Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The forest loomed, thick with the scent of damp earth and rich foliage. Every step Sokka took was deliberate, his breath measured, his muscles taut with vigilance. The trees rose like silent sentinels around him, their gnarled roots twisting through the undergrowth. High above, the canopy wove a nearly impenetrable ceiling, allowing only the occasional sliver of moonlight to pierce through, casting ghostly patterns along the forest floor. The only sounds were the whisper of leaves shifting in the breeze and the distant murmur of a stream winding through the darkness.

He had only meant to scout ahead to get a lay of the land. But then he’d heard voices. Low, gruff, unmistakable. Fire Nation soldiers.

Sokka’s pulse quickened as he crept forward, slipping between the shadows. He kept low, his fingers hovering near the curve of his boomerang. Just ahead, beyond the thick tangle of brush, a small clearing opened up, lit by the flickering glow of a campfire. The soldiers stood in a loose circle, their crimson armor reflecting the flames. Their voices carried, discussing something in tones too low to decipher.

Unease coiled in his gut. He knew better than to charge in blindly; he had to warn the others. He turned on his heel, keeping his movements controlled as he slipped back the way he came.

Snap!

A sharp crack echoed through the still night as his foot landed on a brittle branch. Every muscle in his body went rigid.

"Hey, did you hear that?" one of the soldiers muttered, his voice cutting through the quiet.

Sokka didn’t wait to hear more. He bolted.

The underbrush lashed at his arms as he weaved through the trees, each step fueled by adrenaline. The soldiers’ shouts rose behind him, their pursuit a chorus of snapping twigs and pounding footsteps. Fire lit the darkness; blasts of searing heat that tore past him, illuminating his path in bursts of molten orange. The acrid scent of scorched bark filled his nose as he pushed himself faster, his breath ragged, his limbs burning.

He could feel them gaining ground.

Suddenly, a root caught his ankle, and the world spun. He hit the ground hard, pain exploding across his side as the air fled his lungs. Leaves and dirt scattered around him. Before he could scramble upright, hands seized him, rough and unyielding. Fingers dug into his arms, yanking him to his feet.

“Gotcha,” a voice sneered, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down Sokka’s spine.

Sokka thrashed, his heart hammering against his ribs. He twisted, kicked, fought with every ounce of strength he had left. But it wasn’t enough. More hands joined in, securing his wrists, wrenching away his boomerang. An ache settled in his chest as it was torn from his belt, leaving him truly defenseless.

They dragged him back to their camp, shoving him against the base of a thick tree. Shackles clinked as they secured his wrists above his head, locking them into a metal loop embedded in the bark. A second chain coiled around his torso, pressing him flush against the rough surface. Finally, his ankles were shackled together, ensuring he couldn’t kick or escape.

He tested the restraints, his jaw tightening as he realized just how secure they were. He lifted his gaze to the soldiers, forcing himself to keep his expression defiant, refusing to let them see the unease creeping into his chest.

A soldier crouched in front of him, studying him with a lazy sort of amusement. "You're not a bender."

Sokka glared. "I could’ve told you that."

The soldier smirked. "Yeah, but you could be lying."

A flicker of unease settled in Sokka’s stomach.

Another soldier rolled a small flame between his fingers. "We could put a bit of heat on him," he mused. "See if he changes his tune."

"Torture’s exhausting," another groaned. "All the screaming, the mess... There's got to be a better way."

The first soldier scoffed. "Like what?"

The second shrugged. "Dunno. Just something."

A third soldier sighed, stepping closer. "While you two argue, I’m going to check our little prisoner. Make sure he doesn’t have any hidden surprises."

Sokka tensed as the man crouched beside him. Rough hands patted down his arms, across his chest, then lower. His skin twitched as fingers skimmed his ribs, and despite himself, he flinched.

The soldier’s eyes narrowed. "Quit squirming," he growled.

Sokka clenched his jaw, willing his muscles to cooperate, but the moment those calloused fingers grazed his sides again, his control shattered. A sharp inhale hitched in his throat, followed by an involuntary chuckle that escaped before he could stop it. The sound cut through the camp like a knife, drawing every soldier's attention, their conversations falling silent as all eyes turned toward him.

