What Doesn't Kill You

By Keelywolfe

Sokka/Zuko

It might have been better to be hurt, to have a deep ache inside himself to worry at, to feel every time he shifted, every step a reminder of his disillusionment. When he woke the next morning, hovering in that little dream-space of unreality where his thoughts were still gathering from their nightly sabbatical, Sokka sat up automatically, caught between a yawn and a stretch, and he barely felt a twinge to remind him.

Nothing physical remained to root him to his rage; a faint stickiness to his skin that could have been sweat from sleep, a bruise here and there, easily dismissed as from training. So for the first brief moments of awakening, he didn't remember at all, only sniffed the air half-heartedly for a meatless breakfast while he pushed his loose hair out of his eyes.

It was the sound of a yawn that broke through his early morning forgetfulness, automatically glancing in that direction to see Zuko sitting up in his blankets, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand like a child.

Memory was like a flood of icy water slapping into him, pooling behind his eyes and for a moment, Sokka couldn't move, pinned there by his recollection as surely as he'd been pinned the night before by Zuko's body. A faint shiver went through him before he could still himself, and he realized with dim horror that he was hard. Perfectly ordinary in the morning, teenaged body uncaring about the implications it brought with it, gods, he was remembering what Zuko had done and he was hard, horrifying little thrills of pleasure that went through him every time he shifted and rubbed against his clothes.

He might have sat there the rest of the morning, rigidly afraid to move, his breathing coming faster as panic started rising thick in his throat, if a bowl hadn't been suddenly thrust in front of his face, breaking the circle of his thoughts.

Sokka blinked at it, almost uncomprehending even as his hands raised and took it automatically, looking up into warm blue eyes.

"Not quite awake yet, big guy?" Suki teased, handing him a pair of chopsticks to go with it. She left him to it, went back to gather another bowl as Katara dished it out.

They'd hardly spoken in the past couple days, Suki focusing on her own training and Sokka focusing on...everything and nothing, a million details that he'd alternately tried to change or ignore completely. He'd been avoiding her, he realized dully, because really, what else could he do? Spill everything that had been happening, watch the sweet warmth in her eyes turn to ashes, watch them fill with horror.

He couldn't tell her anything, not without telling everything, not without telling them all, and he was trapped as surely as if he'd been wrapped in a net, struggling only winding it tighter.

Movement by his side and he looked over sharply at Zuko kneeling next to him, his growing dismay splintering its way through the detachment he'd managed to hold on to yesterday.

He was only serving tea the way he always did, his little thrice daily chore that he'd accepted unconditionally. Had offered, in fact, almost sheepishly, because it was something he could do. Sokka suspected Katara had only agreed to it because there was some dark humor in it, wasn't there, to have a prince serving them, even an exiled one, the guy who'd tried to kill them, the guy who'd..who'd...

Zuko was just kneeling there with his tray, met his eyes unflinchingly and there was nothing mocking in them, no humor in those yellow depths. Fox eyes, liar's eyes, and Sokka wondered a little wildly if Zuko would touch him and what he would do if he did, so ready to flinch away he thought his bones might snap

"Are you all right?" Zuko said, finally, barely a murmur under his breath and the sheer absurdity of it almost made Sokka laugh because what could he say? No, I'm not all right, no, I think I might be losing my mind, no, because I agreed to let you fuck me but you weren't supposed to make me like it, you bastard, you weren't supposed to imbed yourself into my thoughts, no, because I hate you, I want to see you broken and bleeding but I think I still want--

"I'm fine," Sokka pushed out through his dry throat, snatching a cup from tray and draining it, barely noticing the way it scalded his mouth. He braced for Zuko to say something else, something mocking and sardonic, maybe just a single word, a softly spoken, 'tonight' that would lodge itself into his thoughts, circling with the rest of them like vultures as they waited for his weakness to show itself.

But Zuko didn't say anything else, didn't so much as brush against him as he rose easily back to his feet, balancing his tray with one hand as he offered a cup to each of the others, and Sokka watched him, helplessly, rage beating its leathery wings against his heart but what he remembered were softly spoken words, repeated over and over.

(I don't want to hurt you, not going to hurt you, I'm not)

He set his cup aside with a clatter, spilling lukewarm tea over his hand as he picked up his bowl again and roughly shoveled rice into his mouth. The blandness of it was a mercy to his churning stomach and he gave little regard to the conversations floating around him.

Teo and Haru making plans to do a little more exploring, Katara was asking, no, telling Aang that she wanted the two of them to work on a little waterbending this morning, and Toph interrupting, demanding her share of Aang's time. Little everyday conversations that held no interest for him and none of them even noticed his silence.

