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Crossing the River

It took Sokka over two weeks to memorise the route from his wing to the main building. Those two weeks had consisted of a lot of getting lost and being late to everything, but everyone was surprisingly tolerant of his total lack of punctuality. Even Zuko only rolled his eyes and huffed when Sokka would burst into the dining room or meeting hall with a breathless sorry, sorry, got lost.

Speaking of Zuko - after that colossal success during the meeting on his second day, he'd dropped the plastic smiles. And even though it meant he was actually smiling at Sokka less now than before, it still felt like a step closer to real friendship. The impatient frowns and raised eyebrows felt a lot more familiar, and the uneasy tension of stranger-ness seemed to have vanished, too. He even addressed Sokka directly during conversations over meals.

Still. He rarely ever saw Zuko outside of the dining room or meetings, which was a problem Sokka decided to make his top priority to solve. More time spent together meant faster friendship. The only issue with this otherwise flawless plan was that no matter how hard Sokka searched, he could never, ever find the elusive prince.

What the hell could he possibly be doing all that time?

"Ah, and I win again!" Iroh exclaimed cheerfully, merrily collecting his pieces. "Would you like another game?"

Sokka scowled good-naturedly at the old man sitting across the low table. When you got to know him, it turned out the Sea Lord was a pretty cool guy - he didn't seem to care about the little things, like Sokka's punctuality problem. (Not his fault. The palace was a goddamn maze.) But below Iroh's sunny surface was one of the sharpest minds Sokka had ever had the good fortune to meet. What he lacked in physical fitness, he clearly made up for in mental aptitude; he'd just beaten Sokka at a mermaid game called Pai Sho three times in a row. And Sokka was great at strategy games. "No thanks. I don't think my ego can take any more."

The Sea Lord laughed. "You are a most formidable opponent, and quite the challenge to play against. You almost had me in the last game." Sokka was sure he was trying to coax him into another game, and he refused to be lured so shamelessly into another humiliating defeat.

Still, it was tempting…

"I am certain you could beat me if we played again," Iroh said with a meaningful smile, and it was just the push Sokka needed.

He narrowed his eyes. "Sure, okay. Just one more game."

Needless to say, he lost.

"Dammit!" he wailed, to Iroh's amusement. "Right, no more Pai Sho," he insisted vehemently. "Ever."

"Oh come now, Sokka," the Sea Lord teased lightly. "You will improve with practice. In fact, you show great skill – raw though it is – and you play surprisingly well for someone who only learned the rules three hours ago."

Sokka paused for a moment as the words sank in. He scowled in suspicion. This was sounding far too placating and flattering to be a simple compliment. Though yes, he was talented at strategic manoeuvring…

He gave his head a shake. There must be a reason why Iroh was sucking up to him so much this afternoon. In the admittedly short time Sokka had known him, he had usually been far more reserved with his praise.

"What - what are you after?" he asked slowly, his voice laced with hesitancy. Something in the Sea Lord's eyes was unnerving him.

Iroh paused, his expression catching with surprise, and then hummed a sigh of defeat. "It appears you are quite sharp. My nephew would not have caught on so quickly."

This immediately set off loud, piercing alarm bells in Sokka's brain.

"I would like you to do me a favour, Sokka. You are free to refuse, of course, but I feel this is also in your interest, as well as my nephew's."

"Zuko's?" Sokka blinked. This was about Zuko? What could he do - and why was Iroh asking for a favour in place of Zuko himself?

The Sea Lord nodded as he moved to clear away the board. "Forgive me for intruding, but one of the servants informed me yesterday that he saw you practising in the gardens."

Now Sokka was less suspicious and more confused. And slightly embarrassed that someone had actually seen him running through rough kata. He'd chosen that spot because he'd thought no one was around. "Um, yeah," he replied uncertainly, not sure where this was going. Actually, he wasn't sure if he liked any direction of conversation which required persuasion through flattery.

"He thought you were rather impressive, though of course I was not there to make a judgement myself. Are you skilled at hand-to-hand combat?" Iroh asked, his expression suggesting genuine interest.

