Sokka found himself grappling onto Jet’s bare arms, feeling the firm lines of lean muscle shifting under his touch. He used his newfound grip to drag himself further upright, close enough to reach the punk’s unprotected neck, attacking it with his tongue and teeth. Jet groaned at the stimulation, something about the noise sending a prickle of unexpected smugness trailing into Sokka’s mind, feeling one of the rebel’s hands tighten around his waist in response. 

“Oh Sokka, so feisty…” Jet crooned, his smooth words a contradiction to the insistent movements of his hands undressing the both of them, savagely tearing away Sokka’s tunic until it could easily be tossed aside. His own quickly met the same fate, landing in a messy, growing pile of their outfits on the floor. Now his hands were free to explore the warrior more thoroughly. 

That was enough to–at least temporarily–distract Sokka from his continued bruising of the other boy’s neck, his nostrils flaring next to his surprise to take in the sight of the rebel’s bare chest. 

“Like what you see?” Jet asked him with a smirk, sliding a few fingers through Sokka’s freed hair as he regained his calm–for the moment. His leering swagger had never been so attractive.

But even with his hesitance about laying with him all but disintegrated, Sokka was not just some heat-dumb Omega, even like this. He didn’t need Jet getting a bigger head than he already had just because Sokka was being affected. “I’ve seen better,” He sniped, rolling his eyes and pressing his palms hard against Jet’s collarbone to hold him still. (Just to catch his breath.)

Though if anything, that only amused the would-be freedom fighter, “Oh, really? Not enough to impress the mighty warrior, huh?” He dared to lean in over Sokka’s hands to steal a peck on the cheek with a sharp, mischievous grin, “But y'know...I was betting that no one’s ever touched you like this before, have they, Sokka? Can you prove me wrong?”

Sokka would have had some kind of smart remark to respond to that with (just because Jet was right about him didn’t mean he had to admit to it), but Jet had decided to get revenge for the mess of marks Sokka had been leaving on his neck. His long fingers trailed across Sokka’s chest and stomach, massaging his skin and pinching at his nipples. The warrior threw his head backwards and gasped in shock, the sharp prickle successfully catching him off-guard. 

That was exactly the sort of opportunity that Jet was apparently waiting for. 

In less than a second, Sokka’s grip was weakened as he was taken aback again by the warm pressure of Jet’s mouth on his, kissing him in a way he'd never experienced before. 

Earlier Sokka had been hesitant about engaging in this with Jet. Maybe it was that lingering childhood corniness (or maybe immaturity) on his part, but something about full-on kissing just felt more...intimate? Genuine? ...Forbidden? 

Even if he was going far beyond that. 

The elders back home in the South would be furious about all of this, but Sokka wasn’t too upset about that (not that they would ever find out). It was bad enough that he skipped out of the village with Katara after her new crush with only Gran-gran as a witness. Or maybe it was because it felt too much like a betrayal to Suki–even though she wasn’t actually his girlfriend–what with the way she’d kissed him and all, even in the heat of the moment. 

And...he did kinda like her too.

( ‘This isn’t about feelings though’ Sokka reminded himself. ‘I know that. Jet knows that too.’)

But this was an entirely different experience from the kiss he’d gotten from Suki. There was nothing brief or chaste about Jet’s ministrastrations, his tongue delving into Sokka’s mouth. Hot, wet, and sloppy. They bumped noses several times as the young warrior reeled, one hand hooked around Jet’s neck and fisting into his hair, while the other reflexively clawed at his bicep. Sokka had avoided this before, but now he could only draw satisfaction from it.

Jet surged into him with the hunger of a starving man, and Sokka met him with all the strength he could muster in return, swapping spit and groaning as the other boy’s tongue brushed up against his own. Sokka pulled away long enough to catch his breath and lick at his lips before drawing Jet back down. He couldn’t fully remember why he’d been so upset about this proposition anyway.

Still, this alone couldn’t drive Sokka over the edge. Couldn’t fix his problem. 

The heat would continue until either a few days passed, or an Alpha exhausted his stamina through their scent marker and actions. He needed something more intense than kissing.

Jet knew that full-well. 

It might have been why his very next course of action was to remove one hand from his exploration of Sokka’s chest to trail down to the waistband of his pants, dipping two fingers underneath. Sokka’s muscles tightened up in trickling anxiety the moment he recognized it, planting his feet firmly into the mattress. Jet paused for a moment when the warrior moved, before leaning back slightly, dragging his fingers slowly down Sokka’s hip and thigh as he peeled his pants off. The younger boy’s breath hitched faintly at the caress as the last bit of his modesty was summarily discarded, joining the rest of his clothes on the floor.

As the rebel stared at what all he had exposed, a reddish tint spread across his cheeks and the confident smile he’d sported for so long lost its bite. He was so much less of a worry all flustered like that. Sokka’s lips twitched up without intent, his previous distaste well forgotten. 

Dazedly, Sokka watched as Jet dropped his pretense of patience, falling to his eagerness and shucking off the rest of his own clothes at a hasty pace, joining Sokka in his nakedness. And the warrior couldn’t help it when his eyes flicked downward immediately, a red wave of redness taking over his face. It wasn’t his fault! It wasn’t like he’d ever seen another teen’s dick before (he was the only guy his age back South for crying out loud), especially not in bed like this!

(He distantly noted that Jet was visibly longer than him, but not quite as thick. Also he was already strained and hard as a rock. Sokka was unsure if that was an Alpha thing or a Jet thing. He wasn’t fully sure if he wanted to know.)

“Are you ready for this?” Jet challenged, but his smirk was ruined by the way his voice hitched with his panting. Sokka’s response was just a choked ‘yes.’ Suffice it to say, level responses were kind of difficult for both of them at the moment. Either way, Jet hummed in satisfaction and leaned in, capturing Sokka’s mouth again and groping his skin with one lazy hand. 

But the other hand ventured lower, tracing over Sokka’s hips down to his groin with touches so light that the younger boy had to shudder. Sokka was waiting for the precise moment that Jet would finally touch what he needed him to, and yet he was still somehow caught off guard.

Jet’s long, talented fingers found Sokka’s cock and wrapped around it, causing Sokka to groan in response and buck reflexively into his hand, the warrior’s hand tight around the back of the rebel’s neck to ground himself. Jet laughed faintly–almost fondly–his voice almost entirely blocked out by panting, massaging Sokka steadily, the pad of his thumb pressing into the tip just enough to distract. The slight ridges of the punk’s callouses only served to drive him even more crazy, and Sokka could tell enough to know that he’d definitely done this before. 

It would have made him feel anxious, normally, thinking about that. Or maybe just self-conscious. It wasn’t Sokka’s fault that he couldn’t measure up in experience.

But now all Sokka could think about was how Jet’s skill was oh so satisfying.

For a few moments, there was no need for any more escalation. The steady rub of Jet fingers was enough to cause Sokka’s toes to curl with pleasure, an unrestrained moan escaping from his throat, and the Alpha answered him with nips and kisses to his shoulders. 

But for this, only Sokka got the full satisfaction from it, something that Jet realized quickly. A strained smile peeked on his face, leaning lower to whisper in Sokka’s ear, “Hey, I’ve got another idea that will make this even better.” Jet paused the movements of his hand–much to Sokka’s displeasure–as he crawled a little closer and re-positioned himself. Then, just by canting his body downward, they lined up just perfectly for Jet’s erect dick rub up against Sokka’s own. 

Oh, now that was something else. 

The sheer combination of excellent friction, the closeness of the other boy, and the heady scent of Jet’s excitement filling the air was incredible. Sokka had nothing to compare it to.

But there was one thing he could do to make it even better. 