It was the voice he didn't hear that suddenly caught his attention, his dad wasn't sitting with the rest of them, not even near Chit Sang who sat a little further away, shoveling his own breakfast into his mouth with little grunts of satisfaction. He looked up sharply, glanced around and...there. His dad and Zuko, both of them turning a corner as they walked briskly away.

As casually as he could, Sokka set his bowl aside, wiping his hands on his trousers before he walked after them. Couldn't run, no, didn't want to attract any attention even as he bitterly noticed the others paid him no mind, kept to their little bland conversations while he tried to tamp down the heat rising in his chest.

They hadn't gone far, ducked into one of the pagodas and the door was shut but he could hear their voices, hushed and deep, searched for desperately and found a spot where the wall was crumbling, vines pushing their way through stone, and he could see inside.

For a brief moment, he thought they were embracing and that sick, crimson rage hovered on the edge of his vision because they'd had a deal, he'd paid for it plenty, and here Zuko was--

But no, his father had both hands on Zuko's upper arms but they weren't kissing, only talking, Hakoda punctuating every few words with a hard shake. He couldn't get close enough to make out their words but he could see Zuko's expression shifting, from shocked into...for the briefest moment, his face crumpled into misery before it went carefully blank. He nodded once, brusquely, and then jerked away, taking three steps back until he was nearly against the wall and there was formalness in his stance that warned of firebending.

His father turned away from it, turned his back with carelessness that made Sokka wince, don't trust him, don't, don't, but Zuko's hands dropped as Hakoda strode away, leaving Sokka to scramble behind the meager concealment of a half-collapsed section of wall.

He heard the quiet click of his father shutting the door, his footsteps fading, and after long moments when Zuko didn't follow, Sokka crept forward again.

The crack in the wall was just barely wide enough for him to peer inside, but it was enough for him to see Zuko was sitting slumped in the corner, hunched over with his head in his hands and for a moment, Sokka thought he was crying.

Good, he thought fiercely, let the bastard suffer, his dad wasn't going back to him no matter what he did. Let him sit there alone and cry like a little lost child, let him hurt like he hadn't let Sokka.

But after a moment, he raised his head and his eyes were clear, his cheeks unblemished with wetness. Instead he just looked...tired. Bleak. And somehow it wasn't nearly as satisfying as Sokka might have hoped, an answering echo of that exhaustion deep inside him.

Sokka turned and crept away before someone came looking for him, stumbled across this scene that he had no way and no interest in explaining. He needn't have worried, everyone was where he'd left them, none of them noticing his absence and his faint resentment at that gnawed just a little as he considered what he'd seen.

He wondered what they'd argued about, and a half-formed idea terrified him, that somehow his dad knew, knew everything but neither Hakoda nor Zuko tried to talk to him alone that day, Sokka going through his motions of fruit gathering, trying to listen to Suki and avoiding her slight attempts to embrace him. Whatever she thought of that, she said nothing, only smiled her sweet smile when they all bedded down for the night.

Exhaustion was pulling at him, pleading for him to ignore their little deal and get some rest but Sokka ignored it. Lay there with his eyes open, watching the moonlight trace patterns over the smooth stone floor until the shadow across from him slipped from the blankets and away.

Zuko didn't wait for him to follow, only walked in the same direction as the night before and if Sokka had been sick with dread then, tonight was worse. The dread was still there, heavy as a stone in his gut but it was diluted, thinned with something all the more horrid. Inside him, threaded through with shame, was his own desire, anticipation of what was to come. He was barely able to admit it to himself but he couldn't ignore the way his cock hardened as he walked silently along, the way sweat was springing out over his body as he approached the door to their--

(their, he was thinking of it as their? They, them, their, no, please)

--their pagoda, pushing it enough that the door swung open on silent hinges. He wet his lips and stepped inside, the door closing slowly behind him.

Zuko was already inside; of course he was, sitting on the window ledge, one leg drawn up and the other dangling outside. His hands were resting on his belly, loosely twined together as he looked out at the night sky.

"Come on, let's get this over with," Sokka said roughly, his hands already going to the ties of his belt. Better to do this, get it done and then he could sleep, let his dreams wash all of this away for just a little while. Until tomorrow night, but don't think of that yet, let that be.

"No," Zuko said softly, gazing out the window. "Just...no. It's okay, you can go."

Sokka went still, his heartbeat pounding like thunder in his ears. "What? No way, we had a deal, we--"

"I won't tell anyone. You have my word. Just go." Then, almost as an afterthought. "Please."

