Thank you all for your continued kind comments and great constructive criticism! And HUGE thanks to our dedicated beta-er AvocadoLove who we've been inundating lately. (Patience of a saint, seriously.)

From a response from our last chapter, intangible said: P.S: When do we get to find out how exactly Zuko got his scar and what happened to his mother?
This won't be tackled in this fic but you will get the details of this in the Jetko prequel which will be posted once we finish this fic. ~JadePrince+DustyJack

The following evening Sokka texted Zuko to see if he could come over to his uncle's house after soccer practice. When Sokka arrived, it was with a package wrapped in brown paper and a visible nervousness to him. "I hope your uncle doesn't think I'm a nuisance," he said, feeling sheepish. "By coming over all the time."

Zuko only shook his head and stepped aside to let him come in. "You aren't a nuisance," he chided. "Besides, Uncle likes having someone to talk Pai Sho Warriors with," he added with a slight, teasing roll of eyes. He seemed in better spirits today, and his bruised face was almost healed now;just a faint dark shadow left of the mark that had looked so terrible just a few days ago. His eyes were drawn to the package Sokka carried, but he didn't ask about it, only shut the door behind them and moved toward the kitchen. "Dinner's almost ready," he said over his shoulder.

"Cool," Sokka said, pausing, thinking, then setting the package down in the corner near the door. "Can I help?"

In spite of his worries, Iroh was as friendly as always, his mood also improved by Zuko's own attitude. Iroh's cooking was excellent as always and Sokka helped set the table and do dishes after the pleasant meal. Things felt like they were getting back to normal, like the sadness that'd hung over the house was starting to heal. After some tea and chat after dinner, Iroh excused himself to retire and left the boys alone.

In spite of the pleasant atmosphere, one nagging voice in the back of Sokka's head had been screaming through the entire meal. Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it! He's gonna hate them, he's gonna laugh at you, he's gonna be mad for spending so much money on something so useless, he's gonna see right through you and be offended that you could possibly have the audacity to have a crush on him after his father near about broke his wrist for the last relationship he'd had with a boy -- "Um -- I brought something over," Sokka said, nodding to the front room.

Zuko perked curiously, eyes turning toward the other room then back to Sokka. "Yeah?" he asked, turning his mostly empty tea cup in one hand. "What is it?"

"Um -- well -- hang on." Sokka's heart was racing as he stepped out to retrieve the package. When he came back, he handed it to Zuko and sat back down. "It's for you," he said, struggling not to look at the floor and instead be cool and confident. It wasn't a big deal, just a token of friendship. So don't screw it up by acting like a queer. "I--I got it for you a few weeks ago," he said preemptively, for the fear that Zuko would take the token as pity.

"Oh?" Zuko wondered, eyes turning to the brown paper, hands smoothing over it for a moment as he felt the weight. It was familiar somehow. He didn't ask the occasion, but then again, after the first rip, he wasn't able to formulate much thought anyway. The polished wood and brass were the first things he saw, and it was enough to make his breath catch in his throat, and his hands hesitate for just a moment before the tore the paper completely away.

"Sokka?" he breathed, fingers reaching out, tentatively to touch the scuffed lacquer of the scabbard. "Y-you..." He trailed off, lifted the gift from his lap, drew the twin blades half way out, exposing the aged but polished steel. "Oh my god," he whispered, eyes wide. "It's... Sokka, where did you find these?"

"In an shop downtown," Sokka replied in a little bit of a mumble. He felt himself inexplicably embarrassed where in the past, he would have proudly presented a gift to someone who was an object of his affection. "The store owner said they were authentic." He glanced from his feet and up to Zuko's face, trying not to look anxious.

Zuko nodded dumbly. "Yeah." He slid the blade back into place with gentle reverence, fingers still working over the inlay in the scabbard. "They're... really beautiful," he murmured. "Old... but clearly well cared for. My god." His gaze flickered to Sokka's suddenly, lips parting with a short intake of breath. "How... Sokka, these must have cost... a lot." He paused, eyes wide. "I--" he began again, quickly, not wanting to seem ungrateful. "I just-- thank you... You don't know-- it... this means a lot. To me."

Sokka ducked his head, rubbing at the back of his neck a little. Now it was just hard not to grin. That's all he wanted -- for it to mean something. Hopefully to make Zuko happy. It didn't even seem to be crossing the other boy's mind that it was an act of pity as Sokka had been so worried about. Thank god. "I'm glad," he said quietly. "I-- I saw them and I just... I couldn't not get them for you. I'm really glad you like them. I mean they're not sturdy enough to use, but they'll look nice on a wall, I think..."

Zuko leaned forward suddenly, reaching for Sokka's hand to close it in his own, warm, lightly calloused palm. When Sokka looked up, Zuko was biting his lip against a nervous smile. "Thank you," he said again, quieter this time. "I... guess I'm not sure what I did to deserve such a nice thing... but... thank you."