Before Sokka could even consider whether what he was doing was a good idea, his hand found its way down to the junction between them, fingers finding the space where Jet’s cock rubbed against his own. Sokka had never done this to another guy before (had never even thought about it), but he knew enough about self-pleasure from long, agonizing nights sealed alone in a hastily erected igloo to know how to make this feel good. His grip was clumsy but determined from the insistent need as he tried to jerk both of them off at the same time, the rough slide of his fingers an attempt at replacing the friction that Jet’s calloused hands had made. 

“S-Sokka!” The Alpha jerked in surprise, staring down at him with a faintly glazed look in his eyes, “Oh, I knew you were special. What kind of Omega could show off their skills like this?” Jet gripped his waist hard, maybe even leaving a bruise that Sokka would only care about in the morning. The rebel’s voice was tight and strained when he spoke, murmuring into Sokka’s collarbone, “You might want to–to slow down though, I’m–”

Sokka all but ignored him, lightheaded in a haze of sensation, he was more concerned with using Jet’s heady scent and pressure to drive him over the edge. 

Which was why it caught him by surprise when the Alpha broke out in a full-body shudder, growling ferociously and releasing into his hand. Sokka blinked, temporarily broken out of his desperate state by the warm wetness of Jet’s spend on his skin. Annoyed, he glared silently at the other boy for reaching his limit before Sokka could relieve the burning in his blood.

“Hey...don’t get mad, Sokka.” Jet tried to sound smooth again, but his panting breaths prevented that handily. “You know I can’t keep up with the stamina of a guy in heat. Besides…” He lowered his voice, whispering in Sokka’s ear, “I’ve been raring for you awhile. You had me teetering on the edge from the moment I stripped off that tunic of yours.”

Sokka's cheeks burned a bright red, resisting the urge to continue right where he left off, knowing that Jet was not in the state to get right back into it, “...Are you still...helping me or not?”

“Of course I am,” Jet hummed, “I just need a few minutes to recover and I’ll be ready to go for you again, but in the meantime…” Jet reached over to the little end table next to the bed, returning with a bottle of some kind of sweet-smelling oil that he slathered over his hands before tossing the little container aside. “I should prepare you for this first.” His fingers crept downward again, and for a moment Sokka thought he was about to jerk him off again. Except that he was aiming lower this time, brushing up against Sokka’s rear.

“Jet…” Sokka trailed off, realizing what he intended. A mixture of anxiety and heat-hungry eagerness churned inside of him, contradictory. 

“Relax, you’re gonna like this next part I promise,” He replied lightly, circling Sokka’s backside a few times before pressing one finger to the entrance. Jet leaned forward while he teased his finger there, kissing Sokka again and urging him to relax, which the younger boy tried to do as much as possible. When Jet first breached him, Sokka sucked in a sudden breath and closed his eyes, trying to adjust to the foreign feeling of someone else’s appendages inside of him by gripping tight to his shoulders. “Yeah, like that. You’re doing’ great.”

“Don’t...don’t patronize me,” Sokka mumbled, clenching his teeth shut immediately after as the rebel started to move, working him open slowly until he could fit another finger inside. After that, Jet could scissor him open more freely, preparing for something larger. The heat made it so much easier than otherwise, Sokka instinctively relaxing under Jet’s touch. “Ugh...this is…”

"Amazing?" Jet supplied, his grin strong and bright again, “Blowing your mind?”

Sokka groaned, throwing his head back against the sheets, not having either the requisite willpower or the energy to dignify that with a response. 

“Just wait, Sokka. The big finale is coming up soon,” The punk murmured into his neck, bent completely over Sokka’s body, pressing yet another finger inside him. As the warrior squirmed at the increasing fullness, Jet hummed, littering his chest with kisses. 

That was fine, that was...good. Sokka could handle this. Even if his body felt like it was on fire, Sokka thought he could handle this without going mad.

Except that was the moment when everything was tipped over the edge. 

Sokka howled as Jet reached something inside him that sent a bolt electrical sensation running through him, far more intense than anything before. He grabbed the other boy harder to ground himself, driven by a hunger that only seemed to have increased in intensity. Jet said something to him that he couldn’t hear or focus on. Sokka could only muffle his cries in Jet’s neck as his gathered awareness sharpened down into a pinprick of sensation. 

And then he knew no more.

Jet could hardly believe his own good fortune. 

It was one thing when he encountered a rare waterbender and the Avatar himself on one of his raiding missions, but that their departure was aborted when their third companion fell into a heat at just the right moment. And that, well...Jet was always blessed for his good timing.

Jet had always made a point of scouting the noncombatants he encountered, just so he knew how to deal with them. The Avatar's scent was...undefinable; he couldn’t tell whether it was just something he couldn’t recognize, or if it changed from second to second. His senses just couldn’t understand it. (Worrisome, or it would be, if he wasn’t such a trusting kid.) Katara wasn’t quite as tough, but he had to take her aside one-on-one to find out that she was an Alpha–and a strong one too. But it shouldn’t be a problem as long as he kept her appeased.

But Sokka on the other hand… He had the young warrior clocked as an Omega immediately, scent strong enough to be just recovering from, or about to be entering, his heat (which the warrior confirmed for him not long after when he collapsed). In hindsight, he felt a spike of relief that he had showed up with the raiding party when he did. With the odds stacked against them, the trio might not have been able to stop the Fire Nation from doing something monstrous.

But there was something different about that Omega Water Triber. Something special about the focus and ferocity in his eyes, and the wariness outlined in his behavior from the first moment they spoke. It was fascinating.

If that wasn’t enough to be interested about, he was also gorgeous. Well, to be honest, both of the Water Tribe siblings were, but there was something about Sokka’s sharp eyes and mind that made him a little rougher around the edges in exactly the sort of way that Jet liked. And the layer of false bravado he carried was endearing somehow as well. The fact that Jet didn’t usually tangle with Alphas, and that the warrior smelled more and more delicious with each passing moment really was just an easy bonus on the whole thing.

And Jet thanked his good fortune again when he managed to convince Sokka to actually climb into bed with him. 

Truthfully, he hadn’t actually expected it to work. Sokka was cautious and his low opinion of the Freedom Fighters had been obvious from the outset, but his logic angle tipped the proposition over into a success. Sokka was handling the heat pretty well so far (his mental fortitude must be pretty strong), so Jet was fairly sure that the symptoms weren’t what convinced him to take the leap and accept Jet’s offer. Of course, no matter how willful he was, that couldn’t last forever. If Sokka didn’t want to lose his mind for the next few days, he needed to say yes. 

An easy out and the mission Jet tempted him with were real; he had no reason to lie about wanting his help. Jet chose not to mention how much he personally wanted to fuck Sokka. 

Eagerness aside, the more he could make this look like no more than a helping hand, the better. 

And at this point, he couldn’t regret a single second of it. 

Jet was in the throes of pleasure, every movement of his fingers in the warrior writhing beneath him only got him closer and closer to readiness again. Sokka’s scent wafted around him like a cloud, invisible and yet overbearing; it was incredibly tempestuous in the way it was meant to be, bringing to mind the lingering smells of sea foam and vanilla. It was so undeniably Water Tribe, even if the scent was alien and new to Jet, it could really be nothing else. It was probably lucky for him that Jet had more self-control than most Alpha guys his age. 

Even now the Alpha hunger in him was telling him to tear the choker from Sokka’s neck and leave a mark on him that would last forever, an instinct that Jet could push aside. Even if that would be nice in the moment, Jet did make a promise to the other boy, and the fall out from that decision would hit home afterwards when he realized how stupid it was. Sokka didn’t like him after all. His warning beforehand was enough to make it clear he wouldn’t be happy. 

Besides, he didn’t need it really. Even the way the choker dug roughly into his cheek as he nipped lightly at Sokka’s shoulder was pleasurably erotic in its own way. Satisfying. 

