This got stuck in my head and demanded to be written. I know I'll probably keep going with it so I'm tentatively saying that it's going to be done as a series of drabbles and one-shots, not proper story format. All of the chapters will take place in this universe and for the most part they'll say something about Sokka's relationship with Zuko the mysterious stranger and the Blue Spirit as he tries to prove that they're the same person. We'll see what I do with it. I don't even know. I just thought western Zukka would be fun.

I don't own ATLA or anything related to it.

Sokka was tired and not in a way that could be remedied with a good night's sleep, though he could sorely use one of those as well. He was bone-weary, exhausted, barely making it through the day. All he wanted was to protect Avatar, his tiny frontier-town and preserve the lives of the men and women that lived there, like he'd sworn to do when he'd first donned the five pointed star that hung ever present from his worn and faded blue vest.

He loved his town and he knew it was his responsibility to protect it but things had really started to go downhill since his father left to do his part to stop the government's westward expansion, giving him more than just his little sister to take care of.

He didn't have much of an opinion regarding this war that the government had, not quite openly, declared on the natives. To be honest, he didn't mind them as long as they didn't jeopardize the town, his town. He had a live and let live policy. The natives knew they could trust him and in turn things remained peaceful... for the most part.

He sighed as he stood from his desk, surveying the dusty main road that lay just beyond his open door. Dusk was falling over the land and soon Old Man Iroh's saloon, The Jasmine Dragon, would be filling up and drunken brawls would be sure to follow. If this were all he had to worry about, drunks and gamblers, horse thieves and whores, he didn't think he'd be so tired but the unofficial war over the land was putting pressure on his little town that couldn't be relieved by one solitary lawman.

He was but one straight arrow in a bushel of broken shafts.

Mentally he planned his night, counting the rounds he would have to make before he could finally retire to his little house and the half full bottle of whiskey that was sitting on the table in his non-existent kitchen nook, waiting for him.

"Come on, Sheriff. Let me out. It wasn't me this time, I swear!" The pleading shout resounded behind him as he moved towards the exit, bouncing off of the metal bars that sealed off the cells. Sokka turned, wearily, and regarded the outlaw he'd arrested and detained the night before.

"I know damn well it was you, Jet. It's always you."

The man was long and lanky, all sinew and muscle beneath his dusty gray shirt and patched up black pants. There was a manipulative smile gracing his ruggedly handsome face that accented the constant calculating look in his sparkling black eyes. A mop of brown hair was just visible beneath an old black hat, tipped low in the front and only adding to the dangerous appeal that the young man exuded.

Sokka was not put on by Jet's charisma but he was well aware just how many people in the town were.

"I've been in here a whole day already. Ty Lee'll be missing me."

"Ty Lee'll keep busy." Sokka reassured him confidently. He'd see for himself in just a bit how true he knew his words were. Aunt Wu's girls were never left wanting for clients and he knew all too well that Ty Lee wasn't one to play favorites.

"I'm telling you, Sheriff, me and the freedom fighters are goin' straight. It was that damned Blue Spirit!"

Sokka slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand and grimaced. "Do not call him that. He ain't no goddamned Robin Hood. He's just another pain in my ass bandit like you. 'Sbad enough he's plaguing my town, I ain't having him turn into a legend too."

Jet and his self named "freedom fighters" had been more than a nuisance to Sokka for long enough. Pair them with the day to day problems he had to deal with and that'd be more than enough for any one man. Too bad for Sokka they didn't make up half of his problems.

He had an uneasy alliance with the neighboring natives, the militaristic Kyoshi, but it was fragile and he knew how easily it could crumble under the building pressure from the government's constant westward expansion. The entire thing was only further complicated by the odd sort of relationship he seemed to have with their leader, Suki. To be honest, he wasn't sure what it was and he wasn't all that eager to define it.

