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Chapter Text

How Sokka stumbled upon the Pao Family Tea House was a story worthy of anecdote. In short, he spotted Jet—the same hooks-wielding, wheat-chewing, manipulative asshole that nearly drowned an entire village in his demented efforts to liberate it—in the over-crowded markets of Ba Sing Se, darting around all ninja-like and obviously up to no good. Sokka followed Jet without notifying the rest of the gang, figuring that Aang had enough on his plate with Appa still missing and the Earth King seemingly uninterested to the point of comatose to their urgent request for a conference. Meanwhile, Katara would only get all red-in-the-face and unhinged at the mere mention of Jet, and Toph—well, Toph didn’t even know who Jet was. And frankly, Sokka couldn’t spare the time and energy needed to explain to her why Jet—who by all means appeared outwardly as if he had every right to be here as a refugee—was deserving of their resentment and paranoia. Or at least, explaining to Toph would be a lot easier once Sokka had a better idea of what exactly Jet was up to. 

And now, here Sokka was, standing among a crowd of concerned citizens outside the Pao Family Tea House after Jet bolted into the shop like an absolute lunatic, shouting, “I’m tired of waiting! These two men are firebenders!”

Before long, banished fire prince Zuko-turned tea server was hurtling out the open doors alongside Jet, broadswords ringing against hook swords.

“What...the actual fuck,” Sokka said slowly, watching with equal measures of horror and fascination as the two most hot-headed, deranged, and violent jerks he has had the misfortune of knowing battled it out in the middle of a public square. 

“They’re firebenders! I’m telling you!” Jet continued to shout. “I saw the old man heating his tea!”

“He works in a tea shop!” Someone shouted back, and Sokka frowned because—well, Jet’s not wrong. But the thing was, Zuko—with his scar, and short hair, and Earth Kingdom garb—also appeared outwardly as if he had every right to be here, and proving otherwise would be a certain uphill battle as long as Zuko kept his cool and not pummel Jet with a fistful of fire. 

Which was no guarantee by any means, Sokka conceded. Maybe Jet wasn’t a complete fool after all. 

“Please, son, you’re confused! You don’t know what you’re doing!” The uncle stumbled out of the shop then, wringing his arms in abject worry as Jet proceeded to assault his nephew. The helpless old man act was convincing enough. Concerned citizens were growing restless, readying themselves to defend the uncle and nephew duo. 

Meanwhile, Jet and Zuko continued to swing, parry, and deflect one another before finally locking in a heated stalemate. 

“You must be getting tired of using those swords,” the freedom fighter taunted, his grin knife-sharp. “Bet you wish you had some help from a little fire blast right now.”

“You’re the one who needs help,” Zuko gritted out, and Sokka grimaced again by the periphery. Spirits, could he use some better comebacks. 

Jet spun around and lunged at the firebender from the opposite side, but Zuko managed to block him before advancing for a counterattack. Jet pulled back just in time to bend backwards, Zuko’s blade slicing the air above him, splitting that stupid straw in his mouth into halves. 

“You see that?” Jet stumbled, waving wildly at their murmuring audience. “The Fire Nation is trying to silence me! It’ll never happen!”

Cringing with second-hand embarrassment, Sokka buried his face in his hands. Jet—for all of his feral charm and charisma—couldn’t read a room even if his life depended on it. Sure, Sokka knew the truth about Zuko, but Jet was failing hard and fast at convincing anyone else with his aggression and baseless accusations. And the idiot was too haughty to even realize how far the scales had tipped against him.

Should...he be doing something to help? The thought flitted through Sokka’s mind then, belated as it was. But whose side was he even supposed to be on in this situation? Zuko was the disowned Fire Nation prince, hell-bent on capturing the Avatar and stripping the world of their last hope, hunting Sokka and his friends from across the globe and nearly killing them on multiple occasions. Meanwhile, Jet was a radicalized rogue who manipulated other young warriors into aiding him in violent acts of terrorisim, who was more than willing to murder an entire village in his deranged pursuit of vengeance. Spirits, Sokka hated these assholes and wondered, for a moment, whether they could possibly both lose the fight. 

The Dai Li eventually arrived, and just as Sokka expected, dragged away a protesting Jet. The freedom fighter had failed to convince the crowd, and several bystanders advocated for Zuko, insisting that he was only acting in self-defense. In a crescendo of hushed whispers, the onlookers dispersed once the show was over, leaving Sokka standing alone in the middle of the street. 

He and Zuko locked eyes then, and Sokka managed to catch a fleeting flash of bemusement followed by startled recognition. Zuko quickly rearranged his features to a scowl, chin lifting with stubborn defiance as if challenging Sokka to approach with his own grievances next, if he dared. 

But Sokka wasn’t an idiot like Jet. He wasn’t going to attack Zuko in the open, screaming for his arrest with no actual proof to back it up. He returned an angry glare instead, an unspoken warning that this was far from over, before dissipating with the rest of the crowd. 

~~

Sokka waited two nights before approaching the Pao Family Tea House, just as Zuko’s uncle was closing the shop for the night. He had chosen to confront the elder of the two firebenders because rather than a fight, Sokka wanted answers, which tended to come more readily with verbal coherence and emotional stability—something that the fire prince lacked in spades. 

And despite being a Fire Nation general, the uncle had helped them in the North Pole when his compatriot destroyed the moon spirit. He was the first person Sokka had ever met from the Fire Nation who appeared to adhere to some form of moral compass, and sure, the bars were incredibly low, but Sokka felt in his gut that the uncle might be someone he could trust in this situation, to provide some answers to his questions at least. 

“Hi,” Sokka said awkwardly as he approached the shop front. The old man continued to sweep the steps at a leisurely pace, seemingly unmoved by Sokka’s sudden appearance

“Good evening, young man. I was expecting a visit from you.”

“You were?” Sokka tensed, caught out.

“My nephew informed me of your presence during the debacle two nights ago. I have been expecting you since.”