Sokka on the other hand, had reached the very limit of his clear-headedness, as could be seen when he couldn’t really react anymore to Jet’s ribbing, using less and less words with his reactions. With that, and Jet’s own rising need, it became more than clear that he needed to hurry up and advance to the finale. Sokka should be ready for him by now, instinctively blooming under his touch in the way that only an Omega could, clinging to his arms to retain what little stability he had left in him. 

If he had more time, Jet might have stopped for a bit to admire the sight. He liked it a lot when Sokka was alert enough to bite back at him–his sharp, sarcastic wit actually was fun to interact with–but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t still so attractive like this. He couldn’t even keep that knowledge to himself, murmuring into Sokka’s chest, “You’re so gorgeous, Sokka.”

The warrior probably didn’t hear him, but still found a way to respond to him, his voice growing more insistent, rasping out a demand for him to hurry up, punching him lightly in the side with a loosely curled fist. Jet couldn’t help but laugh; even like this, he still had that spunk. 

“Alright Sokka, I’ll give you what you want,” Jet crooned, kissing the boy one more time before he pulled his fingers away. The dissatisfied groan that followed him had him harder than ever.

He retrieved more oil and slathered himself with it, positioning himself smoothly over Sokka’s form. Jet couldn’t delay this any longer, or he’d be losing it as well. He pulled Sokka just a little bit closer and pushed one of his knees a bit further away, pressing himself into the space between. They fit together so well, it was hard to believe that this was all just a stroke of good luck. He took a breath in preparation, as though he were about to take a dive into the ocean (though in some small way, he kind of was), and then made the first plunge. 

The noise that Sokka made when Jet first sank into him was incredible, both startled and hungry in a way that produced a shudder through the rebel’s body. 

Jet had to take a moment to compose himself, hands slipping downward steadily to rest on Sokka’s hips. The boy in question dragged him down in response, his lips brushing against Jet’s neck, and his breaths caused goosebumps to rise on his skin. There was a moment where he panted, probably adjusting, until he stilled and shifted to speak into Jet’s ear. Just one word. “Go,” Sokka growled, his nails leaving slight imprints in Jet’s skin.

Jet didn’t need to be told twice. He wasted no time drawing out his body and pushing back in, drawing out another howl from the warrior’s mouth. Immediately, Jet advanced to a rhythm, rocking the mattress beneath them. “I guess...you’re lucky...that this room is pretty...sound-proof…” Jet worked out through a moan, filled with ecstasy as Sokka’s body massaged him in just the right way.

Jet couldn’t help but continue to increase his tempo, driving in harder and faster by the moment, a constant buzz blurring his thoughts into little more than pleasured mush. The amount of energy he had to use to bring his partner to completion really was impressive. What an unusual–and amazing–Omega Sokka turned out to be. 

Good for him that the kid Avatar had misplaced his meds. 

The wild rebel groaned over and over, yet his voice was almost buried under Sokka’s, who had firmly established himself as a loud lover. That was also pretty attractive in its own right. 

He wondered, faintly, if they might be able to do this again in the future. Sure, Sokka was a close companion of the Avatar, and that kind of necessitated that they always be on the move… But maybe, if they crossed paths again, Sokka might be more open to laying with him again. He couldn’t claim that Jet was nothing but a scoundrel after this, could he? Especially after Jet had ended up “helping” him so thoroughly with his ill-timed problem. The Omega was obviously enjoying himself at this point anyway. 

Even if he would probably end up denying that fact later, face blushing red in that way that made him look so cute… 

Jet sighed; he was so close to the edge...he only needed a little bit more… If his own thrusts didn’t do the job, then Sokka’s would, bucking roughly into his grip, jostling Jet’s hands. 

It was Sokka that ended it all. The beginnings of a shrill noise escaped from his throat when the Omega finally reached his climax, seed splattering wetly between them, where Jet’s previous spend still lingered. At the very time, triggered by his peak, Sokka lunged forward and muffled his cries by biting Jet hard in the neck and stayed there, the sharp exhale of warm breath from him cascading down the older boy’s back. The force of his attack was so hard that Jet could feel a slight, trickling wetness on him, evidence that Sokka had managed to break the skin. 

Sokka’s ferocity, the sounds, the pain mixing with the pleasure… It was enough to tip him over the edge. Jet barely managed to pull out in time, and he came forcefully into the bedsheets. Slowly drifting down off his blissed out high, Jet dragged Sokka’s teeth away from his neck to seize his mouth in another kiss. 

It was a sloppier, weaker kiss, with their energy so sapped from an exhausting session. They parted with a wet noise, Sokka dragging a cushion a few inches to his cheek and slipping into unconsciousness. His scent had calmed and faded to a mere wisp of what it had been only a few moments before, heat successfully ended, just the way it was meant to.

Jet took in the mess across the sheets and their bodies and figured that he really should start to clean up soon but, ah, he could do that in the morning. Right now he could rest, chasing the gradually fading spark of satisfaction left behind. 

Jet yawned and slumped into the bed, one hand tangled in Sokka’s disheveled hair, and let himself drift away. 

Much later, Jet awoke with a pounding headache, a hand finding his head the moment regained consciousness. Grunting in discomfort, he dragged himself off his cot and up to his feet, still feeling off-balance. His fingers drifted lower, finding the edge of the bandage on his neck, beneath which was the bite Sokka left on his neck.

It had been a few days since Sokka had left it on him, and it was still throbbing just a little. Jet had underestimated how much damage the other boy could do with his teeth.

He’d apparently underestimated him in other ways too. 

Namely, that he was a backstabbing traitor.

That’s what Jet told himself ever since their confrontation on the cliffside on the previous day, steadily stewing over the way that the three of them had turned on him. Jet had spent so much time and effort preparing his missions, and it had been ruined so easily and so quickly. Now the Fire Nation knew that the crew was there, and he would have to evacuate the crew soon too.

All because the Avatar and his friends couldn’t stomach a sacrifice for the sake of victory.

Except, for some reason, there was something still so wrong. 

No matter how hard he tried, Jet couldn’t level the full force of his anger on that memory. Even though they really only barely knew each other. And on top of that, he kept thinking back to the night he had with Sokka, even in his dreams.

“So stupid,” Jet muttered in annoyance, stomping out of his shack, a morning breeze ruffling his hair. The hideout was much emptier now, after the argument among the crew the previous day. Apparently, it didn’t matter why the Avatar turned on him, just that he did. Some of the kids left after that, so the atmosphere there was tenser, quieter too. He should have been more worried about that of all things–and the hit to his team ability, but he couldn’t help linger on other things, the memory of Sokka’s touch lingering on his skin like a ghost he couldn’t shake off. 

“It was just sex,” Jet said under his breath, frustrated by his own distraction. That’s all it was. Okay, so it was really good sex, (especially since it was obvious that Sokka had to have been a virgin) but still that shouldn’t change anything. Sokka definitely didn’t seem that affected by it. He still sold him out. Hadn’t even hesitated about it either.

But he still felt...hurt (?) somehow. Even if there never should have been feelings involved.

Hadn’t they fit so well together?

His bite mark was still stinging, and Jet rubbed at the bandage, a tiny thread of anxiety tracing through his mind. He hated being held back by feelings like this when there was a war to fight, but for some reason it was bothering him more than it should. It was a maddening weight dragging him down from what he needed to next. From his mission.

Sokka's face lingered in his thoughts nonetheless, what he interpreted as pity was held in the last glance the warrior had for him before they'd flown away.

Little did he know that as he strode through the treetop base, he was being watched by two of his trusted crew, the wild fighter Smellerbee and the ever-quiet Longshot. Both of them were staring at their irritable leader as he walked, expressions of concern painted across their faces. 

What Jet wasn’t aware of–that was exceptionally obvious to them–was how the rebel’s scent marker had changed. To something familiar in an unsettling way.

