MAN, I haven't written in a long time. But then LoK happened and I got back into A:TLA and woops, here we are. I'm just drowning in headcanons, so we'll start with Sokka+Suki and then perhaps move on...to Zutara? I'll keep writing if I get some reviews :)

He asks her to marry him exactly one day after the Comet passes.

The massive air ship continues chugging slowly back towards the Fire Nation capital, chasing the red glow of the Comet's departure back along the horizon, and he's lying on the floor of the cockpit while she rips strips of cloth from a soldier's cowl to bind his throbbing knee. A shadow passes over the ruined consoles as Aang glides by outside, restlessly looping them on their slow trek southwest. Toph snores in the corner, nested in a pile of spare infantry uniforms, her black hair fluttering with every breath; she looks small, sweet, like such a child…never mind that hours ago he saw her roll herself in sheets of cold metal like an ostrich-colt rolls in mud, never mind that she just brought down an entire fleet of deadly war balloons, never mind that she just won a war.

They all just won a war.

"Okay, just hold on a sec," Suki whispers, and suddenly her hands are on him, strong hands, trusted hands, dreams with fingers—and then there's a crunch and he shrieks.

"YEOW!"

"Sokka, shhh!"

"How about a little warning next time, woman?!" he squeaks, rapidly blinking back tears as Suki sets the leg, splinting it against a metal bar and tying the cloth with deft, sure knots. "I'm a person, okay, not a lame ox-rooster!"

"Well, you sure squawk like one," she mutters, yanking the bindings one last time. Sokka wants to respond, he really does, but he's too busy whimpering.

Suki rolls her eyes and strokes his face, her thumb swiping beads of sweat and streaks of soot off of his temple. Her other hand finds his and laces their fingers together, her pale skin cast against his dusky brown. Her knuckles are rough, chapped, little scars criss-crossing the backs; her hands have been through so much. He wishes he could have protected them.

"There," she murmurs. "All better?"

"Kinda…"

A kiss. Soft, slow, and the world goes away.

"Now?"

"Definitely better."

She rolls her eyes again, but she's smiling, just like she was when he saw her sail in on a war balloon, back from a fiery sky of oblivion, back from forever, back to him. That smile defies everything he's ever believed, it always has, and now he reaches out and pulls that smile, along with the rest of her, right up against him, ignoring her protests about his leg and how he should be careful, it needs to set, and he presses his face into her neck and kisses the underside of her jaw and just tries to let that smile convince him, down in the deep parts of himself, that this thing is over for good.

Time passes. Her breathing is slow in his ear, and her arms are loose around his shoulders. His leg is killing him, but the pain is dull, not so urgent anymore, and he gets past it by recalling the sensation of Katara's super-wonder-healing-whatever, that thing she does where it makes his ears ring and then the cut or the bruise or the lump goes away. She's healed worse than this, she'll be able to sort him out…that is, if she and Zuko survived Azula…

Sokka's hand tightens on Suki's shoulder. Katara is alive. Zuko is alive. C'mon, they're pros, they took Azula down. We would know if they hadn't. And even if they didn't…the Fire Lord is powerless and chicken-hog-tied with his tongue hanging out in the hold. Aang will definitely be able to take Azula. Relax, Sokka. Get some sleep.

But the rumbling of the empty airship, the image of crackling blue fire in his head, and the dark-brown ache in his leg aren't exactly sending him off to dreamland, and it doesn't take long for Sokka to wake Suki up with his restless shifting and grunting. She lifts her head away from the crook of his neck and rubs her eyes, strands of rusty-red hair waving in a frizzy mass around her fingers.

" 'verything okay?" she mumbles. Sokka winces as she stretches and cracks about eight joints at once.

"Yeah, yeah, it's all good…sorry I woke you up." She shrugs, glancing over at Toph in the corner.

"Man, she can sleep through anything."

"Trust me, that's a choice," Sokka says with a snort. "I tried to cook tiger-beef like, fifty feet away from her once and she woke up just to rob me blind. Blind-er. Oh, also don't attack her or anything."

"Yeah, I got that a while ago." Suki gets to her feet and moves to the cracked cockpit windows, peering out into the dying light. Now that the Comet has passed away from the planet, the clouds are no longer blood-red, but even now, in the late evening, they are still tinged a light pink. Sokka sees a shadow pass over the starboard side, and Suki's head swivels as she catches it too.

"He's still out there…" she says softly, and Sokka sees one hand rise, as though to follow Aang's path through the rosy night. "Think he's okay?

"Eh, he will be," he says with a sigh. "He got what he wanted, right? Aang got his magic Avatar hoo-ha working again, the Fire Lord is down for the count, and everyone's still alive and drooling. I mean, if he's not okay, then I'm just out of ideas at this point, y'know?"

"I guess so," she says, smiling, and then she's on her knees beside him again. Her hands move over his leg, and wow does it hurt, but wow does he wish she would never stop touching him. "How bad's it hurt?"

"You kidding?" he says through clenched teeth. "This is nothin'. Water Tribe men are warriors, we eat broken legs for breakfast."

"Spirits above, Sokka, if you start giving me this 'warrior men' crap again—"

"Hey, I'm not saying you're not a warrior!"

"Good, because I'm the warrior who just saved your Water Tribe butt, by the way. You're welcome for that."

"I had everything under control, during the execution of my plan, which went perfectly, you're welcome for that—OW!"

"Woopsie! My hands slipped, sorry."

"You'll pay for that."

"Excuse me, you still haven't paid off a certain 'dance lesson,' mister, and by the way, Koko called, she wants her underskirt back."

"I don't still have it!"

"Yeah, but you got seal jerky grease all over it, nobody could stand the smell."

He laughs, and she laughs, and his hand is tangled in her hair, and then he says, "Are you going to marry me?"

Outside, the sky is pink. A shadow—Aang, silent, gliding smooth as a living cloud—passes. The airship is humming beneath them, and Sokka doesn't know how long the moment goes on, how long her eyes meet his, how long that rough, warm, strong hand is resting there on his tender leg, how long it takes for something different than before, something new, to begin right there in front of him.

And then she smiles again, and he believes.