There were no guards posted outside Zuko's rooms. Zuko absolutely refused to have them. He allowed them to skulk in the shadows as was their prerogative and they warded the outer perimeter (though much more loosely than Ozai and Azula had demanded of the palace military), but his rooms were off-limits to guards. When Sokka had asked about this, Zuko told him that it just made him paranoid.

"First, they make me feel like someone's going to try to assassinate me any moment. Second, they make it look like I feel like someone's going to try to assassinate me any moment. And how do you think that looks?" Zuko had shaken his head. "I want the nations of the world to trust me, Sokka, and they won't be able to do that if it looks like I don't trust them. I don't even want them outside guarding the doors, but apparently getting them to hide in the bushes just isn't in their job description."

That was the day Sokka knew, without a doubt, that Zuko was going to be the best Fire Lord the world had seen in a long time. He suspected that between him and Aang, the world would be better than ever in no time.

It was no doubt wishful thinking, but it probably wasn't completely untrue.

Like the rest of the Fire Nation palace, there was nothing plain about Zuko's rooms. The double doors opening onto the chambers were of solid wood, polished until it gleamed umber. The intricate carvings curving across the face of the wood was detailed in solid gold and created an amazing piece of artwork depicting dragons and phoenix chasing each other through delicate clouds laced in gold. It looked like it was lit from within by some invisible fire; the entire surface simply glowed. When Ozai had occupied these chambers, Zuko had found it ostentatious. Now they were beautiful—at least they were after Sokka had stood there in awe of them for fifteen minutes the first time he had seen them.

The doors were left unlocked—there was really no point in locking them, since there really were guards lurking in the shadows and would see anyone trying to sneak in. Zuko pushed them open easily and the moment he stepped into his lavishly decorated rooms the lamps and sconces on the walls burst into flame, welcoming him home. Sokka slid passed him before he closed the engraved doors. Zuko pulled the wolf's helm off and set it gently on a small table near the door. He locked them once they were inside and Sokka paused in the middle of trying to, unsuccessfully, pull the heavy gold-trimmed mantel off his shoulders. Zuko noticed his quizzical expression and he shrugged self-consciously.

"I don't like thinking people can walk in on me while I'm getting dressed." Zuko blushed when Sokka raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"Nothing." Sokka chuckled and shook his head, resuming his futile struggle to remove the mantel. "It's just…you're the Fire Lord. Add to that the fact that you're young, attractive and single. There are people who would probably kill their grandmother to see you naked."

Zuko's blush deepened and Sokka couldn't help but laugh. His laughter subsided quickly when he realized the look on Zuko's face wasn't one of embarrassment—it was one of shame. Sokka frowned and ceased his struggle with the useless ornamentation draped across his shoulders.

"Hey, what is it, buddy?" he asked, taking a step closer behind him. He rested a hand on Zuko's shoulder—a gesture they had become comfortable with since their little life-changing field trip (as Toph still insisted on calling it). They both saw it as a comfortable mark of camaraderie that Zuko appreciated more than he let on and one that Sokka had missed more than he realized. Aang and Katara were always hugging him, but sometimes the simplest gestures were the sweetest. "I wasn't laughing at you, you know."

"I know." Zuko's voice was soft and he stared without seeing at some invisible spot on the inside of the closed doors. "It's just…I know what you mean. About everyone…out there. Mai was the same way—though she was too proper to ever admit it. There are women out there who just see me as some…stud they want to breed with. But then they really see me and…they're disgusted. And then they leave."

Sokka frowned.

"Disgusted?" he asked, shaking his head. "Of what?"

"Of me." Zuko murmured his voice so low that Sokka could barely hear it. Sokka shook his head and was about to tell him that he didn't understand what the boy meant, but then stopped himself. He suddenly realized he knew exactly what he meant. Boy, did he feel dense…

The first time Zuko had been shirtless in front of their little band (at least the first time they had seen him up close without his shirt) there had been a stunned silence. Zuko had ignored it with the dignified determination of someone who had dealt with that sort of reaction more times than he could count. But for Sokka and the rest of Team Avatar there was no ignoring the patchwork of gleaming burn scars that climbed like vines down Zuko's left side, dwindling off just above his waistband. Like his face, the rest of his body was perfectly unmarred, save for the random scars usually picked up by boys in their youth. This only made the burn scars stand out, however, permanently pointing out how beautiful the boy had once been and how easily it had all been taken away from him. Zuko had never mentioned that he disliked their staring, but Sokka could see in his face that the reminder branded into his skin of his father's abuse and his imagined treachery was something that haunted him still.

