Sokka touched him.

It was strange. Sokka was strange. Good and bad. Everything and nothing. It set Zuko's nerves alight. Soon enough, he'd explode like the fireworks in Ba Sing Se.

"What's going on in your head, eh?" Sokka said, disrupting his thoughts. He sat down next to him, on the good side, not quite facing forward. Sokka always sat at an angle when they talked, so his face was in Zuko's eyeline and his lips were readable. Zuko wondered if it was a strange form of kindness or if his hearing had bothered them. Zuko didn't know if he was supposed to notice and so tried not to think about it.

Sokka peeled an orange. His hands were more calloused than they should be at his age. He pressed his thumbs into the centre before removing the peel, then broke the fruit into halves and then quarters-

"Here." Zuko blinked. A segment of orange was being offered to him. He took it and bit into it, liking the texture on his teeth, and then took another and Sokka smiled and knocked their knees together. Zuko wanted to crumple into ash.

"I was just admiring the view," Zuko answered instead, wrenching his mind away from the touch.

Sokka hummed, his voice not yet deep enough to rumble but soothing nonetheless. "Homesick?"

"Never," Zuko lied. No need to arouse suspicion in those who scarcely trusted him anyway.

"Well, I am," Sokka shoved a segment of orange in his mouth, "I miss the cold. Though I supposed that sounds pretty foreign to you, eh?"

Zuko didn't respond, too focused on the way Sokka's throat moved when he swallowed. Friends were a storm at sea; scary to navigate. Zuko didn't want to mess up more than he already had.

Sokka seemed to notice his hesitation, had a knack for those things, and his hand shifted, four fingers, to push at his knee again. Zuko flinched.

Zuko could fight several men, twice his age, and win without sweating. Zuko could bend fire, could communicate with it like old friends, could flow it between his fingertips, smooth as butter. But these mundane conversations. The ones that required him to read in a way they did not teach him, to respond in kind, to pass the conversation back and forth and not let it drop less he caused offence.

Zuko was drowning in the words.

"I like the sun." Simple, tentative.

Sokka just hummed, kind as always. They fell into a silence.

Sokka sought him out.

"Would you like to train?"

Zuko flinched. Harsh training was the only reason his sword didn't clatter to the ground. He brought it up, pointed it towards the intrusion on instinct before pulling away just as quickly.

You threatened him.

Sokka didn't seem to notice, or did but didn't care. Drew his sword, sleek and black and deadly. Then grinned . Kind and playfully challenging. The type of grin that should never come close to the weapon he held.

A moment. Zuko realised he'd been asked a question and pulled his eyes away from Sokka.

"Yes."

Zuko hated that longing. Hated looking at Sokka and feeling. Wanted to beat those thoughts out of himself so they would fester no longer. Zuko drew his sword, positioned it, practised and poised and everything he didn't quite feel.

Clash.

Almost a whirlwind. Exhilaration and adrenaline. A and B, fire and ice. The normality of it made Zuko fall apart at the seams.

Sokka had this kind of unique grace about him, a sing-song mix of technicality and rogue. The muscle memory of a man well trained but the smile of a boy just figuring it out as he went. Strange. Made Zuko's muscles flex in a way that almost bordered on a challenge.

A few more clashes. Zuko allowed himself to fall into the familiarity. Felt his body weld to the sword like metal under heat. Simple and ready and unfeeling. His body was a weapon, straining under burning heat but not warping, never.

His foot caught on something, sweeping his legs out from under him and sending him tumbling, a muscular arm the only salvation from the hard stone. Sokka was cool, quenching burning flesh and leaving it hardened, stronger. Zuko gripped his arm back, just below the elbow, and didn't burn because this touch was fine.

"Hah! I think I win," Sokka said, letting go once he balanced Zuko on his feet. "So? Whatcha think? Water tribe kid takes on the future Fire Lord. That's got to go in some history book, right? Quick, write it down before we forget-"

Zuko let his rambling fade to the back of his mind, too focused on the heat Sokka's hand had left on his forearm.

Sokka noticed.

He'd glance down at him, his eyes all warm. Ask him how he was and mean it. It made Zuko's heart beat fast against his ribcage. Made worse by the way he weirdly enjoyed it. Would grip the warm positive attention in both hands and hold it close and squeeze. Like a drowning man clinging to stray driftwood.

Zuko was a parasite.

Azula had said it once. Quick, no hesitation. She'd spat the words like they left a foul taste. And Zuko had stammered a retort before running, sobbing, wrapped up in Mothers robes and rocked.

He rocked now. Rhythmic . Back and forth as his good eye glazed over and his bad eye shut completely, taking in the expanse of land over the cliff edge. It was night time. His companions slept a deliberately wide distance away.