The faint scent of vanilla and sea spray twined with Jet’s own, showing so sign of fading. 

Chapter Text

The beachside was always relaxing at night, the push and pull of waves cresting on the shore and fine background noise to compliment the starry sky. It brought to mind thoughts of home even with the very different climate and sandy shores. 

But the beach wasn’t just a good place to relax, it was an important source of resources, both in terms of food from fishing, and ingredients that Sokka needed for his suppressants. 

He’d wasted no time gathering ingredients on every one of their intermittent stops to prevent having to go through another unexpected heat. (It didn’t matter whether or not he enjoyed it! Or was satisfied with the...other party’s part in things, or anything like that!) He needed to keep things together, for Aang and his sister. What Sokka was absolutely certain of was that he couldn’t even look Katara straight in the eye for almost a day after his experience with Jet, and he couldn’t have that. He was still a warrior, heat or not.   

While Aang and Katara bedded down for the night, Sokka was busy boiling the needed ingredients together, crushing down the special seaweed/oyster mash and drying the molded spheres out that would become the pills he’d use as a medication. Some part of the compound mixture dulled the symptoms of a heat down to very little and made him smell like a Beta. 

Sokka had wanted to know more about the process of the thing. Simplifying suppressants to something easier to make would make his life a whole lot easier as well. And probably plenty of other people too.

It was there, putting the finishing touches on his mandatory task that Sokka heard the sound of someone approaching the campsite that the three of them had set up near the beached Water Tribe vessel. Concerned about the Fire Nation maybe coming back to the scene of the battle there, Sokka cautiously rose to his feet, unsheathing a weapon in hand. That was when he met the Water Tribe warrior Bato, the first link to the siblings’ missing father that they’d seen in years, and quickly woke up Aang and his sister with his shout . 

Sokka was nervous. 

As a kid, he’d been fond of Bato as one of the few Alphas in his home who didn’t treat him the way they were taught to for any “fragile” Omega. But he had realized over time, with age and hindsight, that there was more than one reason the man was different from the others. He was what the elders called a “Dulled” Alpha, or a widower, whose traits had dropped to something much different with the loss of his other half. When Sokka’s mom was lost, his Dad was hurt, but he controlled the Tribe and sought revenge for the family’s loss; Bato on the other hand, was simply pulled along by the stronger willpower of anyone in his orbit. 

He didn’t have the energy or the will to bar Sokka from things like the others did, but that didn’t mean he was free from their beliefs either. His Dad had subtly broken rules for Sokka to make him happy plenty of times; as his friend, was Bato just going along with what Hakoda wanted?

Still, everything seemed to be going fine at first. Bato took them to the local Earth Kingdom abbey, where he was recovering from injuries he’d suffered from the Fire Nation. All the other warriors had left with their Chief, so Bato had stayed there basically alone. But, he’d managed to set up a little bit of home there, the space furnished with warm pelts and from a bubbling pot on a cooking spit, Sokka could smell the familiar sharp scent of stewed sea prunes. The moment they sat down with him around the pot, it felt like being back home for just a moment.

As the day wound down to its end, Sokka had forgotten his previous anxiety, laughing and chatting with Bato and his sister about old times. He was already feeling much better about the next day. Then Bato took him aside as Katara left to sleep, wanting to talk alone.

“I didn’t expect to see you all the way out here, Sokka,” The man told him, cleaning one of his boots with a tiny knife as they sat by the simmering remains of their dinner. 

“Well, yeah…” Sokka scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck, “I mean, nobody really expected us to run into the Avatar. But Katara wanted to go north to learn waterbending with him, and I wasn’t about to let her go off on her own. Staying home wasn’t an option.”

Bato paused, setting his tool aside, looking at Sokka with an expression of concern, “No, I’m pretty certain that it was an option, but you didn’t want to take it. I understand you were worried about Katara, but that doesn’t stop everyone else from being worried about you. Did you at least tell the elders what you were planning on doing?” Sokka’s face tightened into a frown, and his terse silence was enough of an answer all on its own. “I thought as much. Sokka, I don’t think you understand how dangerous this could be for you…”

Disappointment filled the boy’s being. And his earlier satisfaction started to sour. 

Bato was trying to let him down easy in his own way, and hadn’t threatened to drag him back home, but he was still clearly criticizing him. But also, it wasn’t as though the man could stop him either, not in the injured state he was in. 

“I’m not going home until my sister does. You can’t convince me to turn back and go home before that happens,” Sokka said firmly. “The elders would have forbidden me from going anywhere, so I left without telling them, nothing more to it than that.” The only one back home who knew he split was his grandmother. She was always softer on him, a font of independence who taught him how to make his own suppressants if he had the ingredients on hand, and never told him to settle for whatever warrior the council would suggest for him.  

Bato sighed to himself, seeming even more tired as he spoke, “I know I can’t stop you, Sokka. I only ask that you be very careful on this journey, even when you reach the North. They’re not known for letting Omegas bend the rules like Hakoda was willing to do for you back home.” Sokka found himself relaxing incrementally with those words. Even now, Bato might have had a remnant of those classically overprotective Alpha instincts that Sokka railed against, but he wasn’t trying to enforce them. It was somewhere in that grey area between supporting and condemning that kept him from being an obstacle. 

And as for the warning about the North, Sokka knew some things about that at least. 

Apparently, Kanna had told him that she escaped from the Northern Water Tribe long ago, which was even stricter and more traditional than the South. She had been a bit cagey about the personal details, but told him about how they valued arranged marriages and rarely took the opinions of their Omegas into account when making decisions. That didn’t really give Sokka a good feeling about their future itinerary, but he was set on refusing to leave Katara and Aang to their own devices anyway. “I know,” He said, “I’m prepared for that.”

They shared a moment of silence, the older man crossing his hands loosely in his lap and looking him over, “You’ve changed a lot since the last time I saw you, Sokka.”

Sokka stiffened up, leaning against the tent wall and looking away, “I didn't change that much.”

“I see that you cut your hair," The man noted. "Any particular reason?"

"Just wanted a change," Sokka muttered, fiddling with his wolftail self-consciously. His Dad told him it was okay if he wanted to wear his hair back like a traditional warrior if he really wanted to, but it wasn't until the Chief and all the others left that Sokka took one of the knives to it, cut it shorter and hacked off the sides. The cut was rough, uneven at first, but he got used to trimming it down proper over the next two years. It made him look like a real warrior-in-training, someone that his Dad could be proud of, who could look after the tribe...no matter what anyone else said about it. This was just another small step towards his goal of being recognized.

But he wasn't ready to talk about it. 

Bato hummed noncommittally at his brief explanation, not giving Sokka any indication of what he thought about it. But he let the subject drop, moving on, “So, I assume you’ve been keeping up with taking your suppressants like Kanna taught you?” Sokka opened his mouth, about to reply, but he hesitated. Just saying ‘yes’ and agreeing along would be a lie, and he tripped over the word in his throat, drawing the man’s attention immediately, “Have you, Sokka?”

Sokka took a deep breath. Maybe he should tell him a part of it? “Well, a while back I, uh, ran out of them,” He said, not going to the fact that Sokka had packed enough suppressants to keep him safe for almost a year, and had plenty left over until the incident with Momo. “We got stuck in a forest hideout a while back, and I...had to go through the heat.”

Bato put a hand on his shoulder, his face serious, “Did anything happen? Was there an Alpha nearby or–?”

“I’m fine,” Sokka said, his entire body language tightened like a drawn bow. He wasn’t about to tell Bato–or any of the other warriors for that matter–that he’d let a punk in the woods bed him to stop the heat. Bato might have been better about it than the others, but he still had clear memories of some of the other Alpha warriors like Tarruk or Panan acting like Sokka would shatter to pieces if he took a painful trip. The Betas (like his Dad) at least had good heads on their shoulders and weren’t so overprotective. “Nothing happened to me.”