Sokka let his hands fall to his sides, unwilling to let it go at this. There was a trick or a trap, something he hadn't thought of, maybe Zuko hadn't given up on his dad so easily, maybe, maybe. "Why?" he asked finally, suspiciously.

Zuko took a slow, deep breath, let it out. "Your father asked me today to stay away from you. Actually, he told me to, so that's just what I'm going to do."

"What?" Sokka said, disbelief widening his eyes, raising his voice. "That's it? My dad tells you to do something and you just do it?"

"Your father's a good man," Softly. "And this...this isn't what I intended to become when I left home, I--" Zuko made a sound like laughter, soft and bitter. "You know, the worst part is, I actually believed he liked me. It's stupid, really. I believed he wanted me, I thought--" he swallowed hard, ducked his head. "But you were right. He didn't really want me, he felt sorry for me, he pitied me and now he doesn't even want me near you. He's a good man and you are, and I'm...not." Zuko trailed away. "I shouldn't be saying any of this. Please, just go."

Sokka just stood there uncertainly, hating the way his anger was leaking away. It was easy to hate mocking, cruel Zuko, the shadow of ponytailed Zuko that he'd been seeing lately. Now, sitting there with his hands loose in his lap and his face turned towards the stars he just seemed...lost, and Sokka was with him in that, felt like he was stumbling blindly now that he was cut loose. He could go, Zuko had said he could, but somehow he found himself staying right here, watching Zuko watch the sky.

Zuko hadn't moved and suddenly Sokka didn't like the way he was leaning out the window, at all. The sills were crumbly, years of neglect wearing away at the stone and it was very possible that if Zuko shifted his weight wrong it would crumble away entirely. Or that Zuko could simply lean out and let himself fall.

He should hate him, he should after what he'd done but somehow all he felt now was a sort of raw sympathy, and pity, yes, he could admit that. He still didn't want Zuko near his dad but suddenly his vision on this was twisting, Zuko admitting that his dad hadn't really liked him at all had gotten to him somehow and maybe...maybe what his dad had done wasn't exactly the kindest thing to do to a guy who'd just left his entire life behind.

With sudden, wrenching clarity, a tunnel opened up in his mind and he could see the white light at the end, like he was only believing it for the first time. Zuko was only a year older than him and his dad had...his dad...

He covered his mouth with his hand, choking off the sound that tried to escape. Zuko startled, off balance as he turned back towards him. It made Sokka's stomach rise into his throat and he flinched when Sokka grabbed his arm, yanking him a little further inside.

"Don't touch me," Zuko said, his voice thin and he tried halfheartedly to pull away.

"I'll touch you if you look like you'll fall otherwise," Sokka scowled and didn't let go. If the fate of the world depended on Aang learning firebending, he wasn't about to let the only person who could teach him die in such a stupid fashion.

"Is that what you think?" Zuko tipped his head back a little and gave a hollow laugh. "Don't worry, I'm not going to throw myself to my death like a heartsick girl. I'm going to go to sleep and in the morning I'll get up and spend the day training Aang. That's all."

"Then climb down from there so I can go to bed. You're not the only one who's short on sleep."

"Fine." He moved slowly, like an old man and the second both his feet were on the ground Sokka let him go. His body was already pleading for sleep; the heady throb between his legs was more of an afterthought now, dimmed with shock and exhaustion.

But Zuko didn't move, only pushed his hand heavily through his hair as he sighed, "Look, this isn't going to help but I'm sorry about all this, Sokka. You were trying to help your dad and I blamed all of this on you. I know I can't make it up to you and I don't expect you to forgive me but I just...I'm sorry."

Bowed to him, the same way he had to Toph when he'd burned her feet and the sight of it, Fire Nation apology for fucking with him, inflamed that slow burning anger behind his eyes. An apology, that's what he deserved, pathetic, meaningless words was what he was worth. No, no, that wasn't going to be it, Zuko wasn't going to balance the scales of his honor and call this one even.

"You want to make it up to me?" Slowly, barely aware of speaking, letting the words drop between them like shards of broken glass. "Let me fuck you."

Zuko blinked a little, his eyes uncomprehending and a little frown line appeared between his eyes. "What?"

"Honor is important to you, right? Make it even with me," Sokka repeated, stepping closer to knot his hands in Zuko's shirt before he could step away and it felt good to say it, let the heat throbbing between his legs warm his voice as he stepped in close enough to press his cheek against Zuko's unscarred one, whispered into that soft, delicate shell of skin.

"Let me fuck you."

TBC