The soldier's hands stilled, his head tilting with confused interest. "What's so funny?"

"N-nothing!" Sokka clamped his mouth shut, shaking his head frantically. "Sorry! I just—uh, laugh sometimes when I get nervous."

A low chuckle from a few feet away made the hairs on Sokka's neck stand on end.

The soldier who had complained about torture stretched lazily. "I think," he said, stepping closer, "our little Water Tribe prisoner here is ticklish." A slow, mischievous smirk spread across his face. "And I think I just figured out how to interrogate him without the mess."

Sokka’s stomach dropped. His eyes widened.

He swallowed hard. "Oh no."

The soldier's grin widened as he cracked his knuckles.

"Oh, yes."

Chapter Text

The fire crackled in the still night, casting shifting shadows across Sokka’s face as the soldiers closed in. His wrists strained against the metal loop above his head that left him unable to defend himself. His mind scrambled for a plan, a retort, anything to turn this situation in his favor, but the dread settling in his gut made it difficult to think past the rising panic.

The soldier who had discovered his unfortunate weakness crouched again, amusement dancing in his eyes. "So, you laugh when you're nervous, huh?" He reached out, fingers hovering just over Sokka's ribs. "Let’s see just how nervous you are."

Sokka tensed, pressing his back harder against the tree in a desperate attempt to shrink away. "Look, guys, this is—"

Fingers suddenly wiggled with purpose against his ribs, and a jolt of sensation shot through him like lightning. Sokka jerked violently, his entire body going rigid before a burst of laughter exploded from his throat. "Gah—haha! W-wait! Nohohoho!"

The soldier’s grin widened. "Bingo."

He dug his fingers in deeper, squeezing along Sokka’s ribs mercilessly. The trapped warrior thrashed, bucking against the restraints as laughter poured from his lips, helpless and wild. His entire body twisted, instinct screaming at him to get away, but the chains held firm, leaving him utterly exposed.

"Wow," another soldier chuckled, arms crossed as he watched. "Didn’t think this would actually work."

"Me neither," the first one admitted, still grinning as his fingers skittered higher, probing between Sokka’s ribs. "But this? This is way more fun than burning him."

Sokka threw his head back, laughter tumbling out in frantic bursts. "HAHA! Stohohop! You cahan’t—HAHA!—this is sohoho stupid!" His cheeks burned with humiliation, but that did nothing to stop the sensation wreaking havoc on his nerves.

"Stupid?" The soldier's fingers kneaded slow and methodical, until he found a particularly sensitive spot just beneath Sokka's underarms. A wicked grin spread across his face as he pressed into it, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles.

Sokka jolted violently, a sharp yelp escaping before he dissolved into frantic laughter. "NAHAHA! NOT THEHEHEHERE!"

"Oh?" The soldier’s grin widened. "Looks like I found a good spot." He doubled down, working his fingers into the spot mercilessly. "I don’t know, this seems pretty effective to me."

Sokka gasped for air between forced peals of laughter, struggling to form words. "I—HAHA!—I WOHOHON’T TALK! THIHIHIS WON’T—GAHAHA!—GET YOU ANYTHIHING!"

At that, the soldier finally relented, pulling his hands back with a smirk. Sokka sagged against the tree, his chest heaving, residual laughter still hitching in his breath. His body twitched involuntarily, muscles tingling from the relentless assault.

The second soldier hummed thoughtfully. "Oh, I don’t know about that. You’re already giving us a lot." He gestured to Sokka’s wrecked composure; his flushed face, trembling arms, and the way he still flinched even though no one was touching him. "For one thing, we now know you’ve got no way to fight back. No bending, no tricks; just an unfortunate little weakness."

Sokka gritted his teeth, forcing himself to steady his breath. He had to hold out, had to endure. This was ridiculous, if he let them break him with something so childish, he'd never live it down.

Unfortunately, the soldiers weren’t done.

"Wonder where else he's ticklish?" one mused.

"Nohohoho!" Sokka burst out, shaking his head frantically. "Don’t even—!"

A new pair of hands latched onto his waist, squeezing experimentally.