The man wasn’t so easily dissuaded by his lack of explanation, “Sokka, are you sure? I know that when an Omega is in heat, you may not be able to remember…” 

Sokka huffed and impatiently reached up to unlatch his ever-present choker and dropped it into his lap. His bare neck revealed what his unchanged scent marker should have already spelled out: he had no visible Mark there at all. “So you know...no one marked me. I’m fine,” The teen looked away glumly, tracing the edges of the whalebone jewelry with his thumb. Sokka had checked, as thoroughly as he could, the day after leaving the cliff over Gaipan. He had to know if Jet had lied to him about not overstepping what they’d agreed to; Sokka remembered most of what happened that night (much to his incredible embarrassment), but some of the details after he lost his head were a bit fuzzy. 

But for everything else that the so-called Freedom Fighter turned out to be, at the very least, he didn’t break his word to Sokka. Well, he hadn’t stuck around to find out if Jet blabbed about fooling around with him to his crew, but given how badly they left off, it didn’t seem likely. 

“I’m sorry, Sokka,” Bato said calmly, causing him to look up, “I didn’t mean to upset you or imply that you weren’t taking care of yourself. That’s not what I meant.” The man said, his voice low. Bato sighed, “I know you don’t like it when old Alphas like me get protective and worried about you. But sometimes it's harder than I expect to leave behind those instincts, y’know?”

It was hard to leave your instincts behind sometimes. Sokka was very well informed of that now. 

“And to add to that,” Bato continued with a nod, “I know that if something did happen, you would say so.” Sokka quickly ducked his head to hide the uncomfortable cringe on his face; he was pretty sure that Bato wouldn’t be so relaxed if he knew. But he didn't need to. 

It was after that when the man decided it was time that he went off to bed, promising a surprise in the morning, that Sokka was anxious to discover.

He wasn’t sure if he was lucky or unlucky that the ensuing drama the next day completely distracted him from thinking about the inappropriate secret he was carrying, putting the whole thing firmly out of mind. Somehow he came to the conclusion that dealing with Zuko assaulting the abbey with a bounty hunter was less stressful. Sokka would much rather be untangling misunderstandings in the gang and fighting off an ill-tempered Fire Prince than talking about his first and most regretful sexual encounter. 

Except, it actually wasn’t.

The truth was that Sokka couldn’t regret going through with it even if he wanted to. Because if he hadn’t taken Jet’s offer, he’d have been laid up in bed and uselessly out of his mind for several days while Gaipan was destroyed, unable to do anything. So, thinking about it like that, in some roundabout way, he’d had sex with Jet for the greater good. Even if justifying it to himself that way felt bizarre. 

(The other reason was one that he didn’t even want to admit to himself: that it felt good, and he didn’t want to regret feeling so nice. Sokka still didn’t want admit to himself that a guy had attended to his needs so well; wishing that that kind of pleasure came from someone more acceptable. If it had been a noble and forthright girl like Suki, he’d be a lot less bothered. But that didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t so easily forget how pleasurable it all was. He knew it would be hard to forget the first time.)

In the end, Sokka had a mission to focus on. He had the Fire Nation army, a hot-tempered banished Prince, and their destination of the Northern Tribe to be busy worrying about. As long as he just stopped thinking about Jet’s faded influence on him, then it would disappear and he could forget about it as another footnote in his journey. 

Hopefully.

They had left the red forest behind them. 

Jet had taken glances at every so often as they departed as the trees shrank more and more into the distance, the knapsack lugged over his shoulder a constant weight to remind him of the burden. His crew (the ones that remained at his side) were much the same, even if their countenance had changed dramatically in the past few days. 

It was their first major failure. The first time that the Freedom Fighters had been forced out of their hideout and on the move, and everyone was feeling the strain. Tensions were running high and Jet had already been forced to break up multiple fights between some of the less composed members, putting himself between two Beta kids as they flung accusations back and forth regarding missing food. Luckily the two went quiet and contrite after Jet interjected. 

There was always something though. He had to mediate more than he wanted or needed, and Jet could admit to himself that he wasn’t the best guy to deal with these interpersonal spats. 

And if it weren’t their increased aggressions and concerns about each other that weighed things down, it was the change in attitude directed at Jet himself. 

He caught a lot of them throwing him anxious, confused glances, even from his closest compatriots, and was still riding on the fence of trying to demand some kind of answer for it. Some of the examples that jumped out at him was Sneer’s increased passive aggression–constantly questioning his orders–and catching The Duke shooting worried stares at the back of his head when Jet had his back turned. Sure, Jet knew how to keep his crew in line, but they never had a problem speaking up, but now it was like people were walking on eggshells around him, trying to avoid...what, upsetting him? Sooner or later, he was going to lose his patience, even while the rebel was trying so hard to keep the group together. 

They really needed some way to blow off some steam before things boiled over. 

It was never that hard to do something fun to clear the air back at the hideout, whether it was engaging in firecrackers and exploring the treetops, or organizing mock battles at camp with activities like capture-the-flag. (Jet never lost that one.) 

With a group composed of mostly kids, there was always someone who was up for it, who had the creativity to think up some good way of passing the time. There was a reason why a fun-loving kid like Aang had gotten along so well with a lot of the younger Freedom Fighters. But at the same time, there were people who weren’t satisfied with the more childish games composed to keep the morale up. 

But it would be pretty difficult to do any of that without a base of operations. 

But then there were the...other ways to relax.

Among the older members of the Freedom Fighters, every now and then, someone would be invited to a “romp in the dark” for a night. Between friends of course, and it didn’t happen all the time. It never meant anything more than an excuse to have fun so far (well, at least Jet hadn’t heard of any actual relationships coming out of these rendezvous, but he’d been wrong about things before, as the reason for their new journey could attest to.) Actual scent marker compatibility rarely entered into the equation either, but there weren’t any Omegas in the gang that were old enough to join in, so it didn’t really matter to begin with. 

Jet never had a problem with some under the belt fun with his crew if they were up to it, and up to this point, no one had ever had an issue with it. No one went away upset and no one got marked. Jet never had a visible preference with his crew, so he’d yet to turn anyone down.

Which was why he was so frustrated that what happened with Sokka hadn’t faded from his mind yet. The fact that Sokka had turned on him and ruined everything so completely should have been enough to sour the entire experience for him. Even if it was one of the only times he’d been with an Omega, that was no excuse. And yet… 

Maybe once they’d set up camp again, he could try to do something to wipe that out of his brain. 

Eventually, after long hours of complaining and sores, the lot of them arrived at another forest, and took the time to rest. The trees there were much shorter–unsuited for a similar hideout–and leaves and surrounding foliage bursting with green. The bed of grass was soft and springy to the touch, and some kids tested the idea of just sleeping on the ground, with varying results.

Under a shaded canopy of low leaves there was a tightly enclosed air, and Jet wasted no time in assisting with stringing some of their packed tarps from branch to branch to create some makeshift tents. There weren’t enough proper tents to go around to everybody, though there were a few who had volunteered to pitch up in a treetop somewhere nearby (Jet was one of them). Longshot soon disappeared into the surrounding woods to hunt and Pipsqueak had quickly cleared out a bare circle from the fallen leaves where they could make a campfire to cook whatever he found. 

The Duke hadn’t joined in on the preparations. Ever since they’d left the hideout, he’d been sullen and finicky, barely even saying a word to Jet. There was something going on there that he should probably know about. Maybe after the meal and the day was winding down, Jet would try to talk out whatever was eating him. 

Later. For now what Jet needed most was to get some food in him before he snapped. The same could probably be said for the rest of the crew. 