He'd kissed her once, thrilled by her strength and independence. When he'd traveled to the bustling port city of Ba Sing Se, a long time ago, he'd been put off by the delicate airs that the women there had put on. They had all been so weak and breathy and prone to fainting spells. Plainly it had annoyed him. He'd grown up on the frontier where women didn't have the luxury of such pansy assed decorum. Frontier women were willful and sturdy and more often than not, they called the shots.

Sokka was not a man who shied away from a woman who could handle herself but he wasn't eager to get too involved with a native warrior. Sokka was nothing if not practical and practicality told him that romance would only strain the already weak relations, not strengthen them, no matter how intriguing and impressive that woman might be.

His open mind regarding the natives didn't exactly extend to his little sister though. Her sudden decision to take up with the last surviving member of the Air Nomads, had near pushed him over the edge. Sokka didn't agree with the way that the government had dealt with the predominantly peaceful tribes but there wasn't anything he could do about it. Feeling sorry for the kid had been his first mistake. Knowing full well that he was wanted, Sokka'd let him stay on in the town, turning a blind eye to the kid's more than obvious presence.

The kid was already becoming a legend across the country and Sokka knew just how much trouble he could get in for harboring him, but his biggest character flaw prevented him from turning the poor kid in or turning him out. He was just too damned nice, sometimes. Not that he wouldn't draw his pistol in a flash to defend himself or his town, but it didn't mean that he wanted to.

When he'd let the kid stay, Aang... Katara kept telling him to use the kid's name and, well, he loved her so he'd promised he'd try. When he'd let Aang stay he hadn't expected his sister to jump on his cause so avidly. He should have though. He'd always known Katara had a bleeding heart. This exhaustion was making him slow and unprepared. He didn't like that.

The kid was nice enough and, he had to admit, a pretty entertaining little fellow but there was a huge black cloud following him around and Sokka didn't want his little sister being shadowed by that black cloud too.

As if all of that weren't enough, the universe had decided to drop this damned Blue Spirit into his lap on top of everything and so far he hadn't managed to pin one thing on the guy, let alone see him. Not that he wasn't completely sure who this masked pain in his ass was, because he may not have had too much of a formal education but he had more than enough natural intelligence to figure it out. His only problem was that he had no way to prove it. He would though, he'd promised himself that much. The idea of having Old Man Iroh's nephew locked away where Jet stood now had sent a pleasurable tingle down his spine and through his nethers on more than one occasion, not that he'd ever admit that to anyone.

"You're really jus goin' to leave me in here all night? I'm telling you it wasn't me. I saw that demon with my own eyes. You gotta believe me."

Sokka narrowed his eyes at the rogue and crossed his arms over his chest. He wanted to let bandit out. Jet was a petty outlaw and the crime he'd committed this time hadn't even been that bad, drunkenly "liberating" a few of the Bei Fong's horses and taking them on a joyride down Main Street. But the Bei Fongs were the wealthiest family in the town, they practically owned Avatar, and he knew it wouldn't do to let any crime against them go unpunished.

He didn't have the guts to tell them just how much trouble their precious, blind daughter caused when they weren't paying attention.

"You're staying in there for another night, Jet. One way or another you're goin' to learn your lesson."

"You're a hard man, Sheriff." Jet spoke with resignation but the mischievous glint in his eyes was still there. Sokka knew he would let him out in the morning and he'd be back in that exact same cell by the following night. The lawman threw back his shoulders and gave the outlaw a look that was supposed to tell him that he wasn't playing games. He turned back towards the door and palmed the crown of his Stetson, flipping it onto his head with one fluid motion. He hooked the cell keys onto his belt and took one step towards the door before he stopped, curiosity getting the better of him.

He didn't want his desire to pin something on the dark, scarred nephew of the amiable saloon owner to be obvious but the stranger wouldn't come near him and so far he hadn't done anything that screamed wanted outlaw. It couldn't hurt to ask around, just a bit.

