Let me take care of you.

Sokka wanted to scream.

He pulled the last letter he'd received from Pakku out from one of the - many - stacks of papers around him. He sighed and scanned it again, comparing it to what Arnook had written, and what his father had sent - what his father had asked for. . .

Sokka rubbed his face, then muffled a yell into his palms. This was the seventh version of the trade agreement - a minor treaty - he had been trying to help work out between his father and Chief Arnook. It was not that complicated - spirits, it wasn't that fractious, surely they could settle this a little more easily?

Sokka had seen Zuko sign treaties into effect with Earth Kingdom nobility who had been terrorised by and loathed the Fire Nation - with good reason; before, in any case - with far less resistance, fighting, and undermining. This had begun in an utterly reasonable fashion, and nobody was really trying to get one over on anyone else . . . why had it become so difficult.

Sokka dropped all the papers and dropped his head to the desk, groaning loudly.

Then he sat up, sighing again, and dragged a clean piece of parchment to himself, along with the notes he had been taking. And the scribbled over notes from last time. After a moment he bent and hauled open one of his drawers, pulling out copies of all the prior versions of the treaty he had penned as well.

"I will sort you out if it drives me completely mad." Sokka said, pointing at the blank paper. Then he sighed and patted the paper gently. It wasn't its fault, after all.

Sokka rubbed his face. Snow and sea he was so tired.

"Are you sure you aren't already, darling?"

Sokka startled and accidentally flung his ink off the desk when the back of his wrist smacked into it. "Oh, blast!" he burst out, half scrambling for it and then stopping and just collapsing on his desk.

"Oh, Sokka." Zuko rested his hands on Sokka's shoulders, and he groaned. "I'm sure you'll work it out," he said quietly, "but it need not be tonight, darling. It is very late, and you've barely been to bed for three days."

Sokka shook his head without lifting it from his desk. "Busy." he mumbled into the surface.

"Not that busy." Zuko said firmly. Sokka huffed and pushed himself upright, Zuko's hands sliding over his shoulders and squeezing gently at the tops. Sokka dragged one of the earlier treaty drafts towards himself, rubbing at one of his temples as he tried to find the first relevant passage - the beginning few points had been argued completely down or changed entirely out of relevance to the current draft.

Sokka pressed his lips together, catching his breath. The very thought of starting all over with this, again. . .

His eyes ached and burned, and he dropped his brush, closing them and letting out a thin, low sound of frustration. A few tears slid down his cheeks. He was so tired.

"Just let me take care of you." Zuko said, moving until he was standing warm against Sokka's back, right against his chair. "You can work on it again tomorrow, when you've actually had some rest, and your brain wants to function properly again. Tomorrow afternoon." he added, hands sliding down to Sokka's upper arms and squeezing.

"But. . ." Sokka protested weakly, blinking and drawing a deep breath.

"It's nothing this urgent, now is it?" Zuko said coaxingly, drawing Sokka's chair back from the desk. "Come on, let me take you to bed, darling." he murmured into Sokka's ear, nosing at the curve of it gently.

Sokka took another breath, then let it out all in a rush without saying anything, giving in to his boyfriend. He was too tired to fight Zuko over this. Especially when he didn't even want to be working on this stupid accursed treaty.

"That's it." Zuko said, tugging him from his chair and supporting him for a moment when he clutched at Zuko's forearms, the world spinning around him.

"Oh, wait-" Sokka started, trying to pull away, looking back towards the ink now spattered across the floor. "I need to-"

"Let one of the servants take care of it." Zuko said, pulling him back closer. Sokka wavered. Normally he wouldn't even think of it, would clear up for himself - Zuko did the same much of the time, actually, particularly in his study - but. . . "Come on."

Sokka let himself be pulled along, feeling vaguely like he was in a haze and rubbing his hand over his face as more exhausted tears dripped down his cheeks. He sort of heard Zuko directing someone into his study, and tried to thank them, but he wasn't sure if the words actually crossed his lips.

"Maybe I should have stopped working earlier." he admitted faintly as they walked.

"Maybe." Zuko said without inflection, and kissed his cheek. "Almost there. You'll feel better after some sleep."

"Yeah. . ." Sokka wavered and closed his eyes for a few long moments. His vision was going blurry anyway and Zuko's arm was wrapped around his back, he wasn't going to run into anything. His eyes ached even more as he shut them, and he winced.

Zuko's arm tightened around him, and he heard the low, respectful greeting of the guards at their door and sighed with relief as Zuko returned it. Bed. Soon.

Wonderful.

I cannot tell you the number of times I have been working on a story, so exhausted tears just happen without any emotional trigger, and just stay up to keep working anyway because words are still happening for me. . . (I try not to stay up in that condition when inspiration isn't working and it's just a struggle, though sadly I don't have a Zuko to come and put me to bed when I'm silly enough to do so.)