He missed Uncle. And a strange part of him missed home. Or at least what was home. Zuko pulled his knees closer to himself, resting his arms on them, and circled his right fingers over his left wrist in a tight grip.

Back, forth, back, forth.

Parasite.

Zuko didn't deserve to feel sadness. Not after all this. He needed to atone. To end this war. No ugly thoughts of friends or companionship should exist. For long or ever. He tried to fool himself into pretending he didn't care for it. He was alone. Deserved to be-

Sizzle.

Zuko pulled his hands away. Eying the burning fingerprint on his wrist with his lip between his teeth. It was hardly the first time he'd burned himself. But each unnatural sting of fire from fingertips reminded him of who he was and what he deserved.

He must've been staring at his hands for too long, because he heard shifting and then footsteps approaching. Zuko tried to stifle a flinch because weakness wasn't tolerated.

"Can't sleep?"

Sokka. With a blanket around his shoulders and his hair loose about his forehead.

The other boy sat beside him, on the side without the burn, crossing his legs. Then he reached up, all muscles, and tied his hair back while Zuko tried not to stare. It was longer on the top and short on the sides. Zuko wanted to run his fingers against the fuzz because he remembered the texture was soothing. Sokka pulled two framing strands loose over his face, and Zuko wondered if his hairstyle had a meaning to his people but didn't quite know how to phrase it.

Sokka was odd.

Not in a bad way. Not in the way he suspected, or the nasty notions spat by Fire Nation generals with hatred in their hearts.

Sokka was kind, strong. If they lived through this mess, he'd make grand stories to tell.

That he'd speak to Zuko, of all people, was odd.

"Yeah."

Strangely truthful. A bit dejected. Sokka gave him a quick glance. That soft look that made him want to burst into flames.

"I get it, I think. If my thoughts were as loud as yours I'd probably lose sleep too," Sokka grabbed the blanket that had pooled around his waist and his tone slipped from joking to this resigned sort of serious, "We'll end this, y'know. And it'll be alright."

Zuko wondered how he could possibly be so sure.

So he hummed in response. Not sure if Sokka even wanted one. Conversations were tricky puzzles, difficult to decipher. "Did you… need something, Sokka?" Zuko's fingers wrapped tight around his wrist again at the unintentionally sharp tone.

"Oh, yeah, just wanted to pass you this."

Sokka's hands came up. Something shadowy flew into his field of vision and Zuko flinched hard. But it settled as fast as it came. Zuko blinked and realised the blanket had been tucked over his shoulders.

Oh.

"Don't stay up too late, alright?"

Sokka walked away before Zuko could stammer a thank you.

Sokka was kind.

Katara talked through some plans. Larger than life. Her hands flowed with her, like water bending when not. Smooth as silk. She demanded attention and respect.

Zuko watched through half-lidded eyes, attention only minutely on her. Disrespectful.

Sokka sat on a rock above, and Zuko was curled between his legs on the floor. Twitchy but comfortable enough to ignore the quick glances from Aang. Hyper focused on the calloused fingers in his hair.

Braiding.

Sokka was braiding his hair.

Some small ones in the back. A few thicker ones toward his ears. Sokka had conjured up some beads from somewhere deep within his backpack and scattered them throughout.

Zuko should have said something. Should have spoken up long ago. Politely mentioned Fire Nation rules, diplomatic and easy, as he gently nudges Sokka's wandering hands away and explaines the cultural significance of Sokka being so touchy. His father would hate this. Would strike him for it. The thought was jolting and scary and yet-

He didn't.

Chit Sang eyed him.

He didn't.

Sokka finished up as Katara finished speaking. Squeezed Zuko's shoulders before leaning over him, his body weight over his back in a way not scary or looming. He reached down, muscles around Zuko but not squeezing, and took his wrists, one in each hand. Only then alerting Zuko to the fact that he'd been rubbing them raw against each other.

"I like this look on you," Sokka murmured after a moment, his chin on Zuko's shoulder in a warm sort of embrace that maybe Uncle would give. And then he let out a little laugh, just a sharp exhale through his nose, no smoke or heat. The world felt scarily real and fake simultaneously. The guilty part of Zuko hoped it was real.

He left the braids in.

Sokka was grounding.

Zuko was panicking.

His heart was galloping in his chest. It hurt. The pent up frustration, remnants of failure, was building out and steaming from his fingers.

Zuko was crouched into a corner, hands clasped over his ears before thoughts of you're better than that haunted him just enough that he clasped them into his lap instead, fingers circling wrist.

Zuko burned. Then brought his wrist to his mouth and bit down to hold in a scream.