He could feel his cheeks burning pink and he cursed them venomously in the back of his head. But he gave Zuko's hand a squeeze and murmured back, "You were just you. That's the only reason." And he shrugged.

"Thank you," Zuko breathed, and then heard himself say. "For more than just the swords. You've been..." he searched for the right words. "I dunno... just... amazing, I guess. I would have given up on me long ago." He laughed quietly.

Sokka shrugged again. "I'm just in it for your uncle's cooking," he said, offering Zuko a little grin. He felt soothed, in a way. That was one thing that he didn't have to battle himself about anymore. Even though more than ever he wanted to kiss that smiling mouth -- wanted to kiss it more every time he smiled.

And Zuko smiled for him, wider now, shaking his head. "Well, Uncle's cooking is pretty good." It was only then that he became aware that he still held Sokka's hand, and he started faintly, fingers twitching. He didn't let go though. Something kept him rooted to the spot.

The younger of the pair was silent for a long moment, looking down if only to avoid Zuko's smiling eyes. But neither did he withdraw his hand -- not until he realized that he was stroking lightly at the side of Zuko's hand with his thumb. "I-I probably shouldn't stay late tonight," he finally said, pulling away. If he stayed, he was going to do something that he'd regret. The smile that his gift had brought to Zuko's face was just too thrilling.

The expression that Sokka glanced up just in time to catch might have been disappointment, but it also might have been his own wishful thinking. Either way, Zuko, too, drew his hand back, tucking it under his arm and looking down at the swords in his lap. "I'll be at school tomorrow," he offered, nodding vaguely. "So, I mean, I'll see you then, anyway?" He found himself biting somewhat nervously at his lip.

"Right," Sokka agreed quickly, fighting with his fingers that wanted to dart to snatch back the warm grip of Zuko's hand. Aang's advice was still ringing in his ears and making his stomach feel heavy. But even if telling Zuko about his feelings might make the other boy happy, he couldn't get past his own fears. Thinking about that rejection was too much for him to bear -- too embarrassing, too painful. "Thanks for letting me over," he mumbled, unmoving.

"You're always welcome here," Zuko answered back, "I know Uncle thinks so too." The older boy fidgeted faintly, aware of and feeling the strange tension in the atmosphere, hanging around them both, but unsure what to do to dispel it.

"Thanks," Sokka repeated, glancing up to offer Zuko a little smile before he finally stood. He hesitated and added quietly, "I'm really glad you seem to be feeling a little better." He knew it would be a long process to heal from everything that had happened but Sokka was at least glad to see the other boy able to smile a little here and there. "I'll pick you up tomorrow?"

Zuko nodded, following Sokka to his feet, still holding the swords as they left the table. He walked with the other boy to the foyer, then closed the door behind them both as they paused outside on the front step.

"Maybe," Zuko began, after their shared silence grew just a little too awkward. "Maybe you could come over again, you know, whenever, to help me hang these on the wall?"

With a nod and a grin, Sokka readily agreed. "Definitely! Later this week?"

"Whenever you're free," Zuko answered, just a little embarrassed and hefted Sokka's gift higher in his arms. "I know you've got stuff after school so, yeah. That's good."

"Cool," was the best that Sokka could come up with, and then realized it was really time to go because the longer he stayed, the more tempting it was to kiss Zuko good-night on his front porch. "See you tomorrow!" he called over his shoulder with a wave, keys jangling in his hand.

When Zuko stepped back into the house, he heard movement in the kitchen and a peek around the corner found his uncle back at the stove with his faithful teapot. "Is your young friend leaving so early tonight, Zuko?" Iroh inquired with a glance toward his nephew.

"Y-yeah," Zuko answered, stepping into the kitchen. Only when he stood beside his Uncle at the stove did he realize he still carried the swords. "He had... homework, I guess," he added, casual as he could manage.

"I was just making some relaxing tea before bed," Iroh told him, eying the boy with a smile. "What do you have there, Nephew?"

Zuko glanced down as though surprised, coloring a little as he held out Sokka's gift for Iroh's inspection. "Shuangdao broadswords," he mumbled, "From Sokka."

Iroh's brows arched as he turned over the single, wide scabbard in his hands, inspecting the detailed craftsmanship. "Beautiful," he remarked and pulled the blades out enough to see. "Clearly very antique but well taken care of. What a lovely gift." He handed the swords back to Zuko as the kettle started to steam. "Will you join me?" His brows lifted hopefully as he gathered his things.

Zuko nodded quietly and followed his uncle to the front room where he gently placed the gift in one of Iroh's worn recliners before he took a seat beside him on the sofa. He thanked the older man with a murmur as he took the offered tea and held it under his nose, waiting for it to cool enough to drink. Zuko wasn't particularly fond of tea, but once in a while it seemed like the right idea to accept Iroh's offers.