“Longshot’s back,” Smellerbee announced not too long after without looking, casually picking dried dirt and grime out of her boots with the tip of her knife. True to her word, the archer stepped out of the darkness, weighed down with fresh meat. Several jackalopes hung from his belt loops and he was dragging the downed body of a bull-deer of some kind. Jet wasn’t familiar with the species. “Need some help with that?” She directed towards him, and Longshot inclined his head in response, the slight frown on his face the only evidence of strain. 

Pipsqueak took the load off his hands, and Smellerbee took out a fresh knife to help him skin and carve the meat. Minutes later, they were roasting it over an open flame, embers crackling faintly as the sun started to set. Time drew on lazily, and the minutes felt like hours.

Dusk was always the best time of the day. Or at least it was. This was usually when the team would sit down together with a feast, maybe a speech, talk about the latest victory. But not this time. The meal was mostly silent, eyes down at the food instead of at each other, circled around the burning flame, and every Freedom Fighter seemed acutely aware of how their numbers had been cut. Jet was tense, neck prickling, a headache building up in the back of his head. 

This couldn’t go on. They were his team. 

He had to do something about this. Jet tossed a picked-clean bone to the side and stood up, “Alright guys, I think it’s about time we came up with a new plan. We can’t stay out here forever.”

There was the sound of a snort from somewhere in the group. Jet ignored it; there was bound to be doubt after what happened. But he could fix this. “Our first order of business is to find a new hideout to set up. We’re gonna need a new home, and this forest isn’t going to cut it. After that, we can start setting up our next decisive strike against the Fire Nation.” Jet dug his heel into the dirt for a moment, scuffing his boot, before beginning a slow circuit around the fire, addressing all of them at once. “I know everyone’s feeling the heat right now. But the Fire Nation has feared us for ages, and we can’t let them get complacent. We always come out on top in the end.”

There was only a dull smattering of excitement that died off fast enough. No cheers like Jet had wanted. But he did hear a distinct mutter among the crowd, “Right. I’ll believe that when I see it.” This time though, Jet could pick out the culprit.

Sneers. His hand-to-hand specialist. Maybe Jet shouldn’t have been shocked. The other boy was more aggressive than usual the past few days, questioning and nit-picking over and over. 

The other boy was a fighter from the start, stout and tough from the moment Jet had met him. He’d mentioned coming from a farm, working for his meals until the fields burned under the invasion and he found purpose in fighting the Fire Nation instead. Sneers had his talents; faster and more agile than Pipsqueak, and physically stronger than Jet himself, eschewing weaponry altogether in favor of using nothing but his bare hands. It was something to appreciate.

Of course, he was also an Alpha, a particularly intense one too, judging by his marker. If Jet hadn’t successfully charmed him into line when he first joined up, there was a good chance that Sneers would’ve tried challenging him for leadership. (But Sneers didn’t have the charisma or the tactical knowledge for it; Jet wouldn’t allow him to lead.) Now he was getting bold again, which would have consequences down the line if Jet didn't stamp it out then. 

"You wanna speak up, Sneers? Voice your complaints where we can all hear them?" Jet asked him, his voice clipped. Hopefully the edge in his voice could remind the other boy who was actually in charge of this operation.

"I don't think this is a good idea, guys," Smellerbee interjected, her hand tightening around the sharp implement she was using to dice up her food. "Not now."

Jet waved her off, his eyes fixed on Sneers. This needed to be dealt with now.

The interruption didn't discourage Sneers this time in the slightest. "Yeah actually, I do have a complaint." He clambered to his feet, crossing his arms and facing his leader down. The kids still seated glanced back between the two of them anxiously, like they were expecting a fight. Sneers almost sounded like he wanted one (and even if Jet was sure he could take him, he'd much rather diffuse this situation than get tangled up in his Alpha aggression). For a moment Jet expected him to be mad that his hard work of setting the dam bomb went to waste, but turned out to be wrong. "Maybe I'm 'upset' because on what you called the 'biggest mission ever,' you decided to go toe to toe with the Avatar! That's not a fight any of us can win."

"It was bad timing. I didn't have a choice but to fight him," Jet bit out, choosing not to clarify that his only intent was to slow Aang down until he was out of time. Which wouldn't even have been necessary if Aang and Katara hadn't showed up to witness the preparations when Jet told them not to. Sneers wouldn't care about that excuse anyway. 

But the irritated martial artist immediately proceeded to blast apart Jet's justifications by stepping over the line. "Yeah, or maybe you were distracted and making mistakes because you were too busy ogling a couple of pretty Water Tribers," He snapped, glowering. 

Silence fell, awkward and tense. 

No one ever called attention to Jet’s escapades, not because there was something particularly wrong with them, but because it simply wasn’t anyone else’s business but those who were involved. Even if that weren’t the case, he still wouldn’t have told anyone what he did with Sokka; Jet still kept his promises after all. But those words were more than that, an accusation. Sneers was actually implying that Jet’s marked interest in the Water Tribers (or maybe just the one in particular) was the reason why the plan failed, blaming him for it.

Even worse was that bringing that group back to the forefront of his mind also brought back that tingling discomfort that had followed Jet ever since Sokka’s parting judgement from the back of a flying bison. No one had mentioned Sokka by name ever since then, even when Jet had ranted and raved about his betrayal after the day he left, but someone else referencing him left the rebel frustrated and pent-up. It was the worst situation for him to be in when someone was trying to pick a fight; Jet would normally brush this off but…

"You never cared about that before," Jet said, his voice tight. The only reason why Sneers brought it up was because he failed. He'd never even thought twice about it before, and Jet doubted this time was any different. This was a rebellion. 

The other boy rolled his eyes, "But you do, and that's the point." 

"Sneers don't." Smellerbee edged forward, starting to stand, not even pretending not to be worried anymore, and Longshot was shaking his head slowly beside her. Her voice was biting, warning, "You don't need to kick the wasp nest okay? We get it, you're mad about what happened. We all are. Let's move on now before you do something you're really gonna regret."

Unfortunately for everyone, he ignored her. Sneers pointed at Jet, eyebrows drawn, "You're over here pretending you're not bothered, but everyone remembers you ranting and raving about whose fault this really is. You got reckless and fought the Avatar because of him." And Jet knew what he was about to say next, and part of him wished he'd never asked for the martial artist's opinion, because… "So tell us all what you really feel, about that bastard Sokka."

Crack.

It was like...a switch flipped somewhere in Jet’s brain. Like something he was trying to keep buried suddenly came rushing back up without warning. He wasn’t even really aware of when he moved. In one moment, he was simply staring the other boy down. In the next Sneers had staggered away from him with a hand raised to his mouth, using it to stem the line of blood leaking from his split lip, busted open from Jet’s knuckles cracking against his face. His clenched fist was still tingling slightly from the blow.

Jet blinked, staring at his hand for a moment before it clicked. “Sneers…” He breathed out unsteadily, loosening his fingers and shaking out the numbed feeling he was left with. In spite of his frustration, Jet knew that he had crossed the line and he had to backtrack before it was too late. But he’d never struck one of them before. “Sorry, I don’t know what got into me just then.”

The other boy just glared at him, wiping his lip roughly with the back of his hand. There was a self-satisfied glimmer in his gaze, as though Jet had just proven some unspoken suspicion of his. “Well I know exactly what got into you. Or rather, who.”

That same flare of anger erupted in him again, but Jet was saved from committing a repeat performance of that attack when Pipsqueak dragged him back with a heavy hand on his shoulder. Even with the roaring in his head, Jet could still make out the words Sneers tossed at him as he turned on his heel to leave, “I knew you were going to go soft.” Baffling, confusing words that made no sense to the wild rebel at all, yet were directed at him nonetheless.

Jet never balked at making the hard decisions. He had no idea what that accusation meant.  