“I’m not here to fight you or your nephew, or anything,” Sokka admitted, “I just want some answers.”

“Of course,” the uncle responded easily, setting the broom aside. “You must have a lot of questions. We can talk over some tea and maybe even a game of Pai Sho.”

“I—no, that’s fine—” Sokka stammered, face-flushed from the old man’s unexpected warmth. “I don’t really know how to play Pai Sho.”

“Ah,” the uncle mused, unperturbed. “But I’ve seen you during our regrettably less friendly encounters in the past, and I believe that you are a young man who can appreciate a complex game of strategy.”

“Well, I do like strategizing,” Sokka confessed, returning a tentative smile.

“Why don’t we step inside then?” The uncle appeared pleased by his response. “I will prepare some tea for us.” 

~~

Zuko and Uncle Iroh fled to Ba Sing Se as refugees, Sokka learned that night. After Zuko’s failure to capture the Avatar and Iroh’s betrayal of General Zhao at the North Pole, they were both branded as traitors by the Fire Nation, hunted and despised wherever they went. Sokka would have snickered at the apparent karmic retribution, but Uncle Iroh was so sincere in his apology that Sokka couldn’t bring himself to withhold any sympathy, let alone dish out his insults.

(Although, what Sokka was most sympathetic about was that Iroh had an ungrateful jerk like Zuko for a nephew.)

So Zuko and his uncle were refugees now, hoping to start a new life. A humble, quiet life of tea serving. Iroh believed that his nephew, despite his internal strife, would one day come to realize the error of his thinking and find peace in humility, and who was Sokka to judge whether they deserved a second chance or not? 

But until Zuko actually proved himself to be the man that Iroh believed him to be, Sokka wasn’t going to let his guard down either. 

In the days that followed, Sokka surveilled the tea shop at a distance, approaching only at closing time for a few Pai Sho games with Uncle. Sokka was still no match for a master like Iroh, but at least, he wasn’t losing as badly anymore. Iroh was full of praise for him after each game, generous with advice, and overall, simply delighted to find a youth who could appreciate the intricacy of Pai Sho. Sokka preened at the attention, swelling with pride every time. Affirmation was honestly so hard to come by when you were the only regular guy on a team of ultra-powerful benders. But what his friends lacked, and Sokka possessed, was the patience and foresight needed for leadership, and Sokka sharpened these skills with every game of Pai Sho, aided and encouraged by the unexpected mentor he found in Iroh.

Deeply, privately, Sokka had begun to wish that Iroh was his uncle instead. Zuko, being the reckless jerk he was, certainly took his clever uncle for granted.

Another week passed before Sokka gathered the nerve to enter the Pao Family Tea House in broad daylight. Uncle was nowhere to be found, probably in the kitchen preparing the latest batches of tea, but Zuko spotted Sokka right away, frowning thunderously as Sokka slipped into a vacant booth without shame. 

Ignoring the beckoning of several waiting customers, the fire prince stormed towards Sokka’s table, growling at him in a low, furious whisper. “I don’t know what you’re playing at by coming here, Water Tribe. But if you want to settle this, I’m more than happy to take you on tonight, outside.”

“I’m not here to see you,” Sokka snorted, craning his neck to free his field of vision from the angry jerk towering above him. He finally spotted Iroh by the kitchen entrance, balancing a tray of freshly brewed tea. Sokka broke into a grin, waving animatedly at the old man. “Good morning, Uncle!” 

“Ah, Sokka.” Uncle returned an affectionate smile. “Good morning!”

“Uncle?” Zuko, dumbstruck, glared at Sokka, and then to his uncle, and then back. “Why are you calling him uncle?”

Sokka shrugged. “Because that’s who he is?” 

“No, he’s my uncle!” Zuko hissed furiously, “You don’t get to call him that!”

“Well, what am I supposed to call him? Mushi? That’s a stupid name. Who even came up with it?” Sokka crossed his arms stubbornly, only to reconsider in the ensuing silence, before adding, “It was you, wasn’t it.”

Zuko's face was flushed in a deep, angry red, appearing nearly apoplectic with rage. Sokka sagged his shoulders in concession, heaving a world-weary sigh. 

“Alright Zuko—Can I call you Zuko?”

“Shut up about this, or I’ll—”

“Now, now, Nephew.” Uncle approached their table then, effectively silencing the fire prince with a heavy hand on his shoulder. “No need to threaten customers so early in the morning. It’s not good for business, or your chi.” He then directed his attention to their guest, smiling warmly at the Water Tribe boy. “Sokka, I hope the day has treated you well. What kind of tea would you like?”

“Jasmine tea, please,” Sokka beamed. 

“Excellent choice,” Uncle commended him, even for that. “Jasmine is my nephew’s favorite!”

And that, apparently, was the final straw that broke the ostrich horse’s back, as Zuko unleashed a disgruntled howl of frustration, storming away from them before shoving past the dividers that separated the kitchen from the rest of the shop.

Chapter Text

Since Uncle Iroh’s arrival at the Pao Family Tea House, the local quality of tea had improved considerably. More and more customers were becoming faithful regulars, and some mornings, Sokka would enter the small shop to find it packed to the brim. The increased traffic kept Zuko busy enough that he rarely glowered at Sokka anymore, which in turn, gave Sokka the opportunity to observe the fire prince without needing to return his hostility. Sokka found the experience unsettling, to watch Zuko so preoccupied with the mundane task of tea serving—brows furrowed in concentration rather than vexation, perpetual scowl softened. Zuko’s movements were often rushed and clumsy, his conversations stilted and stiff, but the customers seemed to genuinely like him, clapping him on the back and calling him “son” despite the former prince’s obvious displeasure at the displays of affection.

Zuko looks like any other moody teenager, Sokka thought, failing to realize he had been staring at the firebender nearly all morning until his view of Zuko was suddenly obstructed.

“Hi,” greeted a girl around his age, startling him from his reverie. “Mind if we share a table? It’s crowded in here today.”