So he had stopped staring. Zuko never mentioned that, either, but he seemed to become more comfortable around Sokka after that.

"Well, that's…stupid." Sokka shook his head, suddenly angry at all those people out there murdering their grandmothers right now for something they wouldn't appreciate anyway. Angry at that bastard, Ozai, for destroying his son's confidence. Angry at Azula for being a crazy bitch who didn't help matters at all. Angry at himself for ever staring. Angry at everyone but Zuko—who he just wanted to engulf in a great, big, unmanly hug but knew the young Fire Lord would never go for it. "You know, anyone who sees you and says their disgusted isn't really seeing you, Zuko. You are more than just a man with scars. Anyone who doesn't see that isn't worth knowing."

Zuko stayed focused on the door, his face turned so that his left side was toward Sokka. Sokka learned that Zuko did this on purpose. Though he seemed to forget about his expressions when no one was looking, he was very aware of them otherwise. And when he didn't think he could control them to his satisfaction, he would hide them in some other way. Usually by keeping the side of his face capable of less expression turned like a guard mask against anyone who would try to see passed it.

"Zuko, what's bothering you? I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. I was just teasing…" Sokka chewed at his bottom lip, mentally running through conversations he had had that day with Zuko and trying to find anything he might have said to shove him into such a self-pitying mood. Zuko remained focused on the door and Sokka sighed, pulling his hand away to give Zuko some space. He walked a few paces away and resumed his struggle with the mantel while giving Zuko time to gather his thoughts. He seemed to prefer peace and stillness when thinking and though Sokka wasn't really good at being quiet in any situation beyond hunting, he could at least give the older boy some room to breathe. In fact, he even tried to be quiet, at first, but eventually gave up.

"You know, Zuko, I say anyone who says anything nasty about your scars is a jerk. And not like a Jerkbender Jerk, but like a real dick jerk." Sokka grunted as he got some leverage beneath the mantel and began to lift. Fuck, the thing was heavy. How had he gotten it on in the first place? Oh, right, Toph… Spirits, Zuko was strong as an ox if he could wear this on a regular basis. But, then again, it hadn't bothered Sokka while it was on and Zuko probably had big, burly attendants help him pull it off.

Which made Sokka suddenly and unexpectedly jealous, so he forced the thought away with a violent upward heave—with no success. Bloody hell, it was probably caught on something…

"I say that your scars aren't ugly at all." Sokka continued, more to himself than to Zuko, who probably wasn't listening anyway. The running dialogue was more to distract himself while he pushed at the damn gold mantel—something he made a mental note of never wearing again. "In fact, they're kind of sexy. Not that you probably think that, but why would you? But, anyway, with or without the scars you're a sexy hot guy. And, like I said, you're more than just a guy with scars. I mean…you're Zuko. You chased the Avatar around the world because it was something you believed in. Even when everyone probably told you it was a stupid waste of time, you did it. You're selfless and brave and smart and more honorable than the entire Fire Nation put together. You're Firebending rocks, your skills with a sword are just…awesome. Not to mention you're incredibly hot and anyone who looks at you, knowing all that, and still doesn't fall madly in love with you is a fool—ha!"

Sokka gave a triumphant shout as he shoved the mantel off and watched with a perverse sense of satisfaction as it thunked to the ground. Then he realized he had probably just dented the hell out of some expensive piece of Fire Nation finery.

"Sorry about that." Sokka mumbled as he nudged the thing with his foot. Still looking down at the mantel—perhaps to make sure it didn't try to leap back up onto his shoulders—he unclipped the crimson cloak and let it fall to the floor, leaving him dressed in the blessedly more-comfortable-now-that-that-thing-was-off robes of the Fire Lord's royal outfit. "But you have people who can fix that, righ…oh."

Sokka trailed off as he looked up, finding himself face-to-face with a Zuko dressed comfortably only in the under layers of the wolf armor and who had, apparently, been listening very attentively.

"Do you mean it?" Zuko asked. He had given up on trying to hide his emotions. His good eye was wide, almost pleading. Sokka swallowed. He hadn't heard the Fire Lord move and finding himself so close to the unbearably attractive teenager was something more than he had been ready for.