As the martial artist turned his back on his leader, Jet sank his hands into his hair, willing himself to calm down in a way he’d never had to before. He was always one of those ‘mellow’ Alphas, ever since childhood; he didn’t have the fragile self-control to get himself into tiffs like that, especially not over… The name that Sneers had spoken pickled constantly in his mind, a reflection of blue eyes edging in on his thoughts. No. He sucked in a sharp breath. 

Deaf to the voices around him pressing for an explanation, for an answer, Jet shrugged off Pipsqueak’s grip and wandered into the treeline. He needed...a moment. Or just to be alone. 

Jet found the nearest comfortable tree and climbed it, seated in a tangle of branches like a makeshift cot. Not tall enough to serve as a true privacy refuge, but he still found himself more at ease above the ground. Not that it was doing enough to calm him down. Also his neck was throbbing again. Jet couldn't help but think about his outburst earlier and felt a faint suspicion building in the back of his mind. But he yanked his hand away before his fingers could reach for the bandage, a tight denial overcoming his curiosity, 'That's not possible.' Jet lowered his head and closed his eyes, trying not to think about it, letting the minutes pass as his heart calmed.

“Thought I’d find you out here.” Smellerbee stared up at him from the ground, arms crossed. There was a conflicted expression on her face, like she wasn’t sure whether to be concerned for him or just annoyed at him for causing problems. But the fact that she was there must have meant that things had calmed down back at the campsite, for better or worse. 

He decided to cut right to the chase, “Give it to me straight, how bad is it out there?”

“Sneers left. And almost half of the team left with him.” Blunt. She didn’t pull any punches. Half again after their run-in with the Avatar… It seemed like Jet’s good luck was draining away into the metaphorical gutter. Still, when she sighed the tension visibly leaked out of her, "For what it's worth, I don’t really think it was your fault. Sneers knew what kind of fire he was stepping into when he brought that up. It's not as though you hitting him was a surprise or anything. No one who's left is mad at you either as far as I know."

Jet rubbed at his temple, feeling the beginning of a headache forming there. "I still shouldn't have snapped like that. I'm not...thinking so clearly lately," He said, admitting a small weakness. 

"I know you aren't; we can tell. Everyone's pretty stressed, you most of all." What a cryptic thing to say. Jet would have figured that the kids like The Duke were being affected the most but… Well, Jet was very on-edge, even if he was trying to keep that to himself for the most part. “Are you really planning on spending the night out here? Pipsqueak said he would give up his tent…”

Jet shook his head and hopped down from the branch, “That’s not necessary, he can keep it. I’d much rather have a chance to wind down. Speaking of which…” He drawled, building his confidence back up. He wanted to put Sneers and his outburst out of his mind, and maybe someone would be up for the chance to help him out there. “...You think I could share with you and Longshot tonight? You did say that everyone’s been feeling stressed lately.” Even if he didn’t go into details, it would be obvious from his tone alone what he really meant. 

Smellerbee didn't jump on the offer right away and she gave him an odd look instead, “Are you serious, Jet? Sure it’s such a good idea to do that now?”

"I don't see why not. There's no point in me moping around just because he left." Jet sighed. He didn't mention Sneers' name, but she was sure to know what he meant anyway. Still, she didn't look super eager… "Unless of course...you'd rather not his time?"

"I just figured you wouldn't…" She shook her head instead of finishing, "I don't mind if you're sure. C'mon." Smellerbee led him back to camp, still close enough for Jet to see the glow of the campfire from his tree. Back in the thick of it, it was obvious now the effect the argument had on the crew. A few missing tents, empty spots by the fire, a few personal effects left behind… So many people had left that–even when Jet told himself that he didn't need them, that he could go on without those who couldn't commit–he was shaken. Most of the kids seemed to respect him as a leader, but he didn’t think that he was close enough to be thought of as a true friend, let alone family. But they really were the closest he had to one.

At the very least, out of the tight circle of allies he had been closest to, and respected the most, only Sneers had left him behind. 

Jet was forced to walk all the way to the other side of the camp where Smellerbee and Longshot had set themselves up, holding himself up tall despite the awkwardness of it all. He wasn't sure how he'd handle the crew in the morning, but it was probably going to be an ordeal. The tent was only a temporary shield from the questions and expectation that would ensue. 

Longshot was waiting for them inside, stripped down casually to his undershirt, his iconic paddy-hat set aside. He was carving a sliver of wood off of a thin stick with what looked like one Smellerbee's knives, likely crafting a new arrow in his downtime to add to his quiver. He glanced up when they entered, setting his task aside, meeting Jet's gaze with a moment's hesitation. It was the same look Jet had gotten from the others and disliked, a worried expression, not unlike how someone would react to seeing a sick or grieving person. 

Thankfully, it faded quick enough before Jet finally said something when his tentmate spoke up. 

"Jet said he wants to shack up with us tonight. You alright with that?" Her voice was sharp, but that was just her casual tone, and Longshot was always very comfortable with her anyway. That was why they always bunked together. (Jet had started to wonder if there was something else going on there, but he was never quite sure, especially not when his relationship with his crew was so fluid.) Smellerbee was one of the fiercest Betas he knew, and Longhot was more mellow, naturally falling in step to her tune. There was a balance there that couldn’t be denied. 

Regardless, Longshot still nodded slowly at the question, scooting back to make room as his tentmate took that chance to plop down on their cot. Jet followed her in, stretching languidly and seating himself on cushions with them. 

From there, things began to progress as they had multiple times before. Smellerbee made the first move, tugging the willowy Longshot into an embrace, and Jet joined them as he shrugged off the clunky pieces of armor on his arms and shoulders. Undressing went quickly, there was no impulse to draw it out this time. He’d done this before; shrugging off the tension and stress of fighting the Fire Nation and relaxing with the crew who shared the same goals as he did. 

Except...it quickly became clear that something was very wrong.

The electric spark that Jet knew so well from fingers on his skin simply wasn’t there. The sense of pleasure that he drew from a kiss wasn’t surfacing. And the sight of bared skin was creating an excitement that was so dulled from what he was used to. Some things that shouldn't have bothered him started to jump out at him; the sight of fair skin and dark eyes felt undeniably off. Everything was just...wrong. And he had no way to put it into concrete words.

But the familiar image Jet's brain instinctively crafted to replace them in his mind was even more anxiety-inducing; it was like everything around him was conspiring to make Jet think about him again when he wanted to do anything else. Subconsciously, a frown began to form on his face at the realization, and the two of them both noticed, pulling away. 

"Jet?" When he didn't immediately answer her pushy tone, Smellerbee pushed him back by the shoulder to get some space, "I knew that this was a bad idea." 

Jet stiffened up, "What? No, why do you say that?" He didn’t want to give up already.

She twisted her expression, looking even more annoyed, "Jet, I can tell you're not even enjoying this." Jet wanted to argue that, because since had he ever blown off steam with his crew and hadn't enjoyed it? Except it was more than obvious that she was right about him, both physically and mentally. Embarrassingly enough, his dick was still soft and uninterested, and he couldn't focus on the act at all. Contributing to the make-out session would be pretty difficult like this. 

Trying to salvage the situation, Jet jerked himself with more enthusiasm than he really felt, trying to imagine what could do with the rogue-ish fighter and archer. Except his body still refused to obey him. “Dammit,” He muttered, frustrated and confused, reduced to a third wheel. 

“He doesn’t know,” Longshot murmured, the first time he’d spoken aloud this entire time. 

And Jet, sick to death of people around him talking about him without saying it to his face, finally snapped, “What don’t I know? Why does everyone keep looking at me like I’m dying!?”

“You should try looking underneath that bandage once in a while,” Smellerbee snarked, and Jet found himself bringing up a hand to cover it, feeling defensive all of a sudden. The break in the skin should have long since healed over and he told himself ‘there’s nothing there’ but still felt the need to wear it. But Jet’s patience had run its course, and Smellerbee was all too willing to fill him in on the truth, “You’re Marked, Jet. I can smell it on you, clear as day.”