"Whaddaya know about Old Man Iroh's nephew, Jet?"

Jet looked at him quizzically, trademark smirk still in place but not conveying any meaning. He pulled a wrinkled cigarette out of his pocket and popped it between his lips, looking at Sokka expectantly. The lawman sighed and pulled a box of matches from his own pocket. He strode forward and struck a flame, holding it to the end of the bandit's rolled tobacco until it glowed red.

Jet took a long drag while he assessed the sun kissed sheriff before finally answering the question.

"I'll admit not much. Tried to get him to join the Freedom Fighters when he first showed up in town but he turned me down flat. Seems like a shady character to me though." He nodded as if contemplating his words, "somethins definitely off about him."

"Coming from you, that's not saying much."

Jet only shrugged and deepened his smirk. "I think he's got somethin goin on with Mai..." Sokka felt an inexplicable pang of something like jealousy in his gut but immediately dismissed it. "I don't think it's too serious though. You said it yourself... those girls keep busy."

"I'm not interested in his love life," oh but he was, "give me something about his history. I've got no story on this guy, no background."

"Make you uncomfortable to have someone in this town not under your thumb, Sheriff?"

Jet looked smug and it was all Sokka could do to keep his pistol holstered. He wouldn't shoot the outlaw, just point it at him and wave it around a bit, remind him who was in jail and who put him there.

"Ain't no one in this town under my thumb, Jet. I'm just trying to keep this place together and keep people alive, even worthless pieces of shit like you."

The outlaw feigned hurt at the insult but couldn't stop a snicker from escaping his lips. Sokka growled in frustration and snatched the half smoked cigarette from Jet's mouth, throwing it to the ground and crushing it beneath his boot before making his way out of the jail.

"See you tomorrow, Sheriff!"

He eyed the swinging doors that marked the entrance to the saloon with trepidation. He needed to go in, remind the patrons that he was there. It was a small town with a dutiful Sheriff who may let a lot of things slide but not everything and sometimes it just took his presence to tell them that.

The fact that Old Man Iroh's nephew had begun tending bar when he'd come to town had nothing to do with it, he told himself, not for the first time. He never drank heavily at the saloon, preferring instead to savor the taste of his personal bottle of whiskey alone in his own house when his work was finally done.

The badge had done a number on him. He could see that. There was no denying that he was lonely and those nights when he sat in the lamplight with nothing but his own company and the sweet burn of the liquor as it crawled down his throat, he missed his younger days before he'd taken up the star, when he could enjoy a shot or two and swindle more than a few old men at poker.

Barely twenty four and already an old man. The universe had something against him.

He braced himself for the cacophony of sound and action that awaited him. He'd go in, have an ale, flirt with Ty Lee a bit to remind him of the old days and he'd ultimately go home alone, drink himself into a stupor and then lay awake, thinking of the strange man who'd moved into his town, touching himself and wondering.

The old man only barely startled him when he called out a greeting before the doors had even swung shut behind him.

"Sheriff! So good to have you in my humble establishment. Please, have a beer on the house. Zuko!"

Sokka opened his mouth to protest, well to at least pretend to protest because his Gran Gran had ironed the basics of general manners into him and some had even stuck, but Iroh didn't allow him to get even a breath out before he was calling over his shoulder to a pale man with a dark mop of black hair that brushed the crisp collar of his crimson shirt and obscured half of his face. Sokka felt his stomach do a somersault that he promptly ignored when the young man looked up and scowled.

He would have been strikingly handsome were it not for the large scar, a permanent remnant of some unfortunate event in the man's past, that covered his left eye and marred the corresponding ear. Sokka did his best to strut across the sawdust covered floor, rather than trudge awkwardly, towards the bar.

The dark man scowled at him the entire way, exotic yellow eyes were narrowed into thin angry slits that Sokka almost swore could burn him.

"What'll it be?" He forced out when the lawman took a seat, his voice rough with either anger or disuse.

