Disclaimer: I do not own ATLA or its characters.
93
Suki bit her lip nervously, and crammed her hands into her pockets. Her palms were sweating.
"So..." she began nervously. "How are you?"
Sokka stared at her, one eyebrow twitching slightly, itching to raise in that look of affectionate judgement that was as well worn as a pair of old shoes. "I've been better," he answered cautiously.
"Me, too."
The silence was burdening, and Suki felt herself choking. There was so much she wanted to say, and none of it forthcoming. She watched him with a fearful intensity, fully aware and increasingly embarrassed that her expression must have been something akin to a wide-eyed little girl.
Sokka heaved a sigh. "Well, Suki, you said you wanted to talk," he said, spreading his hands, as if to say, 'here we are'.
"I know. I'm sorry," she groaned, her head dropping into her hands. From between her disgustingly moist palms, she said, "I've been thinking about this moment since I called you. All the things I wanted to say to you."
"And?"
Her head lifted. "And?"
"What are they?" he asked, scarcely able to keep the edge of irritation from his voice. "What did you want to say? Because, if it's more of the same things you said last week, I think I could do without. Believe me, I've run through that conversation with a fine-toothed comb."
A flash of frustration and shame coiled through her. "I'm not proud of that," Suki flared. "I'm here to fix it."
"Fix it, then," he grumbled.
"That's not exactly a one-person job-"
"You think I don't know that?" Sokka snapped. "You think I didn't want to work it out with you?"
Suki's mouth dropped at his sharp tone. "I know you're upset," she said after a moment, breathing evenly through her nose. "I understand. Emotions were high that day, Sokka. We couldn't see around this, or through it. But there is a way, I know it."
He scratched at the flaking paint on the table's corner. "How do you know?"
Though it terrified her, she reached for his hand, hiding his warm skin under hers. "Because I love you. I love you so much. And it took me this whole fiasco- and several strongly worded scoldings from friends- to realize that that isn't good enough."
Sokka blinked, a little furrow in his brow, as if he wasn't sure if he shouldn't be insulted. "What do you mean?"
"You're afraid... or nervous- whatever word you want to apply- that I'm going to leave when things get hard or when I get scared." Suki drew in another deep breath. "I can see- well, I've been made to see- why you might feel that way. I have some explaining to do."
She peeked through her lashes at him, taking in the down-turned corners of his lips, the smooth little peaks on his brows. All the things that let her know that he was wary. But he nodded for her to continue.
"It's not some tragic sob-story," Suki continued, snorting a little self-deprecating laugh. "It's quite normal, I imagine, and that's why it frightens me so much. You already know parents divorced when I was younger." She tilted her head toward him with a self-conscious smile. "I know- boo-hoo, right? But I saw it all happen, Sokka. I remember it. I remember the way they used to dance in the kitchen. The way my dad would make my mom coffee in the morning, or my mom would leave notes in his lunch when he left for work."
She pulled her hand from his to rest it in her lap, and his hand twitched almost involuntarily at the loss. "And then what happened?" he prompted.
"The usual," she said, leaning back into the bench. "The dancing stopped. So did the notes. And then, slowly, everything else fell away. And I watched. I know that's not some, great, tragic thing, it's hardly something to cry myself to sleep over, and I know that you're likely going to tell me what everyone else has always said. 'They're not you. They're not us.'"
Sokka nodded seriously. "They aren't us."
"My parents probably thought that they'd last forever," Suki sighed. "I'm sure everyone thinks that, so they say 'yes, let's marry' without a second thought, because they think they're different." She looked up at him, her heart in her eyes, willing him to understand. "But just because I'm nervous to marry doesn't mean that I don't want what you want, Sokka. I want you to still be kissing my cheek when we're thirty, to waggle your eyebrows at me sarcastically when we're sixty. I want to argue with you about 'Ba Sing Se's Most Eligible' when it's on it's hundredth season."
"And how are we going to get there, Suki?" Sokka asked gently. "How, when I can't even mention marriage or anything like that without you getting defensive, or 'nervous'? You're always nervous, Suki, always. You say that you want me til we're old and gray, and I want that, too, but it's like you don't even believe it's possible." He leaned toward her. "You can't commit to this without letting go of the part that you're afraid of."