Jet clenched his teeth, his free hand finding his tunic and balled it up tightly between his fingers, “That’s not possible.” But the look in the girl’s eyes was spelled out: ‘then prove it.’ Fine. If he was finally being forced to talk about it… “It was Sokka, not Katara,” He bit out bitterly, answering a question that was probably coming next. If anyone else was going to make the same assumption that Sokka was back then… Jet shook it off, his fingers finding the edge of the wrapping and peeling it back. “And as everyone remembers, he’s an Omega, he literally can’t–”

Except as he felt around, he could feel an out-of-place divot in his skin, and stopped silent.

Wordlessly, Longshot handed him a worn mirror from the corner of the tent. Jet tilted the reflective glass slowly to find the visible mark on his neck, and he felt his teeth grinding together in response to seeing it. It was a white, semi-circular scar–the vague imprint of Sokka's canines–rimmed with a faint reddish tint. 

It was the stark, unambiguous sign of a Mating Mark. 

Jet dropped the mirror, feeling both sick to his stomach and warm in the face, "This is why everyone was avoiding me." In hindsight it seemed so obvious why he was distracted, but the fact that it just shouldn't be possible kept getting in the way of him figuring it out.

"I think most everyone in camp thought that you already knew," Smellerbee admitted to him, resting her chin on her knee. "To be honest, I did too until a few minutes ago." 

“A lot of them also thought it was Katara,” Longshot said calmly. Of course. If they scented the Mark, a lot of people would assume that an Alpha put it there. The alternative was too weird and unexpected. “Your fight with Sneers back there might have changed their minds though.”

For the most part, it made sense enough. There wasn't really a puzzle to untangle here; he couldn’t resist the chance to screw Sokka, the warrior Marked him, then Sokka left, and everyone smelled it . The kids probably thought he was out of sorts because his Mate left him (even the youngest likely knew what the bond meant, if not what was involved), but Jet hadn’t even known. And then Sneers, like a bullhound, scented weakness and jumped for the chance to challenge him. The unanswered question was The Duke’s unusual reticence, but with everything that was going on, he wouldn’t be surprised if that was connected as well.

And the cherry on top was that Sokka probably didn’t even fucking know what he’d done to him. 

“Well I guess that more or less explains why Sneers was so aggressive,” Jet groaned. “I knew he wanted to be in charge of the crew for a long time, and had some lingering jealousy going on, but as long as I kept my head, he didn’t try anything. But the moment I get careless, he’s eager and willing to pick fights right in front of everybody.” And that was really the worst of it. As unpleasant as participating in Alpha sparring matches was, Sneers doing it so openly ended with so many people leaving him and his shaken mentality. 

Smellerbee cringed slightly, glancing back towards the entrance, “Given our conversations over the past few months, I’m actually starting to believe that he was jealous of Sokka too.”

Oh… Jet drew back, trying to think back to a sign pointing to that he should’ve noticed. The fact that he didn’t usually go for other Alphas probably didn’t help. But, too little too late in the end. 

“What the heck…” Jet scrubbed a hand across his face, trying to put the pieces of his whole situation together in some kind of way that would let him find a solution to this. But what was he supposed to do? There weren’t any cures to make a Mark disappear! “This doesn’t make any sense! I’ve never even heard of an Omega being able to Mark an Alpha like this.”

“I have,” Longshot murmured, and both of the others shot glances at him. “Well, it was really more of a local legend. I don’t have any details…”

A legend. So still something so rare as to give him no guidance. Jet sighed in defeat and leaned his head back against the tent wall, distantly dragging his discarded clothes closer to him, now that this rendezvous was a bust from which there was no return. His body knew what it wanted, Sokka, and only Sokka. The bond was absolute; no one else could satisfy him anymore. And leading a proper resistance was challenging enough when his brain wasn’t hung up on the Omega who abandoned him, “So, what am I supposed to do now?”

“I don’t know, use your hand?” Smellerbee huffed, and Jet resisted the urge for an annoyed response. He was thinking about a more long-term solution, but there was that to think about too. “He’s your Omega, Jet. It’s up to you what you want to do about it.”

Mine. 

Jet snorted. What a joke. 

His? The Mark made it clear it was actually the other way around. Sokka was the one who claimed him and cut off his other options, even if he didn't know it yet.

He started pulling on his clothes roughly, willing to leave his two companions to themselves and find something to do by himself for the rest of the night. “I guess I'll leave you to it then. Make sure to have enough fun to make up for my absence,” Jet grumbled, rising to his feet.  Before pushing his way out of the tent Jet stopped and looked over his shoulder, “I heard that there’s a skilled doctor living a week’s journey north of here. I’m thinking about giving them a visit. I guess we’ll talk about it in the morning.” He quickly moved on then, without waiting for a reply, not wanting to spend another moment in another person’s presence. 

Longshot and Smellerbee deserved to still have some fun that evening without him getting in the way and being useless. 

Jet didn’t want to risk running into anyone else with his nerves so shot. He turned away from camp and returned to the treeline, hiding himself in the shadows of the forest, the sun well set. 

Huddled against the roots of a thick trunk, Jet stared into the dark woods, still struggling to come to terms with what was happening to him. He wasn’t planning to find a bondmate for years–if that–and he didn’t see himself as the type of guy to get tied down early, let alone that it would be a guy like Sokka. Sokka, who was bitingly sarcastic, sharply clever, and gorgeous enough to give his previous exploits a run for their money. And...a guy who only agreed to sleep with him through necessity, hated Jet, and was probably halfway across the fucking world by now. 

A string of laughter escaped from Jet’s mouth, half hysterical with bafflement and helpless want. 

“Fuck it,” He decided, shoving his pants down and grasping at his cock, no longer resisting his ever-present impulse to fantasize about the blue-eyed Omega. 

Sure enough, his body quickly began to react to the lewd thought of his “other half”, erection growing to hardness as he tried to remember the details of that night he had previously tried to forget. The “finale”was a bit too much for him to handle when he couldn’t repeat it, so he thought back to the first time that the warrior had set him over the edge and established his natural skill. Jet recalled how-despite how little experience he had to have-Sokka had been really good with his hands, and tried to emulate that kind of sloppy yet hungry determination that had driven him wild that night. What he wouldn’t give to have the other boy’s hands on him again. 

But then, just as Jet was starting to get into the groove of it all and established a pattern, his thought process was interrupted by something even more tempting:

‘I wonder if he’s good with his mouth too.’

Jet moaned, his thought process crumbling to pieces as he tried to imagine it, and important details like how exactly he’d convince Sokka to go down on him completely out of mind. Instead he was fixated on the fantasy, whether Sokka’s eyes would close, or if he’d stare Jet down challengingly the whole time. How it would feel to have full lips on him, maybe even the slightest pressure of his canines dragging across the head. Jet’s heels gouged up dirt as he strained, growling to the empty air, “C’mon, Sokka. Just do this for me one time. I’ll pay you back just as nice, I promise.” The lack of a response from his imaginary lover didn’t discourage him at all, and Jet quickly drew close to his needed release. His fingers tightened firmly around his cock as he came, boots digging hard into the ground beneath him and back pressing into the tree bark. 

But the post-orgasm bliss faded away into something much more sobering. Panting quietly, Jet stared blankly down at his wet fingers and as the minutes passed, he understood for the first time how truly bad this situation was for him right now. All he had was the fantasy. Sokka was long gone, and even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t want to touch Jet again after their last meeting.

“I’m so fucked,” Jet said quietly, his voice wavering slightly, the temporary sexual satisfaction he felt solid proof of his bond. And he worried-knew actually–that this was only going to get worse.