"GAHAHA! NOHOHO!" Sokka nearly lifted off the ground, his whole body wracked with uncontrollable spasms. His laughter turned breathless, his struggles frantic as fingers dug into his sides, kneading in unpredictable patterns. The worst part was that they weren’t even torturing him in the usual way; there was no sharp pain, no unbearable heat. Just unbearable sensation, something his body couldn’t resist, no matter how much he willed it to.

"Wow, you’re really ticklish, aren’t you?" one of them mused, clearly enjoying himself.

Sokka could barely summon a glare through his teary eyes. "I—PFFTHAHA—SWEAR, WHEHEN I GET OHOHOUT OF THIHIHIS—!"

"Oh, sure," the first soldier teased. "And how exactly are you getting out?"

Sokka had no answer.

The tickling continued, hands shifting to squeeze at his hips, then skittering up under his arms. Sokka screamed with laughter, thrashing as best as he could, his body betraying him at every turn. His muscles burned from struggling, but the soldiers knew exactly where to strike, keeping him at their mercy with each deliberate touch.

Minutes passed like an eternity. His breath came in ragged bursts, his limbs twitching even in the brief moments they relented.

The leader finally straightened, rubbing his chin in mock contemplation. "Alright, let’s make this easy. You tell us what you were doing out here, and we might let you catch your breath."

Sokka’s head lolled against the tree. He sucked in deep, desperate gulps of air, his whole body still trembling from residual laughter. He was exhausted, his sides aching, his dignity in tatters; but even through it all, he refused to break.

With great effort, he lifted his head, staring the soldier dead in the eyes. Then, despite everything, he smirked.

"Nice try," he rasped, "but you’re gonna have to do way better than that."

The leader’s smirk twitched.

Behind him, the soldier who had complained about torture chuckled, flexing his fingers before cracking his knuckles again.

The leader exhaled slowly, as if savoring the challenge. "Alright," he sighed, eyes glinting with amusement. "Have it your way."

The laughter returned, wild and uncontrollable, echoing deep into the forest.

Chapter Text

They zeroed in on his armpits and ribs, drawing out his loudest, most desperate laughter.

"HAHAHAHA! PLEAHEHESE!" Sokka howled, his thrashing useless against the tree.

"I think we'll just focus right here for a bit," one of the soldiers said with a smirk, fingers mercilessly digging into the sensitive hollows of Sokka's underarms.

Sokka thought he might lose his mind. His body jerked involuntarily, his laughter turning hoarse as the relentless tickling continued. His thoughts dissolved into incoherent desperation, a single plea dominating his mind: make it stop.

Then, suddenly, a voice rang out:

"My cabbages!"

The familiar, despairing wail pierced through the clearing, cutting through Sokka’s hysteria like a blade. The soldiers froze, their hands poised mid-tickle, heads snapping toward the source of the interruption.

Emerging from the shadows was a middle-aged man pushing a cart stacked high with leafy green cabbages. His expression was one of profound, long-suffering misery. "I can’t go anywhere without someone destroying my cabbages! Just once, I’d like a disaster-free day!"

The soldiers exchanged glances before stepping away from Sokka.

"Hey, old man," one of them called, scratching his chin. "You selling?"

The merchant’s face transformed from despair to opportunity. "Am I selling?" He gestured grandly to his cart. "These are the finest cabbages in the Earth Kingdom! Crisp, fresh, and, at the moment, completely intact!"

As the soldiers began haggling over cabbages, Sokka sagged against the tree, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His body still tingled from the tickling, but he was grateful for the distraction.

Then his foot itched.

It was a mild irritation, but after everything he’d endured, it felt unbearable. He wriggled his boot against the ground to no avail. Gritting his teeth, he twisted his ankle until the boot slid off. Cool air rushed over his bare foot as he rubbed furiously against the dirt.

That’s when he spotted it: a thin, sturdy-looking stick lying just inches away.

His mind whirred into action. Thanking his long toes, Sokka managed to grip the stick and carefully maneuver it upward. Sweat beaded on his brow as he aimed the stick toward the pin holding his shackles. It took several tries, each failed attempt ramping up his frustration, but finally, with a satisfying click, the pin popped free.