Sokka shrugged awkwardly. "I guess so? I took a lot of karate classes when I was younger, so I guess I'm pretty good." What did his fighting ability have to do with Zuko?

Iroh considered him. "Have you trained with weapons?"

Uh, okay. This conversation was definitely taking an odd swerve now. "Er, no."

Iroh's expression was thoughtful as he packed away the playing pieces. "You are probably wondering why I'm asking. You see, Zuko has trained in various fighting styles, both with and without weapons. He is very dedicated, but, well... he is the only person in the palace to have done so. This kingdom has been peaceful for many years now, and most no longer bother to learn how to fight. I was quite the swordsman in my day, but that was rather a long time ago." Iroh chuckled. "I am not so young anymore. I'm afraid I can't keep up with my nephew during his training sessions. As such he has never had much opportunity to properly spar – to put his training to use against a real opponent."

Oh. So that's what this was about.

The Sea Lord smiled at Sokka. "I'm sure he would be pleased if you made time to spar with him."

Well, Sokka had never had any weaponry training – still, in hand-to-hand, he could hold his own reasonably well, and truthfully, he was interested in the sorts of weapons used by mermaids. Maybe sparring with Zuko would be a good idea. Plus, it gave him an excuse to approach him outside of meetings and mealtimes. "Sure," Sokka agreed with an easy shrug. "I'll ask him about it."

Iroh's smile morphed into a wide grin. "I'm sure he'd appreciate it."

An hour of restless thinking found Sokka staring intently at Zuko from behind a patch of dense foliage. How had he gotten himself into this awkward stalker-y moment? He hadn't meant to. He'd approached the large training courtyard to familiarise himself with it before asking Zuko to spar.

Unfortunately, Zuko had beaten him to it. He was moving smoothly across the court, slicing the water currents to smithereens with a shiny, jewel-encrusted sword in a series of twisty, fancy turns.

Now Sokka was caught in a predicament. Zuko was using a sword. (Apparently swords were a universal thing.) If he challenged the prince to a match without having even held a sword before, he was sure to lose immediately and humiliate himself. Sokka really wasn't a fan of humiliating himself, especially since he had quite a knack for it, and he'd already had his ass whipped at Pai Sho earlier that day.

Maybe he could instead ask Zuko for guidance, which would be a subtle way of involving himself in Zuko's practice session without actually doing any sparring. But then he'd be revealing his utter lack of ability, which would have the same embarrassing effect as launching straight into a match.

Sokka nearly gave up on the idea altogether, but to be honest, even if Iroh hadn't asked him to spar with Zuko, a part of Sokka sort of wanted to. Being constantly surrounded by so many magical people and things and events was getting tiring. It would be nice to just spar with normal, non-magical weapons, like normal people did. Even if the person he'd be sparring with was a merman.

As Sokka observed the graceful sweeps of the blade, he felt a surge of envy. That just wasn't fair. Sokka could fight, but he wasn't this good. He had other skills, like academics and video games, so it was only natural that he was weaker in other areas, like fighting. But Zuko seemed unfairly good at most everything Sokka had seen him do. (Sokka ignored the logical part of his brain which told him pretty much the only things he'd seen Zuko do were swordfight and get stranded on boats.) People's skill sets were balanced, because no one was perfect. That was just the way of the world.

But no, Zuko had to go and mess up the way of the world, didn't he?

"Are you going to stand there and watch me all day?"

Sokka jumped. He'd been spotted. Shit. Activate emergency improvisation mode. "I was just seeing if you were as good as your uncle said you were." He blinked in surprise at his own words. That sounded oddly like a compliment.

Zuko didn't sheath the sword as he swam over to Sokka, still lingering at the edge of the courtyard. "Am I?" he asked neutrally, though the very sharp-looking sword he was still carrying made the question sound quite threatening.

Not that Sokka would let him know that. It was a matter of pride. "Maybe," he answered vaguely. He wasn't quite sure what else to say; he hadn't had the opportunity to plan out this conversation.

The prince seemed to be considering something. Sokka let him think – he was sure he'd just mess the whole thing up if he opened his big mouth again. Eventually, Zuko inquired, "Can you fight?"

