Okay, weirdness ahead. I've never really liked Sokkla, but find the concept interesting. Please don't spear or flame me.
What If…Sokka was a Waterbending master and Azula was a princess without any bending?-:-Sokka/Azula-:-drabbles (finally!)-:-
On the Wire:
In hindsight, the only way a person can really look when faced with imminent death, Sokka really shouldn't have gotten so cocky.
The water he had pulled up from below their ship was swirling steadily around himself, as well as the attractive girl that was his opponent, half solid ice that slithered and rattled to strike out while the other half remained in its wholly liquid state, tranquil and friendly in the moonlight.
Firebenders are weakest at night, but he had not anticipated this girl not being a bender. Stupid.
Spots vs. Stripes:
Her giant zebra-gazelle strutted from one high ridge to another, Azula turned to the side to knock away the frozen needles and knives out of their destined path with her meteor sword. The Water Tribe boy shrieked outrageously—more like a girl than herself!—atop his even louder, thundering leopard-mare.
"Stand still, stand still, stand still!"
"Yeah, like I'm really going to do that, filthy peasant!"
This time she laughed merrily at the next onslaught of bitter shouting, he steed knickering at well when the mare tripped over its rider's ice.
Blood On the Moon:
"Well," Azula starts off, hesitant and unsure as her dainty feet maneuver around the blood splatter on the floor, some of it still oozing from Sokka's stomach, "I suppose now would be a bad time to take notice that you're actually rather cute."
"No…really…?" The teen hissed from his position on the floor, one hand clutching his stomach, trying to stop his blood and the one still splayed out on the floor trying to flip the Fire Nation princess off with little success.
Bruising:
She knows that she is not dead, but Azula is far from happy to be alive as she finds that she is without her clothes, her underwear and bra and chest to chest with her enemy. Her swords are nowhere to be found and Sokka is already awake and looking contemplative down at her.
"Good," he utters, quiet, not at all like himself, "You're awake."
When he closes his eyes, Azula is not exactly sure what he's playing at. At first she thinks he's preparing to really hurt her. She—they're both, completely naked, though, and she doesn't see any water nearby. In fact, the only thing nearby is a poorly breathing fire with a little kindling sitting next to it to be burned later.
When she sees that his grip around her is extremely loose, she tries to wiggle away. His skin against hers is not unpleasant, but since they are enemies, she can't enjoy it as much as she'd like.
She manages to free an arm, but then his head rocks forward, listless, and his forehead his pressing against hers, their noses touching.
He makes a little groan, not in anger, but what might be pain, and neither of them move. Well, she can't help but move her eyes anywhere but at him for a good five minutes, embarrassed, humiliated and totally freaked out. But, after the minutes pass and she finds that he is probably more or less asleep, her golden eyes look out the entrance to the small cave he had hauled them into, his and her blood mingling on the stone in little drops and becoming hidden in the leaves and other such vegetation that had already been there only to be strewn around by the pelt he had set down that they were lying on.
She finally notices that it was light out, the forest trees splaying the sun everywhere, and is struck with the realization that he was up all night keeping her warm.
Nothing happens for a few moments, until his chest lightly rises and his breath actually mingles with hers.