“Oh, of course not,” Sokka insisted, scrabbling to organize his loose parchment to afford the girl more space. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks,” she said cheerily, sliding into the chair opposite of him, “My name’s Jin.”

“I’m Sokka,” Sokka grinned, “Nice to meet you.”

“What are you working on?” Jin asked, peering curiously at his stacks of paper. Sokka smiled proudly, showing her the latest schematic that he had been working on all week. 

“Oh, that’s a nice drawing of a whale,” Jin complimented, frowning just a little, “But I feel bad for all those people who were eaten.”

“What? That’s not a whale,” Sokka protested, snatching back his drawing so he could frown at it as well. “It’s supposed to be a war machine—an underwater war machine—powered by waterbenders.” 

“Oh, sorry,” Jin conceded rather sheepishly, leaning forward for another look. “But I see it now that you mentioned it. That’s really nice too.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Sokka grumbled, before finally recognizing her dark hair and eyes and friendly, dimpled smile. “I’ve seen you around here. Like a lot.”

Jin blushed and replied rather defensively, “Well, I’ve seen you here a lot too.”

“It’s a nice place to work,” Sokka admitted with an air of nonchalance, grinning again as he tapped a finger against his temple. “And ginseng tea keeps the mind sharp, you know? I’m friends with one of the servers here too.”

“You’re friends with Lee?” Jin asked, brightening instantly.

“Who’s Lee—oh, you mean Zu—uh—the angry jerk?” Sokka winced.

“He does look angry a lot of the time,” Jin laughed as they both turned to the tea server in question. Zuko glared back from across the room, catching the two of them staring. Sokka matched his scowl, but Jin ducked her head in a rush, looking utterly mortified.

“Stop staring, Spirits!” she hissed, swatting at Sokka to get his attention. 

“What’s the matter?” Sokka turned back to her and frowned, noticing the fierce blush spreading across her face. “Do you have a crush on Z—uh—Lee, or something?”

“Just a teeny one,” Jin admitted, hiding her face in her hands. “Is it obvious? I’m so embarrassed.”

“Well, no,” Sokka laughed, more out of incredulity than amusement, “I would’ve never guessed. You can do better than a jerk like him.”

“Oh,” Jin dropped her hands, appearing crestfallen, “Is he really a jerk?”

“Oh, yeah. Or at least, he used to be. He did a lot of terrible things to me and my sister and our friend,” Sokka grumbled, downing his resentment with the remains of his now lukewarm tea. “I’d rather not talk about it, though,” he added, grimacing.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jin’s dark eyes were sympathetic, but her resolve did not diminish—not entirely. “But that sounds like some time ago. Maybe he’s changed?”

“I doubt it,” Sokka snorted, “But Uncle—Lee’s uncle, but I call him Uncle too—believes in him, so maybe he could change. Who knows?”

“Anyone can change for the better if they set their heart to it.” Jin clapped her hands together, grinning with renewed enthusiasm. She jumped to her feet, punching Sokka affectionately on the shoulder in a way that was so reminiscent of Toph that Sokka flinched out of habit. “I’m going to ask Lee out on a date! Thanks for convincing me!”

“Wait, what?” Sokka protested, but Jin had already slipped out of her chair, trotting her way to Zuko by the counter. Sokka hissed after her, but to no avail. “That wasn’t what I was going for at all!”

~~

“My nephew has a date tonight,” Uncle informed Sokka later that evening, sounding pleased.

“Yeah, I know,” Sokka grumbled, rubbing his chin as he contemplated where to move his vulnerable white jade tile to avoid Uncle’s stone and knotweed trap. 

“She seems like a nice girl,” Uncle mused, “I’ve seen her around the tea house quite often. Do you know her?”

“Yeah, her name’s Jin,” Sokka said, finally deciding to move five spaces to the right, “But I’ve only met her just today too.”

“Thank you for not dissuading her from spending time with my nephew.” Uncle smiled, moving his knotweed tile in accordance as if he had anticipated Sokka’s well-deliberated move all along.

Sokka grimaced, a twinge of shame clenching his gut. “Well, I didn’t tell her he was a firebender,” he groused, “But I didn’t say anything good about him either. I wasn’t going to lie and make her think that he's a great person, or anything.”

“Honesty is important,” Uncle agreed, “But the fact that she was not dissuaded entirely in the end had led me to believe that, perhaps, you were more generous in your appraisal than you might realize. If not, fair.”

“Well, whether or not she wants to date Zuko is none of my business,” Sokka scoffed, finding it easier to hold on to his anger without confronting Uncle’s fond smile, so he glowered at the Pai Sho board instead. “She can find out for herself how much of a jerk he is.”

“I know my nephew has many flaws—” Iroh admitted, his sentence briefly interrupted by Sokka’s contemptuous snort. “—But I think it will do him good to spend time with young people his age, to enjoy his youth as youths ought to. My nephew, he did not have the easiest of childhoods.”

“Right,” Sokka drawled, rolling his eyes, “Being the prince of the Fire Nation must be sooo hard.” 

Guilt seized him before the sentence could properly conclude on his tongue, and Uncle’s frown only made Sokka wish he could yank back those venomous words altogether.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled an apology before the older man had a chance to respond.

“You are right in that wealth and other material luxuries were readily available,” Iroh conceded, his gentle smile returning, “But my nephew's life was devoid of much companionship, tenderness, love...”

Iroh told Sokka about how Zuko had once been a sweet, sensitive child—cared for and indulged by his doting mother. But the light of his childhood soon dwindled when he lost his mother, was overshadowed by his unkind sister, and then, abused and banished by his cruel father. Uncle explained in detail how Zuko had received his infamous scar at the young age of thirteen, after speaking out at a war council against a general who had proposed to sacrifice an entire division of new recruits as a diversionary tactic. Such outburst was perceived as a grave insult, and Zuko was challenged to an Agni Kai, only to realize upon facing his opponent the day of the duel, that it was his father, and not the general, whom he had insulted. The young prince had fallen to his knees, pledging his loyalty and begging tearfully for forgiveness. The Fire Lord deemed the prince’s refusal to fight his own father an act of cowardice, scarring Zuko’s face with his own hands, before banishing the prince from his homeland.

