Disclaimer: I do not own ATLA or its characters.
69
"Nice."
Suki frowned at Aang, who leaned against the counter next to her as she chopped some vegetables. "What's nice?"
"You have artichokes," he explained. "I feel like artichokes are an underused vegetable. It's so versatile."
"It's for a dip," she said lamely. "Spinach and artichoke dip. It might be vegetarian."
"That 'might' inspires a lot of confidence," Aang laughed. He turned his head, following the curve of the counter, where Sokka stood at the end, slicing a dark, red meat into long, thin slices. "What's Sokka working on?"
"Oh, um..." Suki kept her eyes firmly planted on her cutting board. "I'm not sure. Some meat."
"You're not sure?"
"No, we haven't really talked... about the dinner that much," she added. Lame recovery, she scolded herself. "Aren't you supposed to be working on something?" she asked, desperate for a change in subject.
He nodded distractedly, waving a dismissive hand. "Veggie puffs. They're in the oven. Is he making the barbecue he made last month? It smelled so good. I was almost tempted to try some."
"I really don't know," Suki muttered. "Like I said, we haven't talked much."
Aang looked at her sharply. "You haven't talked much, or you haven't talked much about dinner?"
She bit her lower lip. "Both?"
He groaned. "He talked to you. About marriage. And you're mad. Or, is he mad? Either way, I'm guessing it didn't go well."
"Well, actually, I brought it up..." She trailed off, her mouth opening in shock. "Wait, has he talked to you about it?"
Aang blinked, and she swore she saw his palm twitch, as if he was restraining himself from smacking his own forehead. Her eyes narrowed. "He and I have spoken about marriage, and how he feels about it," he said carefully. "We had sort of thrown around the idea of him coming to you about it, when he was ready."
"Well, it looks like I beat him to the punch," she answered, somewhat mollified. "But, no, it didn't go well."
One of his hands wiped across his eyes wearily. "So you two are in an argument about marriage at the same time that we're hosting this awkward dinner party."
"It's not exactly ideal for me, either, Aang. And I thought you said that it wouldn't be awkward."
Aang flushed. "It won't," he said quickly. "Of course it won't." His eyes darted to hers, and their eyes held for a split second before they both degenerated into laughter. "Okay, maybe I lied. And I'm sorry, by the way."
"For what?" she asked, still chuckling.
"For hearing you say that you two are in an argument and then immediately thinking of my own dinner party. That was selfish."
Suki sighed. "I forgive you, of course. And, honestly, it's probably better that I talk about something else. Despite your very convincing argument that this dinner party won't be awkward, I'm not so sure. Putting myself in a bad mood beforehand is definitely not going to help."
"Well," Aang said slowly. "If it makes you feel any better, Sokka loves you very much. That's why we talked about it, though I'll admit our discussion was very brief. Whatever you guys decide, it'll be what's best for both of you. If you both love each other, things will all work out."
"Sounds like Sokka was a great deal more forthcoming with you than he was with me," Suki grumbled.
"I'm not the one he loves," Aang answered, shrugging. "Sometimes it's easier to talk to someone else."
Suki thought about that. "I suppose that's true. To a degree. But shouldn't the easiest person to talk to should be the person you love?"
"That's the way we want it to be," Aang said. "But things don't always happen that way. Sometimes we get tongue-tied, or afraid of rejection..." He gave her a pointed look. "Sometimes, the people we talk to are a bit reticent to hear exactly what we're feeling."
She flushed at the veiled implication. "Well, even so. He didn't have to walk out in the middle of the discussion."
"I wasn't there," Aang said delicately. "And I don't know what was said. I just know what he said before. He loves you, Suki. And you love him, too. This will work out."
For a moment, only the sound of her busy knife slicing through the artichoke floated between them. "I hope you're right," she murmured.
He smiled confidently. "I know I am."
"Well, don't they look deep in conversation?" Katara said lightly, leaning against the counter top as Sokka seasoned the beef.
He cast a glance, feigning nonchalance, down to the other end of the kitchen where Suki and Aang hovered. "Sure," he grunted. But when Suki and Aang burst into shared laughter a moment later, he couldn't keep the frown from his lips.
"What do you think they're talking about?"
"I don't know, Katara," Sokka answered waspishly. "Martial arts? Emotional flightiness?"
Katara blinked in surprise. "Aang isn't flighty."
"He's not the one I was referring to."
"Suki mentioned you two got in a fight." Katara nudged his shoulder gently. "Care to elaborate?"
He scoffed. "What, sway your opinion and deny Suki the opportunity to vilify me behind my back? What kind of boyfriend would I be?"
"Well, I don't know what the argument was about, but I can't imagine that kind of thinking is constructive," Katara commented mildly. "Spirits, Sokka, I haven't heard you this vindictive since she threw away your old robe."
Sokka dropped the knife with a soft clatter onto the counter top, the old wound resurfacing. "Well, it wasn't hers to throw away, and it was the most comfortable article of clothing I owned-"
"I'm not sure it was an article of clothing so much as, like, a tattered dish towel held together by strings and willpower," his sister replied.
"She didn't even say sorry-"
"Nor should she," Katara interrupted. "In fact, someone should have pinned a medal on her. That robe was a crime against decency."
He glared at her. "Are you over here to gloat? Or maybe to pour some salt in the wound? Aang bought some of that fancy pink salt recently; you could wound me in style."
"You are so hyperbolic, it's nauseating."
Bereft of a clever reply, Sokka blew a loud raspberry at his sister.
"Very mature," Katara deadpanned, wiping herself off theatrically.
"Only when I want to be."
She raised one eyebrow in amusement. "Well, far be it from me to tell you how to argue with your girlfriend, but a little maturity might go a long way in fixing your problem."
"You don't even know what we were arguing about," he protested.
"I don't have to know what the argument was about to know that maturity would help resolve it. Maturity, and... and..." She cast around, waving one hand in the air as if the word she was looking for hovered above them. "Love, I guess."
"I do love her," he scowled.
She patted his cheek condescendingly. "Well, try not to look so miserable about it."
"I'm not miserable."
"Sokka, you're downright dour. Perk up. I need you."
"What do you need me for?"
There was a knock at the door. She nodded grimly towards it. "That."
A/N: this one is to GeneralKenobi212, who has reviewed almost EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER which is incredible, and who's dedication to Sukka knows no bounds.