"I'm not afraid to be with you," Suki said firmly. "I'm afraid of seeing the same look in your eyes that my father used to give my mother when there was nothing left between them. Exasperation. Irritation. And nothing- I mean, not so much as a trace- of the love he once bore for her." Unexpectedly, tears filled her eyes. "I couldn't bear it if you looked at me that way."
When she looked at him again, she was surprised to find a half-amused smile on his face, crooked, and warm. He leaned back into his booth, blinking almost lazily. "I can't promise you I won't look at you with exasperation, Suki." He shook his head, chuckling quietly. "I've been looking at you with exasperation since the day I met you. And I can't promise that I'll love you forever. I can promise that I will try, though, with everything that I have. I won't run away, I won't hide when things get hard, because I want to do this with you." He gestured between them, as if their relationship were there, sitting in the middle, hovering in there like an art piece worthy of discussion. "But, I can't- I won't do any of that without the same promise from you."
"I promise," she whispered a heady silence. "But not... not marriage. At least, not yet."
She could see him restraining himself from rolling his eyes, but there was a fondness there too, a hesitant warmth. "You're really going to be that obstinate about all this, aren't you? Just really going to dig in your heels." He shook his head, sighing. "Yea, alright. No marriage. Not that I was going to jump you with a proposal," he added in a low grumble. "But, I still need some reassurances. I can't just... I can't be the only one who bends. Some things need to change."
Suki dipped her head in acquiescence. "I can agree to that."
"Good," Sokka said dryly, "because I've established some ground rules." He pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket.
Suki stared. "Did you make a list?"
"Song said it was a good idea," he said, flushing.
"What are you, a lawyer?"
He flicked his hand dismissively. "That's what I said. But Haru said it helps them stay calm and on-topic." He ran a hand through the tip of his ponytail. "Which, I'd say is something we probably need, Suki. Just let me read it, and you can make your snide comments after."
Her back fell against the back-rest of the booth with a soft 'thump', her silent agreement for him to continue.
"First," he said, clearing his throat, "I love you. I've loved you since practically the moment I met you, Suki, and I don't see that changing, no matter what your parents went through. I'm not them. I'm me- we're us- and we're here, right now. I'm not going to make my decisions based on their experiences."
She nodded silently, biting her lip.
He glanced back down at his little sheet of paper. "Second: if this is what you want, if you feel the same way... I'm going to fight for us with everything I have, Suki. I think I understand you a little better, now, after your explanation. You're afraid that we'll fall away, fall apart." He sighed. "Things get old, Suki, they die. That doesn't mean we should give up now. I pray to the Spirits we never drift apart, but... even if that did happen, I wouldn't regret a second of it, as long as I know that this is what we both wanted and this is what we were fighting for, together."
Suki nodded again, red lining her eyes. "And the third thing?"
He looked at his paper, smoothing it out nervously. "The third thing... well, the thing is, Song kind of made me put this on there... But, she's right. I've promised to fight for you, to fight for us. But... if you can't do this, Suki, if you can't fight or at least have faith that we're doing this for each other, then I'll leave."
She blanched, sitting up from her reclined position.
"That's not an ultimatum," Sokka said, holding out a hand to steady her. "Or, well... maybe it is, a little bit, but if you're not fighting for me, if we're not in this together, then do you really want me here at all?"
Suki froze for a moment, frowning. "I understand," she breathed after a moment. "This part... Toph talked to me about this, a bit."
He snorted indelicately. "Toph?"
"Yea, she was strangely clarifying," Suki said thoughtfully. "She told me I've been trying to win. I've been fighting, instead of growing, or changing, or learning, I guess." Suki laughed dejectedly. "I guess she was right. I can hear it in your voice. I can hear it in your third little bullet point. That I've been too proud to hear you. But, I hear you now." She met his eyes, hers still lined with red, but determined. "I'm only human, Sokka. I can't change overnight. But I want to do this. I want this- all of it- with you. And I'm going to try. I promise, I'll try."
Sokka stood from his seat, walking around the table to sit next to her. He dropped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close, and pressing a kiss against her temple. She leaned into him, her eyes closing as his lips met her fair skin, and before she even knew it, she found herself murmuring, "Come home, Sokka. Come home."
His soft reply was immediate, as if he'd been waiting for her to ask. "I will."
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