He was frustrated at himself, at his actions, at his very being. Boiling in self hatred, hot as the moat at Boiling Rock and sizzling him up from the inside out.

"Hey?"

Zuko went rigid, wrist still between teeth, facing the wall. A part of him hoped that if he says nothing they'd go away.

The steps were so loud and slow and deliberate. Approaching him and sitting with their back to his, mirroring. Sokka.

Zuko couldn't tell if the silence was worse than the shouting. He wanted to scream until the building collapsed around him. Wanted to light himself on fire and let the rest burn.

"You're alright," Sokka said, back still against Zukos and not looking at him. It made Zuko angry because it was a lie. He tore his fist from his mouth and slammed it into the concrete wall, gritting his teeth when his knuckles bled.

"You're alright, man." Again. Zuko wanted to be bundled up in Uncle's arms and he wanted to run away. He couldn't do either, not now.

Sokka shifted, squatted next to Zuko instead of behind him, grabbed his wrists with those big, rough hands. "Stop burning yourself." Zuko didn't know he was.

"Go away," he said spitefully, childish and not caring, "I don't want you here so go away!"

"I want you here," Zuko stopped fighting, Sokka held his wrists but didn't touch the burns, "I want you here and Aang wants you here and Toph wants you here. Even Katara does, in her own little way. So let us care."

Zuko started crying, then. A weakling. And Sokka reached forward and pulled his head to his shoulder until Zuko's vision was enveloped in blue. Zuko wrapped his arms around him and gripped him. Smelling Sokka. Feeling Sokka. Clawing at his clothes to hold him tighter. The noises that escaped his throat were raw and choked and noisy. Zuko was ashamed of them.

Sokka's hand was on the back of his head. His body swayed side to side. Zuko wondered if he'd done this for Katara at some point. Then tried to shake that thought because it made him feel guiltier.

"I'm sorry," he said. And it felt right so he repeated it. Over and over and over.

Sokka was his friend.

"Those look sore."

Zuko shrugged. "They itch."

The Fire Lord had been defeated. Peace restored.

And now they were lounging on the grass in the Fire Nation Palace grounds.

Zuko had been so distracted, he'd allowed his wrists time to heal. The skin weeping and pink rather than angry and burnt.

Sokka bit his cheek before rummaging through his backpack. He pulled out a waterskin, and some pale thin cloth.

"May I?"

Zuko thought it strange that he would ask.

There was a silence as Sokka bandaged his wrists, clean and precise. Sokka was focused on his task and a cowardly part of Zuko was thankful at the lack of eye contact.

Sokka focused on one hand at a time, holding it carefully and examining the damage. He frowned at old scars, eerily similar to the current wounds in size, shape and placement. Zuko couldn't bear it so he clamped his eyes shut.

Sokka misinterpreted it. "Am I hurting you?"

"No."

"Look at me."

"No."

Sokka sighed. Zuko couldn't quite read the tone and it panicked him because this must be it. It was done. There was no reason for Sokka to talk to him. Sokka would finally walk away. And this strange little one sided relationship he'd made up would crumble like ash in his hands.

Sokka was silent.

Zuko got there first.

"You know…" Zuko started and then paused, trying to calculate the perfect equation of words that wouldn't result in punishment or pain. "You don't need to talk to me. If you don't want to, that is."

"I want to." Sokka said, looking up from bandaging Zuko's wrists. Simple, quick and kind, albeit a bit exasperated. As if he was the easiest person in the world to like.

"Why?"

"Because you're my friend."

A statement. No room for question. Zuko felt confused.

"But I-"

"You're my friend, Zuko."

Zuko blinked at him. Thoroughly convinced the world must've tilted, and he'd landed in some different reality where 'Zuko' and 'friends' could coexist.

"Do you like being friends with me?"

Sokka took the question easily. Caught it in both hands and threw it back. "Uh, yeah, of course I do."

Zuko felt his heart pick up, but not in a terrified way.

"I liked it when you braided my hair. It felt nice."

If Sokka cared about the abrupt subject change he didn't say. "Is that so? Heh, when you're Fire Lord you'll have people to do that for you."

"I want you to do it." Zuko realised he'd missed the joking tone after the words passed his lips.

Sokka laughed and then smiled. Zuko could watch the way the sun tinted his skin all day. He wanted to hold the image of Sokka in both hands and never let go.

"That's fine."

Zuko's chest swelled. Fine, safe, alright. He reached forward and grabbed Sokka's hand in his own before any trained social norm could stop him.

Sokka gripped back. Everything all at once. Seemed to sense the way he felt before his body identified it. "You're alright, Zuko."

End