"Uh… yeah," Sokka said defiantly. He could fight. Jet and his broken nose could attest to that. "But not with a sword."

Oh, so his mouth had gone for the casual-admittance-of-weakness approach then. Okay, Sokka could work with that.

Zuko's eyebrows rose a little, and he looked thoughtful as he pushed some loose strands of hair back from his face. "… I could teach you, if you want."

… Well, that was easy. "Okay," Sokka agreed easily. He hadn't even had to go through the awkwardness of asking him for lessons and sounding desperate. This was turning out well.

A rougher-looking sword was handed to him, and his right hand automatically found the rough cloth-bound grip. His fingers slid into small indentations made by someone else's hand. This sword had clearly been used an awful lot.

"I don't get a fancy thing like yours?" Sokka half-joked with a grin. He really did want a sword that was probably worth more than everything he owned put together.

Zuko frowned incredulously as he pushed the stubborn strands out of his eyes again. "No way," he said, as if Sokka was ridiculous for even suggesting it. When the strands fell back over his forehead for a third time, he sighed gruffly and gave up trying to fix his hair, simply tugging out the hair tie. He handed Sokka the fancy sword to hold as he redid the messy bun. He nodded to the blade Sokka was ogling. "You don't get to use one like this until you can last a whole match without dropping it." He accepted the sword when Sokka offered it to him, and turned his back to Sokka and moved back out onto the court, gesturing over his shoulder for Sokka to follow him.

Sokka was a little affronted at the suggestion of his clumsiness. Really, how hard could it be to hold on to the sword?

… Pretty difficult, as three hours of basic training taught him. Once he'd been shown enough for a brief match, all Zuko seemed to want to do was disarm him.

And he succeeded.

Over and over again.

The rusty clang as the sword hit the wall for what must've been the tenth time made Sokka flinch. He grimaced, folding his arms over his chest childishly as Zuko retrieved the weapon.

"What?" Zuko snapped. "Did you expect to be perfect after the first day?"

Sokka huffed to himself. He hadn't, of course, but given his previous fighting experience he'd expected to be better than he currently was – which was, to put it bluntly, shit.

He accepted the sword from Zuko with a gruff sigh. So much for keeping up appearances of skill.

"Again."

This time, Sokka lasted at least ten seconds before the sword went crashing and clattering along the pavestones. It was an improvement.

Sokka let out a loud roar of frustration which nearly drowned out Zuko's words.

"You're good."

Sokka whipped around to face him in disbelief. Was this guy serious? "Are you kidding me? Have you been paying any attention to my absolute inability to defend myself?"

Zuko didn't seem to be listening to his rant, and he continued on as if he hadn't heard Sokka's very good point. "You've made a noticeable amount of improvement in a very short space of time. You're a quick learner." The prince's expression was twisted into a thoughtful frown. "Uncle is good friends with a master swordsman. He doesn't easily accept students, but he might teach you if he sees you fight like that after only three hours. You're already beginning to respond to my movements."

Sokka was about to reply with some self-deprecating snarl of anger, but he was interrupted before he could think of one.

"Ooh, who's the cutie, Zuko?"

A blurry pink thing entered Sokka's vision, and he drew back from it automatically. When he'd retreated to a suitable distance, his eyes focused on it, and he found out that it wasn't a thing at all – it was a girl. A very pretty girl. Smiling at him. "Uh –"

"None of your business," Sokka heard Zuko growl from somewhere across the court, though he couldn't actually see the prince due to the girl insisting on taking up his whole vision.

The girl pouted, grumbling quietly, "I see you're in your usual good mood."

Zuko ignored the taunt. "Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be on vacation with Azula?"

The pink girl sighed deeply, finally tearing her attention away from Sokka and turning to face Zuko across the court, giving Sokka a glimpse of the dark scowl on his face. "Yeah, but she and Mai were being so couple-y, and it was so totally awkward, so I came back early to give them some alone time," she answered with a wide grin.

Sokka glanced in slightly alarmed confusion between the two of them, who very obviously knew each other - and who the hell were Azula and Mai?