Zuko could only return after capturing the Avatar, who had disappeared nearly one hundred years ago. By all accounts, the task was meant to be a senseless errand, but Zuko had clasped on to that last shred of hope, searching tirelessly for two years before docking his ship in Sokka’s village at the South Pole.

“To capture the Avatar was the fate that the Fire Lord had chosen for Zuko, never his own,” Uncle concluded solemnly, “And Zuko is desperate to earn his father’s approval, his love.”

Even though, from an outsider’s perspective, this love obviously could never be earned, for it simply never existed. 

Sokka swallowed thickly, feeling terrible. He had always assumed that Zuko deserved any misfortune thrown his way, even that scar, but...no one deserved that kind of cruelty, certainly not a child at the hands of his own father for rightfully speaking out against injustice. 

Sokka wished he didn’t know this. He didn’t want to feel sorry for a guy who never once hesitated to inflict pain on others for his own gain. And Zuko too would loath to know that Sokka was now privy to such agonizing secrets of his past, although there was nothing Sokka could do now, with the information already in his head, screwing with all of his preexisting sentiment towards the firebender. 

Sokka looked up to find Iroh watching him with kind, almost apologetic eyes. He sighed, not wanting to blame Uncle for confiding in him or making him feel whatever the hell he was feeling at the moment. Iroh just wanted his nephew to be understood, and Zuko, whether he realized or not, was incredibly lucky to have someone like Uncle looking out for him.

Sokka sighed again, bereaved of speech from the sudden, unwanted whiplash of emotions. He stared at their neglected Pai Sho board instead, mumbling begrudgingly, “I’m going to lose in the next five moves, aren’t I?” Maybe even less, upon closer inspection.

“Yes,” Iroh chuckled, crossing his arms beneath his sleeves. “But foreseeing the likely outcome to even an impossible situation is a commendable skill on its own. 

~~

Jin wasn’t at the tea shop the following day. Sokka wondered if the date had gone poorly, not that he could tell from watching Zuko. He looked like his same moody self, maybe even moodier, although Sokka could easily have imagined that difference. But he also sure as hell wasn’t going to ask the firebender how his date went, no matter how much curiosity ate at him.

Two more days passed without any sight of Jin, and Sokka was beginning to draw his own conclusions. Maybe his words had gotten to her in the end, belatedly and during the date. And he felt an echo of regret now that he knew better the reason why Zuko was the way he was. Sokka needed to find Jin. Barring a complete disaster of a first date, maybe he could change her mind about giving Zuko another chance. 

Sokka eventually spotted Jin at the market, buying pears from a street vendor.

“Hey, Jin!” he called out, jogging towards her.

Jin turned around, eyes wide with surprise. “Oh, hey, Sokka. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to ask you how the date went with Lee,” Sokka admitted, “But you haven’t been at the tea shop all week.”

Jin averted her eyes, cheeks reddening. “Well, that answers that, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I just hope it wasn’t because of anything I said.” Sokka rubbed his neck awkwardly, “Sure, I’ve known Lee for awhile, and he’d been a jerk pretty much the entire time, but—I guess I don’t actually know him. Not like Uncle, who really believes in him, you know?”

“What are you trying to say?” Jin pinched her brows in confusion.

Sokka inhaled, braving himself for the conclusion of his reluctant spiel. “What I’m trying to say is that it might be worth giving him a second chance if you’re not entirely sure about him.”

“Thanks, Sokka,” Jin said, sounding dejected, “But I don’t think that’s up to me.”

“What do you mean?” He blinked at her, genuinely perplexed.

“I thought the date went well,” Jin admitted, “We even kissed at the end, but then—he just ran off, saying it’s complicated or something. Spirits, I’m so embarrassed.”

“Well, don’t be,” Sokka huffed, indignant to learn that he personally did not ruin Zuko’s chances with Jin but rather, Zuko had unceremoniously ruined them himself. “He’s an idiot if he can’t see how great you are.”

“I-I don’t know,” Jin said, before adding with a touch of hesitance. “And I think I know what he did to hurt you and your sister.”

She told him about Firelight Fountain, one of her favorite places in the city because at night, the lamps made the water glisten in the most beautiful way. But when she finally brought Zuko there, much to her disappointment, the candles were unlit. And Zuko, after making her promise not to look, somehow managed to magically light all the lamps for her. 

“I know he’s a firebender,” she whispered quietly to Sokka, “But I—I didn’t care. He’s in Ba Sing Se now with his uncle, probably for the same reasons my family fled here a year ago. We’re all here because the war took away our homes.”

“He...must have liked you to risk his neck like that,” Sokka admitted, swallowing a strange lump in his throat. It felt weird—unnatural and plain wrong —to imagine Zuko risking everything for the happiness of someone else. Someone he decided not to see again in the end.

“I get the feeling he has a lot he needs to sort out. He probably needs a friend more than a girlfriend, you know?” Jin sighed, before turning to Sokka with an expression of pity, “Will you talk to him for me?”

“Me?” Sokka dropped his jaw, a surprised laugh leaving his lips as her words finally sank in. “No way. That’s not a good idea at all. We hate each other, remember?”

“You said I should give him a second chance,” Jin encouraged with a delicate smile. “Maybe you should consider it too, for the same reasons.”

And how was Sokka supposed to argue with logic like that?

Chapter Text

Feigning as much nonchalance as he could physically muster, Sokka sauntered across the teashop to where Zuko was updating the menu, before leaning an elbow against the counter that separated him and the firebender.

“So,” he began with emphasis, the smile he wore unnaturally strained, “If you’re free after work, I thought maybe we could check out the night market together.”

Zuko blinked back at him, brows pinched with a mixture of confusion and disdain as he did a quick survey of the people, or lack thereof, around them, before finally responding with undisguised contempt, “Are you talking to me?”

