A/N: Takes place in between The Firebending Masters and The Boiling Rock. There are really no major spoilers that I could see. This one-shot is a bit cheesy in my opinion, but I worked hard at it and hope you all enjoy it! (SIDENOTE: I've revised bits and pieces of this fic with the help of one of my friends. Although this fic captures the more emotional side of Sokka and Zuko, I tried to make the dialogue less…girly. Let's see if I succeeded in any way…)

Disclaimer: I own nothing. God owns all!


"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"PUH-lease?"

"No."

"Puh-lease?"

"No."

"Puh-LEASE?"

"No."

"PUH-LEASE?"

"No."

"PL-EASE?"

"NO."

"Puh..."

Sokka stuck a large, round, very juicy mango into the boy's mouth, hoping to shut him up.

The Duke sunk his teeth into the fruit, taking a large bite of acidic, citric goodness and pulling the rest of it out of his oral cavity, chewing thoughtfully. No sooner had he swallowed that bite than he started up again.

"Please?"

Sokka groaned as he sheathed his boomerang, which he had been busily homing to a keen edge on his sharpening stone. Now finished and proud of his handiwork, he put his trusted weapon away.

"Please?"

The warrior wrinkled his nose distastefully; the boy was annoying him to no end.

"Please? Please? Plea..."

"Look, Duke," Sokka snapped irritably. "To be very concise: Get. Lost."

The boy regarded him with a curious eye. "The Duke. What's con-size mean?"

"Concise. It means...okay, kid, what is it you want? Because between the time you told me and now, I've said 'no,' so many times that I've forgotten why I was saying 'no.'"

The Duke smiled a very boyish and mischievous smile, one that made Sokka cringe. The warrior recognized that expression all too well. It was the face of a boy who wanted to irritate someone so profusely until it brought about their demise. In short, he wanted to annoy someone to death. And Sokka, the only person other than the Duke who was not training or exploring the far reaches of the Western Air Temple, was the closest and easiest target, and naturally favored over those who were chucking hazardous elements around.

"Well…" The Duke went on, rambling about something that Sokka didn't care to listen to.

"Ugh," Sokka groaned under his breath, cradling his forehead in his hands, "Why me?"

"Why you what?"

At the sound of the second voice, the warrior's head came up, his ice-blue eyes glinting with hope. His hope was fulfilled when his senses confirmed that another person was indeed walking toward the two. Another person who hopefully had nothing better to do.

"Zuko!" Sokka jumped up so suddenly that he nearly knocked The Duke over in the process. "You want to spar?" He didn't even care to check the eagerness in his voice.

The Fire Prince was taken aback. Sokka was the last person he thought would…actually, Katara was the last person he thought would care to even spit in his face, much less offer to spar with him. And Sokka was her brother. He would certainly agree with her, right? Why would he suddenly want to spare the Prince more than a glare?

Zuko's gaze shifted to The Duke, who despite nearly being rammed into the ground by Sokka's knee, was still babbling on about something having to do with a Pipsqueak. Ah, Zuko nodded involuntarily. That's why.

Unfortunately, Sokka mistook his nod for an agreement to his request, and responded with a squeal of very unmanly gratitude. "Great!" He took a step forward, unaware The Duke had a hold on his pant leg. He unceremoniously crashed to the dust in a heap.

Zuko stifled a chuckle, and instead decided to be as mature as possible in the matter. "Duke," the firebender began, trying with all of his ability to keep a straight face. "Let go of his leg. He'll be back later and you can finish your story at mealtime, okay? Then everyone can listen."

The little boy frowned for a moment, muttering a quiet protest. "The Duke. My name is The Duke." But nevertheless, he let go, and Sokka sprang up with no time to spare and was at Zuko's shoulder in an instant, pulling at his sleeve.

"Let's go…" the Water Tribe warrior hissed, and he and the Prince left the Duke alone by the quietly gurgling fountain, making faces at his reflection in the water.

When they were out of hearing range, Sokka leaned against a wall and sighed in relief. He glanced at Zuko with a half-grateful, half-annoyed gleam in his eye. The prince stood a few feet away, his lips pressed tightly together and waiting wordlessly for the warrior to say something.

After several minutes of silence, Sokka finally turned to the firebender, and with a pointed glare, said, "Thanks for the rescue. He'd been annoying me for nearly three hours."

Another moment passed, and Zuko's eyes narrowed. "You mean you didn't really want to spar?"

"Ha!" A sharp laugh escaped Sokka's lips. "Spar with you? I've done enough of that for one lifetime. Remember the guy at the South Pole? Only guy defending a village of women and children?"

Zuko blinked in realization. "Oh."

Sokka snorted. "Not like you'd care anyway. What would you know about defending your family?"