He was allowed only a moment's respite, however, as the chipper girl turned back to him with a smile. She gave him a very overt once-over. "We haven't met before. I'm Ty Lee, and you're cute." She winked at him.

Winked.

"Ignore her," Zuko sighed in his direction, sounding far more irritated than he had five minutes ago. "She's my sister's friend."

Ty Lee scrunched her face up. "I'm not your friend, Zuko? That's harsh. Aren't you going to introduce your gorgeous friend to me?"

Sokka blinked warily at her, sort of scared but also basking in the compliment at the same time. It was a strange combination. "I'm Sokka," he said, more than a little apprehensively, deciding he was perfectly capable of introducing himself. "Nice… to meet you?"

Ty Lee giggled. "You're so awkward. It's adorable."

"Stop flirting and go back to wherever you came from," Zuko growled, sheathing his sword and replacing his shirt, which had disappeared after the first hour of training.

The angry comment had the opposite effect, however, and Ty Lee just let out a sweet, musical laugh. "You're getting awfully protective, Zuko."

Apparently this had some hidden meaning, because the two mermaids shared a look.

Zuko seemed for a brief moment like he desperately wanted to say something, but after a fleeting glance at Sokka, he chose to angrily swim off in silence.

"That guy's always in such a bad mood," Ty Lee commented remorsefully after he'd left.

Sokka glanced cautiously at her. "Yeah," he agreed, not entirely sure where to go from here. "So, are you like, a princess, or...?"

Ty Lee looked at him with surprise before bursting out in laughter. Sokka felt a little chagrined. "No. I mean, my family's noble, but I'm not a princess or anything. Just friends with one."

"Zuko's... sister?" Sokka tried, slowly putting all the pieces together.

Ty Le nodded. "He didn't tell you? Azula, his younger sister. I guess you wouldn't have met her. She's been on vacation for the past month or so with Mai and me." Ty Lee blinked in realisation, probably at the confused look on Sokka's face. "Oh, Mai's her girlfriend. That's why, you know, I'm back here. Third wheeling isn't that great," Ty Lee joked with a bright giggle.

Oh. That made sense. He wondered briefly why Zuko hadn't mentioned this, and why Azula had managed to not come up during a single conversation this entire fortnight. He'd mentioned Katara at least ten times already.

"Oh!" Ty Lee suddenly exclaimed. "I promised Iroh I'd drop in for tea! Sorry Sokka, got to go." She beamed at him with a quick wave. "Nice meeting you!"

Sokka was too stunned to respond as she tumbleturned down the corridor.

"And I'm not even getting anywhere with it, no progress - I just - I have no idea what I'm doing." Sokka paused in his agitated circling of the room to make a very distressed hand gesture.

Aang hummed with sympathy from the couch. Looking far too comfortable, in Sokka's opinion. He was trying to vent his feelings here, and Aang might as well have been asleep for all the attention he was paying.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes," Aang replied calmly, finally turning to look at Sokka. "And you know what I'm hearing? I'm hearing you and Zuko spending time together, sharing interests and getting to know each other. Which was kind of the entire point of this trip, right? So I'd say things are going pretty well and you really shouldn't be so anxious. You'll get frown lines."

Sokka nearly exploded with frustration. "But -"

Aang sighed dramatically, throwing a hand over his face. "Come on, Sokka. Friendships don't form overnight. Be patient."

"Easy for you to say," Sokka grouched. "You're immortal."

Aang rolled his eyes. "Just keep at it. You said it yourself, things are less awkward now than when we first got here, right? It's only been a couple of weeks. Friendship doesn't have a time limit."

Sokka flopped down beside the genie on the plump couch. "I know, I know," he grumbled. "I also kind of miss my boat. I haven't gone this long without it in years."

"Your boat's fine. I check every day, remember? I even did your dishes this morning."

Sokka looked up. "All of them?"

"Yup. You had a huge pile. It took forever."

Sokka couldn't help but laugh at the image of Aang in his kitchen, getting annoyed about Sokka's dishes. He made a mental note to get a dishwasher. "Thanks, buddy." Still, something tugged at Sokka's chest at the thought of Zuko's coffee mug clean and washed. But who cared about a mug, anyway? He had the real deal right here in the palace with him. He could easily get another Zuko mug.