The older man sighed contentedly as he sank into the welcoming cushions of the couch. He blew lightly on his tea, closing his eyes as he breathed in the aroma. "What do you suppose you'll do with them?"

"I-- I asked Sokka to help me hang them," Zuko breathed, barely above a whisper. "In m...my room," he finished, sneaking a quick, nervous glance at Iroh. He was fully aware of what his own words meant. And it wasn't easy to say them. But Sokka had been right to remind Zuko of everything his uncle had done for him. And maybe it was time to finally start appreciating it.

Iroh smiled softly, eyes still closed and he was silent for a long moment. "They will look very nice in your room," he finally said quietly and opened his eyes to give Zuko a warm smile that conveyed his pride. "I just want you to know, Nephew... I know that your father has made this difficult for you... but as long as you need to stay here, you are free to be yourself. As long as you are safe!" he hastened to add. "And if you need that sort of thing, just tell me."

Zuko stared at his uncle for a long time, brow furrowed, face dark with clear confusion. "If I need any...huh?" He stared, suspicious but still hoping for clarification. And then it clicked. And Zuko flushed dark as a beet from brow to throat, almost dropping his tea cup as he startled. "UNCLE!" he choked, "What... what do you think--? I-- I don't... I'm not... It's not... oh man..." It was all he could do to set aside his tea and bury his face in his hands, mortified beyond all reason. How had his uncle formed such an idea, anyway? Because of Jet? But that had been something else. An exception. A strange, confusing part of his recent life. Hadn't it? And it had been totally different than now, than the time he spent in Sokka's company, wasn't it? Of course it was. Though, really, no less enjoyable... being around Sokka was a lot better in some ways, honestly...

Innocent blinking answered Zuko's humiliation, and Iroh looked on curiously. "Why are you so distressed, Zuko? You don't have to be embarrassed with me," he chided affectionately. "You know I like your friend very much. And I'm glad to see you finding someone that makes you happy and treats you well."

Zuko groaned , though his flush was not eased by the kindness with which Iroh treated his misconceived relationship. "Uncle," he took a deep breath, intended to look the older man in the eye but found he couldn't quite manage it. "We're not..." He gestured vaguely, desperately, "you know!" What made him think so, anyway? Zuko frowned. Sokka did, of course, treat him well. Too well, Zuko sometimes thought, a little guiltily. But, happy? Did Zuko really seem happier around the other boy? "It's not like that," he mumbled. "We're friends." And that was enough, he reminded himself, forced himself to remember what had happened the last time he let himself open up to someone more than that. Both he and Jet had been hurt by it.

"Really?" Iroh said, feigning surprise. "From the time you have been spending together and the way that Sokka spoke of you the other day -- when we had our little... outing to your father's... I thought perhaps he was seeking my permission." The older man shrugged and sipped at his tea. "I suppose even my intuition can be incorrect at times."

Despite his best efforts not to be, Zuko found himself suddenly interested. And though he cursed himself quietly for his curiosity, he still heard himself ask, "What did he say about me?" Dangerous, a part of him warned. Uncle is rarely ever wrong, another, tentative part reminded. "I mean, what made you... um, think that?"

"He just spoke very highly of you," Iroh said with a noncommittal shrug. "About how important your friendship is to him. It seems he was having somewhat troubled times before he met you. Sometimes just having someone you can feel close to makes all the difference at times like that."

Zuko sank back into the sofa, drawing his knees up as he considered this. "Yeah," he agreed, quietly. "I guess I know how that feels." Then, "But... that's what friends are supposed to do, right?" he continued, treading unsteady ground. "So why did you think...?" He wasn't sure why he wanted to know. He wasn't sure what he'd do with the information even if he had it. He did know he couldn't bear to see Sokka tread the same sad path that Jet had.

Iroh watched him for a moment, bemused over the edge of his tea cup for a long moment as he took a few more sips. "Well," he said thoughtfully, with a tiny smile that told Zuko he was trying not to tease. "I did find you sleeping quite closely on the couch last week..."

Zuko flushed all over again, this time reaching forward for his tea, trying to appear unconcerned as he took a sip of the now nearly cold drink. "Oh, that," he nodded once, and rubbed at the side of his cheek. "Um. That was just... we fell asleep there, you know?" It'd been nice though, he remembered from half-coherent memories of Sokka's weight and warmth.

"Ah," Iroh said with an understanding nod. "I see. Well, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, Nephew. Things are very different now from when I was a teenage boy!" He laughed.

Zuko grimaced faintly, not really interested in being regaled with tales of his uncle's youthful virility. "It's okay. More surprised than embarrassed, really," he added, though they both knew he was mostly lying. Then, after a brief silence, he continued, more seriously. "Do you think it was alright for me to accept his gift?"