"I uh... ale, dark."

Sokka's job had sobered him from the outgoing, energetic and boisterous youth he had been but he still rarely found himself at a loss for words, this was an exception. The young bartender's obvious anger towards the lawman was unsettling to say the least.

He watched as the stranger... Zuko, he almost preferred the stranger, filled a frosted mug with coffee colored beer and slid it in front of him.

"Uncle says it's on the house."

"Thanks."

He thought the man would walk away and tend to the other patrons but as Sokka glanced around he realized it was early yet and the Jasmine Dragon Saloon was nowhere near capacity. His stomach somersaulted again when he looked back and realized that the stranger was still staring at him, hatred boiling in his golden eyes.

"I know what you think about me."

Sokka was startled but he did his best not to show it. He merely shrugged and nonchalantly took a swig of his beer.

"And what's that?"

He watched the young's pale calloused hands swipe a rag around the inside of a clean mug rather than meet his eyes. They were too intense and he knew they were going to haunt his dreams from now on.

"You think I'm dangerous."

"I don't think that necessarily. Don't know anything about you though. This is my town and I can't say I like having a secretive stranger living here."

"I don't want any trouble."

There was a hand that he could play here. It would be a risky move but if he could catch this guy off guard then it might be worth it to lay his cards on the table.

"Glad to hear it, stranger. Kind of unfortunate for you that this Blue Spirit fellow showed up and starting plaguing my town at the same time you arrived."

He waited, refusing to raise his eyes, for Zuko to react. The hand inside of the mug stilled for a moment so brief Sokka would have missed it if he hadn't been staring at it so intently.

"That's a coincidence."

"I'm sure it is." Sokka couldn't prevent a smug smile from twisting up the corners of his mouth as he finally allowed his gaze to rise and meet the stranger's fiery stare. He extended his hand to the man, determined to keep the situation neutral. "I'm Sokka, the sheriff, but I'm sure you knew that."

"Zuko." There was no additional clip of information, just a name and a pale hand in his.

"This Blue Spirit is a real pain in my ass, I gotta admit." He continued, reluctantly allowing his hand to drop. He had one more trick up his sleeve and he could only hope it would draw the scarred man out more.

"Really." It wasn't a question, really more of an uncaring automatic response. Apparently certain manners had been drilled into this guy too and hadn't stuck all that well either.

"No idea who he is though. He's one sneaky bastard." He searched the scarred face for any flicker of emotion, pride, nerves, anything... but the man's face stayed passive and almost bored. If Jet was right and this guy was shacking up with Mai on the side, theirs had to be an insanely boring relationship. This guy simmered like he could explode any second though and Sokka was willing to bet that he wouldn't be the type who could tolerate dating a saloon girl, even if Mai didn't get as many clients as Ty Lee.

Sokka had to admit that her knife throwing act, while impressive, was enough to have a man cowering, hands in front of him, protecting his more important parts.

"Hmm."

Sokka snorted impatiently into his beer. This ploy wasn't working. He may not get him tonight but he'd made a promise to himself to see that beautiful young man in one of his cells... or maybe in his bed. Really either would work.

"I'm beginning to think it might be worth it to offer a reward for information on him. He's wanted in other towns as well."

Still no visible response. Damn, just a shrug. The man didn't even seem interested. Then again, if he wasn't the Blue Spirit he would be interested in the reward. Any normal man would. It was just a bluff though. Unless the Bei Fongs would be willing to back him, he wasn't about to come up with any kind of substantial amount of money.

It was almost a relief when a group of men meandered over to the bar and loudly demanded Zuko's attention. Sokka wasn't getting anywhere and he was beginning to feel like an idiot. This guy was intense and it made the lawman fidget in a way that was completely uncharacteristic.