“Yes, I’m talking to you, you jerkb—” Sokka nearly bit off his tongue in his attempt to swallow back the insult, knowing fully well that name-calling would only thwart his efforts to be civil. He had promised Jin that he would at least try to be friends with Zuko, which was exactly what he had set out to do. And as soon as the firebender balked at the suggestion like the absolute jerk he was, Sokka could return to designing war machines and enjoying Uncle's tea, sans-obligation. 

Inhaling deeply, he renewed his attempt to appear sincere. “Look—uh, Lee—since we’re both pretty new to the city, it might be fun to browse the shops and try the street food. Only if you’re interested, that is. If not, I completely understand—”

“Okay.” Zuko's response was devoid of any readable emotion, and it was Sokka’s turn to unceremoniously sputter.

“You—what? Did you just say okay to that?”

“Unless you didn’t mean it,” the firebender accused, his scowl returning, and Sokka bristled under his glare.

“Of course, I meant it,” he insisted, feeling annoyingly defensive. “I just—” didn’t expect you to agree, came the inconvenient truth, which Sokka drove away with an irate shake of his head. “Never mind, that settles it then,” he ventured on with more confidence than he felt. “I’ll meet you here at sundown. Don't be late.”

~~

Zuko appeared outside of the teashop promptly at closing and approached where Sokka had been waiting for him across the street, pausing once he was a respectable arm’s distance away and appearing as uncomfortable as Sokka felt.

“Well, here we are,” Sokka chuckled nervously, swallowing hard. Hope was too foolish of a sentiment in hindsight, but Sokka had convinced himself that Zuko most likely wouldn’t show up after having an entire afternoon to ponder how utterly ridiculous Sokka’s proposal was in the first place. And consequently, Sokka gave little thought in deciding where they would go or what he should say if, or when, Zuko actually did appear. 

“So...uh, what do you want to do?” Sokka managed, sounding like an idiot.

Zuko must have realized too, as he narrowed his eyes and pointed out rather peevishly, “This was your idea.”

“I’m open to suggestions,” Sokka retorted, only to be disrupted by a loud rumble coming from the vicinity of Zuko’s abdomen. The firebender clutched the fabric covering his navel, his face reddening with embarrassment. He hadn’t had time for dinner—obviously—having gotten off work just now. 

Sokka wanted to laugh at this untimely and all-too-human reaction, but he thought better of it as Zuko most likely would have interpreted his amusement as malice or mockery. 

“Duly noted,” he said instead, turning to the cluster of vendors further down the street and leaving the firebender to follow.

Sokka bought some fried noodles, octopus balls, and a dozen soup dumplings to share. They found an empty table for two near the edge of the market area and sat across from one another, eating their dinners in mostly tense silence as Sokka glared into the endless abyss of all the taboo subjects that he ought to avoid. 

“Why’d you agree to come out with me?” he eventually blurted out. Not the most affable attempt at conversation, he conceded, but he could’ve done worse. Much worse.

“Why do you hang around my uncle so much?” Zuko countered without missing a beat, and that answered Sokka’s question, he supposed, even if it hadn't been the firebender's intention.

“Uncle’s teaching me Pai Sho,” Sokka explained, “We’re friends.”

“Friends?” Zuko scoffed, “As if you wouldn’t expose him as a firebender the moment it becomes convenient for you.”

“Why?” Sokka snorted, “Is that what you’d do to your friends?”

Zuko tensed, and Sokka wasn’t sure which part of his multi-layered insult managed to strike something tender—Zuko’s disposition to betray, to be betrayed by others, or his utter lack of friends whom he could possibly betray—perhaps a combination of all three. Sokka felt little remorse in the sharpness of his jibe, however. It wasn’t his fault if Zuko could dish out insults but couldn’t take them. 

“I don’t know why my uncle lets you hang around,” was the firebender’s eventual reply. “But if you do anything to endanger him—”

“I’m not going to hurt Uncle,” Sokka interrupted, appalled by the suggestion. “I like him. Spirits, if it weren’t for him, I would have exposed you a long time ago.”

Zuko’s jaw snapped shut, lips pressed to a grim line. He looked away then, furious with Sokka, and perhaps, also with himself, for being so helpless in the wake of Sokka’s careless threats. And it only dawned on Sokka then, the extent of his power over the firebender as a keeper of his secrets. Zuko might not be a prince anymore, but at least, he was safe and free in Ba Sing Se. And Sokka could have ruined everything if it hadn’t been for his unexpected friendship with Uncle. 

He could still ruin everything, for all Zuko was concerned.

A younger Sokka would have relished the opportunity to lord over the fire prince. Nowadays...not so much. Anxious and defeated, with his ego-bruised—helplessness wasn’t a particularly good look on Zuko. Even if Sokka preferred this over homicidal any day.

“Look,” he sighed, not wanting their night to unravel completely. “I didn’t ask you to come out so I can threaten to expose you or rub that in your face.”

“Then why did you?” Zuko snapped, and Sokka had to pause to swallow the vitriol on the tip of his tongue. Because Jin wanted him to. And Uncle too, even though he never mentioned it outright. Because kind people existed in Zuko’s life, who didn’t want to see him angry and alone like a friendless loser. And for some unfathomable reason, Sokka was deemed the best man for the job, despite having the worst opinion of the firebender out of everyone involved.

That was the truth, sure, but he didn’t think Zuko would appreciate the truth. 

Sokka winced instead and grappled for an agreeable—if not, neutral—response. 

“I want to be your—friend, ” he managed, although the last word made his mouth twist as if he had swallowed a lime. Zuko remained unconvinced, his anger and distrust brewing still, and he appeared just about to tell Sokka off before Sokka insisted, with vehemence, “Or, at least—I believe that you’re trying your best to be a good person and start a new life, or whatever this is.”

Words seemed to evade the firebender as he stared back in disbelief, affording Sokka another brief beat of silence to continue.