Not that he actually would steal Zuko's dirty mugs, because that would be weird and creepy.

His train of thought was broken by a knock on the door. "Prince Sokka, sir?"

Sokka shot up. "Quick!" he whispered frantically. Aang wasn't supposed to be in the palace - he couldn't be seen. "The lamp, the lamp!"

Aang rummaged around the couch, flinging cushions left and right before he found it and dove back inside. Sokka took a deep breath and answered the door.

"The meeting on export transportation is scheduled to begin shortly," the servant said with a bow.

"Oh right," Sokka said. "Thanks, I'll be right there."

Over the next week, Sokka found himself taking Aang's advice to heart. He was making progress, and he was determined to focus on the positives.

One of which was the sparring. They'd fought barehanded yesterday, and Sokka had managed to hold his own far better. He'd even beaten Zuko once. (Zuko had beaten him at least five times, and given him a nasty bruise on his shoulder - which he would not stop apologising for, despite the fact they both knew it was an accident - but that was inconsequential.)

Today was swords. Besides the fact that every hour spent training was an hour spent with Zuko, he was actually enjoying the learning for the sake of learning, and the blade was beginning to feel less foreign and more familiar in his grip now.

He was still pretty shit, though.

"Ah, Sokka! I've been looking for you."

Sokka grinned and turned at the sound of the Sea Lord's voice. He was becoming quite fond of the guy. "Really? Why?"

Iroh raised an eyebrow at Sokka's pre-spar shirtless state, but made no comment. Instead, he smiled widely, and the edges of his deep-set eyes crinkled. "I want to thank you."

It was Sokka's turn to raise an eyebrow. "For what?" he asked, bemused.

"For taking my suggestion to heart," Iroh answered with a slightly lower voice, as if someone might hear him. "Prince Zuko has been telling me all about your sparring sessions and your amazing talent."

Sokka blinked. He had? No way. "I… really doubt that," he replied with an incredulous half-smile. Still, he couldn't quite suppress the pleasant warmth that bloomed in his chest at the thought.

Iroh chuckled heartily. "Perhaps those were not his exact words. But the meaning is the same. I know he appreciates the effort you're putting in, even if he won't admit it, so I would like to thank you on his behalf." Iroh sighed with mild exasperation. "I hope he matures quickly enough to tell you his gratitude himself. I cannot keep treating him like a child for much longer."

That brought a smile to Sokka's face. No prince was perfect, no matter his swordsmanship. "It's okay," he said through a bright grin. "It's fun. And I've always wanted to be able to fight with a sword. Though actually, I should probably hurry up so I don't keep him waiting."

"You're about to spar?" Iroh inquired.

"Yeah. And you know how he gets when you keep him waiting," Sokka joked, and Iroh guffawed.

"Yes. Quite. Well, have fun. I will see you at dinner," Iroh called over his shoulder as he swam past towards his wing.

Sokka waved with a responding, "See you."

Five minutes later found him in the courtyard facing an impatient prince deftly wielding a bejewelled sword.

"Where have you been?" Zuko asked brusquely, lobbing Sokka his practice sword without looking at him.

Sokka had to dash to the left to catch it before it hit the ground. He frowned irritably. "I ran into Iroh. It's not my faul – whoa, Zuko!" he yelped as he was forced to duck to avoid losing his ponytail. "Watch where you're swinging that thing!"

"Just checking you're paying attention."

After that, the practice continued as normal: Sokka was instructed in some basic steps – mostly defensive – which he would then put into practice against Zuko, with (painstakingly slowly) increasing levels of success.

After about an hour, Zuko let out a loud growl of exasperation. "No, Sokka, look – your stance is all wrong."

Sokka tried to turn around to tell Zuko just what he thought of that accusation when a firm grip twisted his skull to face forward again.

"No," Zuko steadfastly insisted from somewhere behind him. "Your opponent is in front of you."