Despite his recent weariness, when it came to the ladies he was as smooth as ever. He could have Ty Lee swooning within minutes on a bad day and Suki... well Suki was complicated and maybe he wasn't exactly suave around her but it was definitely better than this. The stranger wasn't a lady though, something Sokka had to remind himself of often. Not that the stranger looked or behaved at all feminine, not even close, but the way Sokka felt when he thought about him... well it was usually a woman making him feel that way.

"Ooh Sheriff Sokka!" Speaking of the feminine devils. He glanced over his shoulder to see Ty Lee and Mai descending the stairs that, he knew from experience, led to a hallway of garishly decorated bedrooms.

Ty Lee flounced over to him, a wide smile plastered on her pretty features, layers of rose colored silk complimenting her fair skin.

"I've missed you so much! You never come to see me anymore!" She planted herself in his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, her skirt and petticoats hitching up her leg and exposing a good amount of her thigh.

Mai only offered him an uninterested sigh and leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her crimson corset.

"I am sorry about that Ty Lee. You know I've been busy."

"Oh! Is it the Blue Spirit? He's all anyone can talk about! Song said she caught a glimpse of him the other night and he was just the tastiest thing." She mock swooned and leaned back into Sokka's chest, forcing him to wrap his arms around her to keep her steady.

"She can't possibly know that, Ty Lee. He wears a mask." Mai interjected, apathy dripping from her voice.

"Oh don't be such a pain, Mai." She turned a flirtatious gaze on Sokka, batting her eyelashes and trailing a slender finger across his cheek. "I'm sure he's nothing compared to you though Sheriff. You know I love a man with a badge."

Oh yes. He knew.

It was at that point that Zuko chose to interrupt them. He indicated the empty mug when Sokka looked over and flushed. He wasn't sure how he felt about the mysterious young man seeing him with an armful of loose woman.

"Another?" He asked gruffly. Sokka contemplated it for a brief moment. He wanted to stay in the stranger's company. He wanted to be able to comfortably call him something other than the stranger. He had to admit that he also wouldn't mind the warm company of a naked and willing Ty Lee, also on the house. Sometimes it was good being the Sheriff.

He noticed the dark young man eye the bubbly girl with something akin to disgust and then shoot a contemptuous look at the young sheriff. It went straight to Sokka's groin and he was thankful for the pretty girl squirming in his lap. It wasn't right and it wasn't probable let alone possible but no one could begrudge him his private thoughts in the darkness of his own home.

He kept his mouth shut and shook his head no. He needed to go home and he needed that bottle of whiskey and soon. Zuko pursed his lips and took the mug, casting one last dirty look towards the whore in the sheriff's lap.

Ty Lee protested when Sokka slid her off of his lap, accentuating each whine with a giggle and a flirtatious touch. When he finally got her to let him go, by planting a promising open mouthed kiss on her pale pink lips, he was shaking with a long dormant excitement. He promised that once the Blue Spirit was caught he'd be back more often and he'd pay her more attention but he didn't think that was true. He'd be back but it wouldn't be for Ty Lee.

He'd sat and stared at his beloved bottle for a good half an hour before bringing himself to pour a shot which he promptly downed. He nearly moaned with pleasure at the burning sensation that coated his throat and inflamed his chest. The numbing effects of the whiskey kept him going, kept him from breaking down at night and from finding solace in the arms of any warm body that would have him.

He waited until his mind was comfortably foggy before sliding into bed, his aching bones sighing in contentment at finally getting to relax. He kept his pistol by the bed, loaded, but it was just a habit. Avatar was a small, friendly town, everyone knew everyone. No one would break into the sheriff's house in the night. That's not how things were done.

Or so he thought.

The whiskey didn't dull his senses entirely but there were no footsteps to be heard. The Blue Spirit moved as silently as a ghost. No one saw the Blue Spirit unless he wanted to be seen and on this night he wanted the sheriff of Avatar to see him.