“I’m willing to trust you as long as Uncle still trusts you,” he pushed on, “And we both know he’s not about to give up on you any time soon. And I mean it when I said he’s my friend. I like playing Pai Sho with him, and he gives great advice on a lot of things. You’re really lucky to have him, you know? I’ve never had an uncle, but if I did, I’d want him to be like Iroh.”

The admission made Sokka blush, but he had little time to contemplate this reaction.

“Sometimes, I feel like he’s more of a father than my actual father,” Zuko admitted and then, appeared shocked, as if he never intended for those thoughts to transpire, let alone said aloud. 

“Uh—” Sokka began, flashes of fire and his imagined Agni Kai materializing in his mind.

“I didn’t mean that,” Zuko said quickly, grimacing with barely contained mortification. “Uncle’s not—I have a father.”

“Sure, but Uncle has been—” No, no, Sokka had to stop himself because he wasn’t supposed to know any of that. And the last thing he wanted was for Zuko to realize the extent of his knowledge now.

“You can’t tell him I said that,” Zuko growled, his sudden anger snapping Sokka back to the present. 

“Uncle or your father?” Sokka said in jest and then, berated himself fully. Not everything needed to end in a joke, he reminded himself, and nor did he need to share every joke that came to mind. The way Zuko blanched at his last comment only made Sokka's guilt triple.

“Uncle wouldn’t mind knowing,” he insisted, gently this time, “He’d take it as a compliment, really.”

“That’s not the point,” Zuko shouted, rising so abruptly that their plates and utensils nearly clattered off the table. “You can pretend Uncle is your uncle all you like because you don’t have an uncle. But I have a real father.”

And with that, Zuko stormed away, leaving Sokka dumbstruck among the remains of their half-eaten dinner.

~~

The next couple of days were awkward as hell, but Sokka kept to himself and worked on his schematics in his quiet corner of the teashop. Uncle had asked how his night with Zuko had been, his concern barely hidden each time, but Sokka only shrugged in a demeanor too casual to be convincing, insisting that the night could’ve been way worse, so he wasn’t going to complain.

He doubted Zuko would tell Iroh anything, given how horrified he had been by their revelations that night. And Sokka decided to keep Zuko’s secret. He had enough secrets to keep regarding the firebender, so what was one more to add to the list? And besides, it felt like the right thing to do.

Midday afternoon on the third day, Zuko broke their silence, much to Sokka’s surprise. He approached Sokka’s table with a pot of Jasmine tea that he didn’t order, along with two tickets to some gaudy theater show tucked beneath the silver tray.

“I didn’t ask for—” Sokka began but was abruptly cut off.

“It’s on the house,” Zuko offered, “I wanted to apologize—for my behavior the other night. It was rude of me to leave so abruptly.”

“Uh—don’t sweat it,” Sokka insisted, taking a closer look at the proffered tickets in order to hide his unease. “The tale of Oma and Shu, in The Cave of Two Lovers?”

“It was Uncle’s idea,” explained the firebender, “Some local actors put on a performance every few months or so, and Uncle likes to support the arts.”

“There are two tickets.”

“Uncle only had two. I guess you’ll have to pick your favorite out of your friends.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Sokka protested, annoyed by Zuko’s rude assumption. “Never mind, uh—do you want to go?”

Zuko glared back at him, rightfully baffled. “Why would you—” he began, just as Sokka raised a hand to stop him from continuing.

“Don’t take it the wrong way,” he grimaced, fully aware of how his proposition must have sounded. The play was a love story, for Spirit’s sake. “I haven’t told anyone about you or your uncle being here in Ba Sing Se, so there really isn’t anyone I could take without having to explain where I got these tickets from.”

“Oh,” Zuko said, appearing hesitant still.

“Only if you want to go, that is,” Sokka shrugged. “Otherwise, it’ll go to waste.”

Chapter Text

The stage lights dimmed behind the bowing actors as the curtains fell to a smatter of applause. Sokka was still chewing on the last bits of his fried dough puffs when Zuko shot up from the seat beside him—fist clenched and body tense—his displeasure so palpable that it practically rolled off him in waves. 

Sokka followed the firebender out of the theatre and into the night streets, commenting drily once they were alone, “Not a fan, I’m guessing?” 

“Are you kidding me?” Zuko snapped with more vehemence than Sokka had anticipated. “Are you saying you liked it?”

“It was alright.” Sokka shrugged, noncommittal. “Kind of soppy for my taste, but that’s just how love stories are.”

“That’s not the point,” protested the firebender, his lips curling into a condescending sneer as he narrowed his eyes, before accusing, “Do you even know how the legend goes?”

“Of course I know how the legend goes,” Sokka scowled, the unexpected derision only serving to rile up his competitive nature. “I’ve actually been inside that cave, you know? The Cave of Two Lovers from the legend.”

Barely two months had passed since Sokka, Katara, and Aang stumbled into Omashu by way of cave, but so much had happened afterwards that Sokka struggled to recall all the details, including who exactly had been chasing them at the time, forcing them to travel by cave. Probably Zuko, if he had to give his best guess, but he clamped down on his indignation before any snide remarks could escape, not wanting to start an argument with the firebender so late into the night.

“Well, they changed the ending,” Zuko, with his arms crossed, complained rather petulantly. “It’s an insult to the original story, and they shouldn’t have done that.”

“Now, you’re kidding,” Sokka said, and then laughed, equal parts surprised and genuinely amused. Who would’ve guessed that Zuko, of all people, would take such deep offense to some amateur playwright's liberal retelling of an old legend—a story that didn’t even belong to his own people.

“I’m not saying those changes made the play better,” Sokka insisted, trying to sound reasonable while making an apparently criminally controversial statement. At least, according to the firebender's thunderous frown. “But you have to admit, the original ending was a bit of a downer.”

“The legend was a tragedy for a reason!” Zuko objected, proffering a rather unpleasant reminder of what the play was actually about and every reason why Sokka should still be angry at the firebender, regardless of their tentative truce for the past couple of days.