"Hmmm," Iroh considered with a faint chuckle to himself. "Why would it not be?"

"Well, they were really expensive," Zuko answered, "At least they must have been. And... and what if he does you know..." Again, Zuko gestured, looking for the right way to avoid saying what he had to say. "And what if it turns out-- I mean, what if I just can't... you know. I mean, I don't know, and then I've taken this amazing present from him and then I'm just a huge jerk again," he finished somewhat lamely, with a sigh that stirred the surface of his tea.

"Zuko!" Iroh laughed in a kind way, giving his nephew's shoulder a bracing squeeze. It was almost nice to see him distressed over something so human and teenage and ordinary rather than the other ails that had been pressed upon him in the past. "A gift is a gift, there should not be expectations. Your friend gave you a gift in hopes of making you happy and it seems you are, therefore he got what he hoped for. If he has feelings for you that you don't reciprocate, that doesn't make you a bad person. And I'm sure that your friendship is strong enough to survive such a thing."

Zuko heaved a troubled sigh and slumped against his uncle's shoulder. "You said I can be myself here, but the truth is, I can't even figure out what that means. I'm confused."

"The most difficult thing in life can be discovering who you are," Iroh said gently, understanding. "And there are many factors in your life that aim to complicate this process even further. You sound specifically torn though, Zuko. What's troubling you on this subject? You don't have to try to protect your fragile uncle's sensibilities either -- I've seen and heard much stranger things than you think you might be able to tell me!"

Zuko hesitated. Despite his uncle's strong assurances, it wasn't such a simple thing to just talk about, well anything, never mind stuff like this. "It... it doesn't feel the same," he tried, mumbling as he smoothed his palms across his knees. "As Mai or Jet. But I don't know what that means. I don't know if means things won't turn out badly, or if they'll be even worse. He's the best friend I've had in as long as I can remember and I'm scared I'll mess it up. But I can't figure out what I feel, let alone what he feels. And even if I knew, I still don't know what I should do with it!"

"I think, perhaps, Zuko, that you feel different now because in the past you were making decisions through different reasoning. Either for the sake of doing the right thing -- or doing the wrong thing. The difference now is that you are not pressed to obey or disobey anything. This is very different from the pressures and restraints that have been placed on you in the past," Iroh mused. "But is there anything that is pressuring you to act one way or the other?"

"I--" Zuko began, but then fell silent. "I don't know. Like what? Maybe? I can't stand to think of him being hurt, but I don't know what would hurt him more in the long run..." His face was hot, and he was definitely a little dizzy from allowing so much unfiltered honesty to pass his mouth. "And then I feel like a jerk to even be thinking that he might... you know, feel something, when really, it's just as likely that I'm completely imagining it and then--"

Iroh laughed again, patting Zuko on the back. "There are times, Zuko, when I do not envy you for your youth. You are in a very difficult and often awkward time of your life. But! My advice to you is this. It is my impression from observing your friend that he is not particularly good at suppressing his desires. I have a feeling that it will not take too long for you to learn one way or the other if what he feels is friendship or something more. But why do you feel bad for thinking that he might? You are a very handsome and charming young man! It's no surprise that you'd be the object of affection of both boys and girls, that just runs in the family!"

Zuko blanched faintly, mentally crossing his fingers that Iroh would spare him any stories of his own youthful experimentation. He spoke quickly, just in case his uncle was planning on continuing with the train of thought. "It's just... It would be really really embarrassing if I made a fuss about it and then it turned out that there wasn't even anything there, you know?" Still, he supposed that Iroh was right. Sokka wasn't any good at hiding his emotions for long. His poker face was fine at first, but then he tended to forget himself and lay it all out for others to see. "I guess I should wait..." He sighed. He still didn't know what he would do if Sokka did confess though, and that unsettled him more than anything.

"In the meantime, just do what feels right," Iroh said with a pat to Zuko's arm. "Let what you feel guide you, rather than what you think. That's what will make you both most happy."

"You always sound so sure of everything, Uncle," Zuko mumbled. "Like everything is easy."

"Oh, I know it's not easy, Nephew. But if you sound like it is, people will think you're smarter!"

Even then, Zuko couldn't help the quirk of a smile that came to his lips. He shook his head, sighing only a little dramatically. "Are you sure you should be telling me all your secrets?"

"What good is wisdom if it can't be passed along!" Iroh said with a laugh. "In forty years, you'll sound just like me!"

"If Azula ever has a kid, he's probably gonna need the advice of a wise uncle to survive childhood," Zuko mused. "So I guess I should be taking notes."

Iroh nodded gravely. "See, you are already getting wiser."

"It's all thanks to you, Uncle." Zuko turned to offer a little bow, and although his mouth was curved in a wry sort of smile, both of them knew the words rang with truth.