Sokka felt a gloved hand cover his mouth and he immediately shot up in the bed, only to be forcefully pushed back down. A dark, lithe form slid on top of him and sat across his hips, straddling him. The lawman's ice blue eyes widened at the leering, demonic face that was staring down at him. It was comical and frightening at the same time and he felt a sudden desperate urge to get away.

He'd seen artistic renderings of the masked bandit but they were nothing compared to the real thing. Sokka grabbed the bandit's arms and bucked his hips in an attempt to dislodge the black-clad body but the bandit held him down and met the lawman's accidental thrust with one of his own. A delicious thrill shot through Sokka's groin and up his spine. He moaned unwillingly and arched his back, digging his nails into the skin beneath the black silk.

The Spirit leered at him all the while.

The Blue Spirit took his hand away from the lawman's mouth trusting that he wouldn't protest and leaned forward so that his body was parallel to Sokka's, his knees digging into the bedding on either side of tan hips, obscured by the thin white cotton top sheet. The lawman's erection was obvious despite that and Sokka didn't know, but the grin on the pale face beneath the blue mask could have rivaled the demonic leer.

The Spirit quickly shook Sokka's grip on his arms and while the man was still distracted, gathered the surprisingly slim wrists in one hand which he proceeded to plant firmly above the lawman's head. The other hand disappeared briefly beneath the mask and Sokka watched, mesmerized, as it reappeared slowly and gloveless. He licked his lips as he watched the calloused and nearly translucently pale hand reached between the two bodies and underneath the flimsy top sheet.

Sokka only had split second to register that he recognized that hand before it was wrapped around his shaft and he was panting like a dog. The hand was warm, almost unnaturally so, and surprisingly soft like it's owner hadn't always been a road weary traveler whose last chance was bartending in his uncle's saloon in a tiny frontier town.

But Sokka didn't know that for a fact. He couldn't tell this man's identity just by a hand. A dominating facial scar maybe, but not a hand.

The hand tightened around the base of his shaft and slowly moved upwards, ripping a sudden gasp from the young sheriff's lungs. This was nothing like when he did it to himself, nothing like when he'd drunkenly followed Ty Lee's lace covered ass up the stairs and let her do it to him with her pretty slender fingers.

This was intense, and strong, and wrong on so many levels.

He was the sheriff and he was letting an outlaw that he couldn't catch jack him off in his own home because he thought it might be a pale stranger he knew equally little about. There would be guilt when he slipped on his vest in the morning and polished the brass star that was supposed to represent everything he stood for, but he couldn't bring himself to think of that now. He could only think of the warm hand encircling his cock, stroking it up and down, bringing him to a more intense climax than any he'd had in a while.

He couldn't bite back his moans as a searing warmth began to pool in his belly and his hips began to buck of their own accord. A pale thumb brushed across the engorged tip of his dick, intensifying his pleasure as it smeared a good amount of pre-cum across his slit and down the rest of the shaft.

"Fuck, fuck!" He yelled with abandon as he came. The spirit curved his back and managed to avoid being sprayed with the white viscous liquid as the lawman convulsed. The warm, sticky fluid coated his naked stomach and chest and he reveled in it while he lay there panting, his eyes squeezed tightly closed.

He felt the Spirit's hand still moving, milking the last of his seed. He tentatively opened his eyes and regarded the bandit, suddenly unsure if he was actually awake. The pale hand reached up and stroked the muscled, tanned chest, drawing two fingers through the thick white puddle that had pooled there. He held the fingers up, the lawman's cum glistening in the moonlight that shone in through the window.

Sokka watched with fascination as the fingers disappeared beneath the mask and reappeared long seconds later, sucked clean. He closed his eyes for less than a second, to relish the image he had in his head of Old Man Iroh's nephew doing the same thing, but opened them again suddenly when he felt the pressure across his legs disappear. As quickly as he'd appeared the outlaw was suddenly gone, leaving behind a satisfied and more than slightly bewildered sheriff.

:)