Which was a pity because they had gotten along so well tonight, up until now.

“To remind everyone how terrible the war is, right?” Sokka replied, unable to hide the sourness in his voice or the accusatory glint in his eyes. “I don’t think the people here need to be reminded of that.”

Zuko fell silent, his body tensing as he matched Sokka’s glare. Spirits, were they nearing dangerous territory. One more wrong word could end the entire evening in a shouting match.

“It’s not just about how terrible the war is,” Zuko responded eventually, his face still angry but his eyes were pensive, almost sad. “It’s also Oma declaring an end to the war rather than seeking revenge. In the legend, she chose peace in spite of losing Shu.”

“Right,” Sokka conceded with a sigh, feeling uncourteous to hold onto his resentment when the firebender, surprisingly, had taken a step to preserve their fragile peace. “And changing the story so that Shu magically survives kind of takes away from the significance of her decision.”

Zuko nodded without meeting his eyes, and Sokka felt oddly impressed by the firebender’s insights into a story centered around the virtues of human compassion. Too bad those insights never translated to his own actions when causing suffering to others in the past.

“What does it matter, anyway?” Zuko continued with an air of exasperation, speaking more to himself now than to Sokka. “Real people would never be selfless like that.”

“Maybe not you or me,” Sokka admitted, the honesty in his response surprising them both. “But truly selfless people do exist, and you have no idea how much of an impact they can make. They inspire the people around them to be better.”

Sokka, of course, was thinking about Aang—a boy of twelve who carried the hope of the world on his shoulders. Despite losing his family, his culture, and everyone he had once known and loved, Aang still held remarkable faith in the goodness of others. But above all else, Aang was forgiving and kind, even towards people who had hurt him in the past, people who continued to hurt him with unrelenting, unfounded cruelty.

It was Aang who had convinced Sokka and Katara to save Zuko at the North Pole, during a time when Zuko had been purposefully trying to kill them. Spirits know how far his compassion could reach if he were in Sokka's place, as a reluctant confidant of Zuko's family traumas and miserable past.

But Zuko didn’t deserve Aang’s kindness, Sokka thought bitterly. The world did not deserve his kindness.

“Uncle is kind of like that.” Zuko’s quiet voice jolted Sokka from his internal diatribe. Caught out, all he could manage in return was, “Huh?”

“Uncle,” the firebender repeated, although his golden eyes had hardened by the time they met Sokka's. “He didn’t have to follow me into exile, but—he did. I wouldn’t have made it to the South Pole, let alone survived three years at sea, if it weren’t for him.”

Lucky for you, too bad for us, Sokka seethed but managed to hold his tongue, before being struck by a startling realization. This was the first time Zuko had openly and willingly acknowledged his banishment to Sokka, as well as his gratitude towards Uncle, and earlier—albeit, reluctantly—his interest in stories and legends. And Sokka couldn't help but wonder if something significant had taken place between them for Zuko to share these details of his life, when before, he seemed perfectly content in being a rude, angry jerk and nothing more.

“What?” Zuko demanded sharply, as if offended, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I’m not,” Sokka protested, although he had no idea what the firebender meant by like that, “I guess it’s just different—but like, a good different—to see that you care.”

“About Uncle?” Zuko scowled, “Of course I care about my uncle.”

“No, I don’t mean Uncle,” Sokka grimaced, “Well, him too, but—also everything else we talked about tonight. The legend of Oma and Shu, the significance of the ending—all of that. I didn’t know you cared about these kinds of things.”

“I don’t,” Zuko countered, as if his instinct drove him to be contrary, irrespective of what point Sokka was trying to make. “But I was taught—that stories and legends connect us to the past, and we need to preserve them and retell them truthfully to keep ourselves from making the same mistakes. When we see history repeating itself, something must have gone wrong with the way we tell our stories.”

“Uncle said that?” Sokka nudged carefully, but the firebender shook his head.

“No, my mother,” he admitted with a reluctant smile that lasted only the span of a fleeting heartbeat. “Even though she made us watch Love Amongst the Dragons every year, no matter how much the director butchered it.”

Sokka considered himself an inventor and a man of science, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate the arts, or enjoy talking to someone who seemed genuinely interested in it.

“You should consider writing to the theatre or something,” he grinned at the firebender, for once, without irony. “You have some good ideas, and maybe, they’d let you direct the next one.”

“I’d rather serve tea for the rest of my life than work with those talentless morons,” Zuko scoffed in his usual acerbic and overly dramatic way. It wasn’t intended to be funny, but the sheer absurdity of those words snuck up on Sokka.

A bout of laughter stifled in his throat, choking him, but Sokka couldn’t bring himself to stop laughing, even as the firebender narrowed his eyes and demanded, “What’s so funny?”

~~

They traversed the public square, returning in the direction they had come. Zuko was going home to the apartment he shared with Uncle, while Sokka’s obvious next destination was the train station just beyond the markets. It was a shame that the night had to end so soon, and Sokka felt an unpleasant twist in his gut upon catching himself with that thought. But it was true that he was having a surprisingly good time. Maybe he could squeeze in a game of Pai Sho with Uncle before retiring for the night, but Zuko wouldn’t join them for that—he never did.

Probably because he sucked, Sokka thought peevishly and found some consolation in his reasoning.

The streets narrowed as they deviated from the main paths, cutting through an alley where two men struggled to calm a bucking ostrich horse. A half-opened window caught Sokka’s attention then, or more precisely, the bright light and the trills of girlish voices pouring through that window. 

Sokka tiptoed closer for a better look, peering inside to where a poetry club was currently in session—Five-Seven-Five Society, he read on a hanging banner.

“Through all the long night,” recited a young woman, “Winter moon glows with bright love, sleet her silver tears."

“Ah, poetry,” Sokka sighed in appreciation, just as Zuko, somewhere hidden in the darkness behind him, hissed, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“There’s a poetry gathering inside,” Sokka noted, “With at least a dozen pretty girls.”