The prince frowned. "It wasn't smart for the other warriors to leave you alone to defend an entire village. What if an entire fleet had come to your home? They would have massacred you all!"

The Water Tribe warrior bristled. His voice carried all the weight, grief, and anguish of a teen who had endured more hardships than most adult men. "They did," he snarled, "Four years after Katara was born. Our mother was killed and dozens of other kids orphaned because of them!" He finished on a high note, his voice heightening in volume and pitch until it was almost a screech. Sokka let himself collapse against the wall, sliding to the ground. The hot tears in his glittering eyes evaporated with the heat of his anger before they could spill on his cheeks. He wasn't going to cry. Especially in front of this joker. "But, you know," Sokka muttered bitterly, angry at himself for breaking down, "At least they didn't get what they came for. At least they didn't get my sister, too."

Zuko hung his head shamefully. "I…I'm sorry." He didn't know what else to say that wouldn't sound rude or hypocritical. His mind felt hazy, his knees weak. Something was pulling at him, something that was foreign and out of his control. He would die before he admitted it, but he was afraid of the feeling that came over him. Suddenly, he felt his lips begin moving of their own accord. "I really am sorry. For so many years I was wrapped up in my own problems, and I couldn't see the suffering around me. I couldn't see anything!" He didn't know what he was saying; it seemed the strange entity had taken over. He lowered himself down to the ground, facing Sokka squarely, his head bowed and his thick bangs shielding his eyes from the warrior's view. He was glad of it, because he wasn't going to let this guy see him upset. Angry, maybe, but certainly not upset. "My mother disappeared when I was really young. My father…d-do you know how I got this scar?"

He lifted his head, and Sokka was watching him. The warrior shook his head, his eyes wide with a child-like curiosity.

He had never told anyone the story. People had heard…through others who had been present during the Agni Kai with his father, and word had spread. But he had never, not once, discussed it with anyone. He had wanted to forget it, to put it behind, to pretend it never happened, knowing that somewhere in his heart his father must still love him…somewhere…

But no. He didn't. Zuko knew that now. Ozai hated him. Hated him with a passion.

He didn't want to deny it any longer. He didn't want to live a fantasy that wasn't his. He didn't want to run and hide from his true self. He didn't want to beg of his father something that the Fire Lord couldn't and wouldn't give him. He could stand it no longer. The floodgates had been broken, and the virus that had planted itself in his mind, shielding him from the truth, was being swept away bit by bit, down the river of his consciousness.

That, he decided, was the reason he poured his entire story and all his regrets out to a former mortal enemy, and left out nothing. No detail was too insignificant. He was taking a pickaxe, hefting it above his head, and with every strike, crumbling the rest of the broken dam.

And he wasn't looking back.

Sokka sat; his arms wrapped around his knees, drawn up to his chin, staring at the prince, his eyes wide as a child hearing a scary story, as Zuko finished his tale with several long, deep breaths.

The warrior had never heard a story quite like the prince's. He almost felt ashamed for ever hating him as deeply as he had. "I…" Sokka began lamely after a few minutes of silence so utterly void of any intelligible sound that it began to beat against both of their ears, pounding, throbbing, like a deep wound that wouldn't heal. Finally, the Water Tribe teen opened his mouth, not able to stand it any longer. "I…never knew."

Zuko, his eyes rimmed red and bloodshot, looked up at his companion. He looked hopelessly horrified and confused. "I've…I…did I really tell you all that?"

Sokka shook his head, equally disgusted. "I always thought the Fire Lord was terrible…but his own son…your father..." he trailed off, utterly at a loss of words.

The Fire Prince shook his head. "I didn't…I didn't tell you all that for you to feel sorry for me. I just…I don't know what I was thinking…I was…"

"Putting it out in the open," Sokka finished. "You've never told anyone that, have you? You tried to deny it all these years. So many things make sense now."

"At least you have someone to blame for your mother's death," Zuko muttered bitterly, "My father has no one to blame but himself."

"Hey, hey," Sokka interrupted the firebender's sulk. "Enough of that mushy, girly psychological stuff." The warrior made a face. "Spirits, we sound like two old grannies complaining about their suckish lives."

Zuko raised an eyebrow, strangely comforted by the younger boy's insensitivity. "Hey," he warned, "Don't talk about Katara and Suki like that."

Sokka laughed. It was high-pitched and obnoxious, but it made his older companion smile. "Good one," the water tribesman grinned.

Zuko blinked and took a hesitant breath. "So, I guess this means we're…"

"Friends?" Sokka finished. He brushed off his leggings and stood. "Not quite. One thing still left."

The prince looked up at him, interested. "What's that?"

Sokka grinned and offered his hand. "Wanna spar?"