"Which part?" he asked slowly, wanting to make very, very sure that he did misunderstand any part of the conversation that was probably about to take place.

"All of it." Zuko's voice almost broke. Sokka noticed that he was trembling even though the room itself was warm—and he had never known Zuko to be cold before, even when trapped in a freezer for a few hours. His hands were fisted tightly at his side, but he kept clenching and unclenching them as if unsure of what to do with them. Sokka couldn't remember ever seeing Zuko like this.

Sokka swallowed. He kept his gaze on Zuko's face, on those burning gold eyes. On the need that he suddenly saw so plainly there. On the uncertainty and aching loneliness. On the hope and desire and love that made those eyes shine. He found he didn't trust his voice. Instead, very slowly, he simply nodded.

He was expecting some sort of reaction, but he was still caught by surprise when Zuko's hands were suddenly grabbing his loose collar and pulling him against his lips. Sokka umphed in surprise, but was quick to react. He twisted his fingers in the familiar material of his own shirt and pulled Zuko against him. The teen groaned and opened his mouth against Sokka's, who eagerly took the invitation and licked inside his mouth, tasting him. Zuko shuddered against him and sucked at his tongue, at his lips, trying to draw Sokka closer without ever breaking contact. Sokka responded and tentatively rolled his hips forward. He felt the heat of Zuko's growing erection through their layers of clothing. Their groans matched as their hips met, grinding uncertainly against each other and then with more conviction as their desire built into something new and exciting and hot.

Forced to breathe eventually, the two broke their kiss gasping, but they couldn't seem to keep themselves apart for long. Zuko began shoving at the robes flowing around Sokka's shoulders while Sokka, biting and sucking at the base of Zuko's neck, pawed at the hem of the Water Tribe shirt. Once again they were forced apart only long enough to rid themselves of robes or shirts, flinging them aside without any regard for where they landed.

By now Sokka's own erection was almost painful as it strained against the fabric of Zuko's borrowed pants and he was grateful of his playful decision not to wear underwear that night. He couldn't imagine how Zuko felt—especially since Sokka new that those pants fit a bit tighter than the ones he was currently wearing. He would just have to help the poor boy out.

"I sure hope you have a bed here somewhere." Sokka gasped, raking his fingers down Zuko's chest in his quest for the ties he knew were securing his pants. Zuko grunted something inaudible before he began blindly shoving at Sokka—not away, but backwards, towards the bedchamber just beyond the next doorway. Knowing it would take too long to get there if they were stumbling over each the entire time, Sokka pulled away. Zuko looked startled until Sokka took his hand and tugged him after him.

"Come on, Jerk." Sokka murmured as he pulled him toward the bedroom. He slipped to fingers into the hem of Zuko's pants and tugged him closer. "Time to get those pants off."

"Sokka…" Zuko let the name tumble from his lips and the hair on the back of Sokka's neck stood on end. It was like a prayer spoken by a drowning sailor, knowing they would be the last words he ever spoke. The words went straight into Sokka's heart, settling there and warming him from the inside out. The word was bursting with a thousand emotions. Sokka had never heard his name spoken that way before and it nearly sent him to his knees.

Instead, Sokka leaned forward and pressed his lips against Zuko's, kissing him gently. The passion was there, the desire, but the need was tempered. He let his fingers trail softly along Zuko's flat stomach and rested his forehead against Zuko's. Zuko was breathing heavily, but he was clearly trying to get it under control. Sokka smiled and laid a hand flat against Zuko's cheek, letting his fingers rest just along the edge of the scar. Zuko raised his eyes then and found himself gazing into the deep, bright, cerulean eyes of the boy—of the friend—that he had fallen in love with.

"Zuko." Sokka whispered, like a sigh, trying to match the intense emotion packed into such a simple sound. He stroked his face and kissed him again, so softly that Zuko almost didn't feel it, except that his skin was almost unbearably sensitive right now. "Zuko."

They stood like that for several seconds, half-naked and alight with desire, but reveling in the feeling of simply holding each other. Whatever was going to follow would be amazing—Sokka had no doubt of that and could hardly wait to find out—but, even so, he would have happily given everything he owned to make this moment last forever. Feeling Zuko in his arms, the Firebender's natural heat soaking into his bare skin, Sokka thought there wasn't a person on this planet that was happier than him right now.

Well, maybe one other person.