Biting back a triumphant laugh, Sokka quickly unshackled his other wrist and worked on the chain around his torso. Soon, he freed his ankles and stood on wobbly legs. Grabbing his boot, he slipped it on and reached for his boomerang, snatching it up with a sense of relief as the weapon’s familiar curve met his grip.

The soldiers remained preoccupied with the cabbage merchant.

Sokka didn’t waste the opportunity. He slipped into the forest, his steps swift and silent as he put as much distance between himself and the camp as possible.

A hundred yards. Then two.

Suddenly, a voice shouted, "The prisoner’s escaped!"

Sokka’s stomach dropped. He picked up speed, branches snapping beneath his feet. Just as he was about to sprint full-out—

"My friend!"

Sokka froze, his eyes going impossibly wide.

Standing in the middle of the forest path ahead of him, cart intact, was the cabbage merchant.

Sokka stared, dumbfounded. "Wh—How—You were just—" He gestured wildly back toward the camp. "How are you here?"

The merchant beamed. "Cabbage sales require efficiency!" He held up a particularly plump cabbage. "Would you like to buy one?"

Sokka sputtered, mind reeling. Then, behind him, the shouts of the soldiers grew louder.

"Gotta go!" he yelped, grabbing the cabbage on impulse and veering off the path. A fireball blasted past him, striking the cart behind him.

"MY CABBAGES!"

The merchant’s wail echoed through the forest as Sokka tore through the trees, clutching the cabbage like a lifeline.

He didn’t look back.

Sokka crashed through the treeline, breath ragged and chest heaving. His limbs burned from exertion, but there was no time to slow down.

Aang, Katara, and Toph sat around the fire, their heads snapping up at the sudden intrusion.

"Sokka?" Katara shot to her feet, frowning. "Where have you been? You were gone so long we were about to go looking for you!"

"No time!" Sokka gasped, waving a frantic hand. "We gotta move! Now!"

Toph tilted her head. "Why do you smell like singed wood?"

"And… is that a cabbage?" Aang asked, blinking at the vegetable in Sokka’s grip.

Sokka barely glanced at it. "Not important! Fire Nation soldiers, chasing me, coming this way!"

That got them moving. Katara grabbed her waterskin, Aang stood with his staff in hand, and Toph stomped her foot, sensing for vibrations.

"How many?" Katara demanded.

"Enough that I don’t wanna stick around and count!" Sokka yanked his sleeping roll up, shoving supplies into his pack. "Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!"

Toph smirked. "What’d you do, trip into their camp?"

Sokka stiffened. "I—" He stopped, scowled, then deflected. "Less questioning, more running!"

The group scrambled onto Appa, Sokka clutching the cabbage like a trophy.

As they settled in, a fireball blasted through the trees. Katara deflected it with a water whip while Toph raised an earth wall to block their pursuers.

"Yip yip!" Aang called, and Appa leapt into the air, soaring above the forest.

Only when they were safely in the night sky did Sokka relax his grip on the cabbage. His muscles still twitched from the ordeal, and phantom tickles lingered along his sides.

Katara eyed him suspiciously. "Now will you tell us what happened?"

Sokka let out a long, weary sigh, staring at the cabbage in his hands like it carried the weight of his suffering. "Let’s just say it’s been a long night."

Toph smirked. "And yet, somehow, you made it out with a snack."

Sokka ignored her, holding the cabbage up solemnly. "This cabbage and I have been through the fire together. Literally."

Aang raised an eyebrow. "So… what are you gonna do with it?"

Sokka didn’t hesitate. He took a huge, dramatic bite, crunching into the cabbage like it was the greatest prize of his life.

"Mm. Delicious." He chewed with exaggerated satisfaction. "Crisp. Juicy. A perfect balance of flavor."

Below, a distant, anguished wail echoed into the night. "MY CABBAGES!"

Sokka paused mid-chew, eyes narrowing at the sky. Then, with a deep sigh, he swallowed. "Yeah. Figures."

The group burst into laughter as Appa soared higher, leaving behind one very unfortunate merchant and the chaos of the night.

THE END