"Fine," Sokka grumbled, but his resistance was shocked to a standstill when he felt a hand on his wrist. Instinctively, he jerked away from it, eliciting a frustrated sigh from the prince the hand belonged to.

"You're so jumpy," Zuko muttered. "This arm has to be higher." He guided Sokka's left arm into the correct position and let go. It immediately dropped an inch. "I said higher! Do I have to do everything for you?" He took hold of Sokka's wrist again, holding it firmly in place.

Sokka kept his mouth shut, however much he was burning with annoyance.

Zuko lightly tapped Sokka's tail. "Bend, be ready to move at any time."

Sokka bent what should have been his knee joint and sunk into the stance.

"Relax your shoulders."

Unfortunately, Zuko's supposedly helpful actions were proving counterproductive, as Sokka found it very difficult to relax his shoulders under the rough pressure of Zuko's palm - he shivered in pain as one finger pressed right against the bruise he'd acquired from the training yesterday.

He tried to shrug the hand away from the sore spot, and it readjusted itself closer to the nape of his neck, ghosting across dark skin – and Sokka felt his skin heat, and he shivered for an entirely different reason.

"What?" Zuko muttered as he roughly nudged Sokka's tail into proper position. "You can't be cold in this weather."

Sokka cleared his throat awkwardly, though Zuko seemed – thankfully – oblivious to his sudden tension. "Maybe it's the shirt," he mumbled, and realised after he said it that it didn't make quite as much sense out loud as it had done in his slightly jumbled brain.

Zuko stared at him over his shoulder for a moment. Then he blinked, shaking his head in confusion and dismissal and returning to the matter at hand – or, more literally, under his hand. "I said relax your shoulders. You can't fight if you're this tense." Zuko squeezed slightly at Sokka's shoulder to punctuate his point, and Sokka wished as he desperately fought a blush that Zuko would let go of his shoulder and wrist and stop touching his hip and put a fucking shirt on.

Thankfully, a few seconds later, he moved away, though the shirt problem was left unresolved. "Okay," Zuko said with a nod as he observed. "Try that sequence again."

Somehow – inexplicably – Sokka lasted the rest of the training session without any more unexpected and awkward mishaps. The pair continued their somewhat aggressive spar for another hour, until Zuko finally deemed their practice over with a satisfied nod. Sokka stretched sore arms above his head until his joints cracked and he sighed in pleasure. Zuko shot him a vaguely disgusted look from across the court.

They parted ways - Zuko needed to go be unavailable somewhere secret, and Sokka returned to his wing to finish reading that book he was halfway through - he'd found it in the library, a book about 'land people' lore. It was fascinating to read about humans through the eyes of merpeople. Even if they'd actually gotten a lot of it wrong. Humans certainly did not photosynthesise. As far as Sokka knew, anyway.

But that evening, it didn't matter how interesting the book was, or how the previous night Sokka had been so engulfed in the tome he hadn't gone to bed until three. No matter how many times Sokka readjusted his position on the couch and opened the book, he simply couldn't read it.

Sure, his eyes would move over the words, and his hands would even turn the pages, but none of it actually went in. He'd get lost in thought, and then find himself staring at a paragraph three pages ahead of the last thing he remembered reading, and have to start all over again. This went on for hours before Sokka decided to give up and drop the book onto the coffee table with frustration. It wound him up even tighter when the water cushioned the fall, and the book made hardly a whisper as it landed.

It was frustrating because no matter how hard he tried, he could not stop thinking about Zuko.

More specifically, he could not stop thinking about that afternoon, and the feel of Zuko's hands, and the way his skin still tingled even now.

It was bizarre, and uncalled for, and entirely unexpected. But Sokka considered himself a pretty rational, reasonable guy. He wasn't into the whole self-deception and denial thing.

And so when, the next day, Zuko shot him a covert smile across the meeting table, a smile for Sokka's eyes only, and his golden gaze burned molten, and it made Sokka's breath hitch and his neck flush with uncomfortable heat because all he wanted in that moment, more than anything, was for Zuko to never, ever stop looking at him like that, he realised he couldn't deny it anymore.

He was attracted to Zuko.