“Stop it. You’re being a creep, and you’re going to get caught.” Annoyance practically radiated off Zuko, but his show of obvious displeasure only served to edge Sokka further. 

“A man can appreciate poetry, can’t he?” Sokka countered with a grin, turning just so he could wiggle his eyebrows at Zuko and make evident that poetry was definitely not all that he was appreciating.

Zuko widened his eyes almost comically and narrowed them again as irritation returned tenfold. But before Sokka could mock the firebender for his paranoia, he was sent crashing through the window by that bucking ostrich horse, to which he had given so little thought until now. Bright light flooded his vision, terrified shrieks soaked his ears. By the time Sokka gathered his wits, he was staring up at the unimpressed face of the haiku master whose name, he would soon learn, was Madame Macmu-Ling.

~~

Macmu-Ling did not find his antics amusing. Sneering down at him, she explained the rules of haiku, in a haiku—as if Sokka couldn’t possibly grasp what a haiku was—and then, ended the short poem by calling him an oaf. Sokka despised people like her, who often looked down on people like him and assumed him stupid just because he didn’t wear the right clothes or speak in fancy prose. 

“They call me Sokka, that is in the Water Tribe,” Sokka introduced himself, making a show of counting five syllables on his fingers, “I am not an oaf.”

In the corner of his eyes, he could see Zuko leaning in through the broken window, hissing for him to just leave. Sokka reached over instead, grabbing Zuko by the front of his shirt and dragging him inside, because, well, he wasn’t leaving until he showed this woman that he was not some idiot she could underestimate. And what better way to tell her off than to wow the crowd of pretty girls—her students? 

And Sokka figured that, if he were to impress, he might as well be part of a double act. He never had the luxury of a wingman before, when his only male friend was Aang, a hopeless child who was so obviously in love with Katara (gross!) that it made Sokka cringe just thinking about it. But with Zuko, Sokka could slip into his natural persona as the charismatic entertainer, while Zuko—willingly or not—would be his perfect, brooding foil.

“This is my friend Lee,” Sokka declared, swinging an arm over the firebender before he could convince himself otherwise with all the reasons he shouldn’t swing an arm over the firebender. “Server of tea at Pao’s shop. Isn’t he handsome?”

This was, perhaps, the most flattering introduction Zuko would ever get out of him, but the firebender still shoved Sokka away with a discernible amount of vehemence. And then, as if frozen in the spotlight, Zuko bristled under the curiosity of their audience, flushing when a few girls whispered and giggled at him.

“Tittering monkey, in the spring he climbs treetops, and thinks himself tall.”

Macmu-Ling’s patronizing voice recaptured their attention, as a hot surge of competitiveness rose in Sokka's chest. If she thought she could make a fool of him in front of all these girls, and Zuko (somehow the latter seemed the more severe of the two crimes), then she had another thing coming. 

They battled with their words, goaded on by the oohs and aahs from their enthusiastic audience, until Macmu-Ling reluctantly descended the stage, swallowing defeat as one would with a sour lemon. The girls clapped and cheered as Sokka spun around to grin victoriously at Zuko, who hadn’t moved an inch from where Sokka had left him, looking vexed and not in the least bit impressed.

But that was just how his face tended to look, Sokka reasoned, trying not to feel disappointed. Most of the time, he ignored Zuko’s face anyway.

“That’s right, I’m Sokka! It’s pronounced with an ‘okka’. Young ladies, I rocked ya!”

Much to his consternation, his closing act was met with grimacing silence and a single audible groan from the firebender behind him. Sokka reviewed the poem in his head, counting the syllables on his fingers before realizing, tragically, that his last line was one syllable too many.

~~

“Oh, come on, that was fun! Admit you had fun,” Sokka whined, jogging to keep pace with the firebender who seemed determined to storm off without him.

“Standing behind you like an idiot while you made an even bigger idiot of yourself?” Zuko glowered over his shoulder, “You call that fun?”

“The girls loved it!” Sokka defended, “For the most part at least, until I screwed up at the end. But I bet some of them would still talk to us if we go back.”

“Why would they?” Zuko scoffed derisively.

“Me for my charm, wit, and charisma, of course,” Sokka gloated, “And you for your brooding good looks.”

The firebender paused so suddenly that Sokka nearly crashed into his back. He then huffed, but beneath his obvious irritation, he sounded embarrassed.

“Hey, I mean it, you know?” Sokka insisted, rounding the other so that they were finally talking face-to-face. “I saw those girls looking at you back there.”

“Right,” Zuko said softly, bringing a hand to touch the scar tissue covering his left eye, a gesture so small and inadvertent that it made Sokka’s gut lurch with sympathy.

“No, I don’t mean that,” he insisted without thinking—couldn't risk dwelling on the implications of those thoughts if he wanted to get his next words out—and it somehow felt imperative that he did. “I don’t care about that. Jin didn’t care. And neither do those girls back there.”

“You...don’t care?” 

It was weird for Sokka to include himself in his declarations, but perhaps, even more weird that Zuko chose to fixate on that part specifically.

“I-I mean, objectively speaking, you’re not bad looking in the face,” Sokka stammered, grateful for the darkness around them that hid his burning embarrassment. “Do you like guys or something?”

The affronted sound that escaped Zuko, perhaps, revealed more than what the firebender would have liked.

“I mean—it’s fine if you do, or don’t—either way," Sokka sputtered uselessly, wrong-footed by the unexpected turn in their conversation. "I do, you know? I like both."

There, a secret for a secret. That hopefully would placate the firebender enough to not breathe fire at Sokka in the middle of a dingy alley. And once the danger of immediate death seemed to have passed, Sokka carefully added, “I just figured if that’s what you’re into, we don’t have to waste time trying to pick up girls.”

“I don’t want to pick up anybody!” Zuko shouted, rife with exasperation, shoving past Sokka so that he could carry on with his angry departure.

“Okay, alright.” Sokka jogged after him, his face still split in a guileless grin, despite Zuko no longer acknowledging it or him. “We can do something else next time, yeah?”