Chapter Text
Floating empire
Held up by fraying wire
I will cover you in winter, like a blanket by the fire
And when the rent is too high
We'll just buy cheaper wine
And hang on to see if whether
Constellations hold together or not
- "Brooklyn" - The Midnight
Time with Sokka has a way of moving at a funny pace. They say time flies when you’re having fun, and Zuko can attest to that. Before he knows it, it has been nearly four months since Sokka became his interim Ambassador for the Southern Water Tribe, and it feels like the time has passed in the blink of an eye. Sokka slots into place within the Fire Nation capital almost effortlessly, making huge strides with meetings with other Ambassadors and Ministers and the rest of his staff. And in between work, the water tribesman somehow finds time to regularly spar with Zuko, help him with mundane paperwork and sneak him out of the palace regularly for their frequent trips to Blue Spirits. Sokka seems to be everywhere that Zuko looks, and… well, it’s everything he never knew he needed.
But time is flying by. Before he knows it, it has been four, then five months, and Zuko knows that eventually, Sokka’s temporary position will come to an end, and then… and then what? Will he just go back to Republic City? To the Southern Water Tribe?
Zuko tries not to dwell on that too much. He already has enough to worry about. The last thing he wants to fret over is how much time he has left here with Sokka. Even if time seems to fly by.
But that’s just the thing. Time passes quickly, but at the same time, it sometimes feels like it screeches to a halt whenever he spends time with Sokka. When they’re sparring in the blazing heat of the afternoon sun in the courtyard, time seems to slow as he tracks, memorizes, categorizes, the way that Sokka moves with grace and ease, dodging his swords and pinning him to the ground, sweat dripping down his forehead and his neck and down into the collar of his shirt, asking breathlessly-
“Do you yield?”
Time moves in slow motion as he gazes up at Sokka, watching the way his chest heaves with exertion, the way his arms look, tanned from the summer sun and shining in sweat, strong and sturdy and -
“Zuko?”
Zuko shakes himself out of his reverie, his gold eyes meeting Sokka’s concerned blue.
“Yeah,” he breathes as the world seems to start spinning once more. It feels like whiplash, like waking from a dream, confused and out of sorts. “Yeah, I yield.”
And Sokka only spares him a quizzical look for what feels like an eternity but in reality is only a split second before a wide grin stretched across his face and he offers his hand.
“You’re getting rusty,” he teases, elbowing Zuko playfully after pulling him to his feet.
“No,” Zuko mutters, nudging Sokka back with his shoulder. “You’re just getting better.”
“Aww Zuko,” Sokka throws an easy arm around his shoulders in response. “It’s about time you admit it.”
And that’s just how it is with Sokka. How it has always been, really.
Evenings spent wandering Caldera’s markets after they’ve donned low-key discuses and ditched Zuko’s guards seem to speed by at an alarming pace, only slowed down when Sokka smiles dazzlingly at Zuko when he finds a cool belt, or a nice new bag, or a sweet new pair of shoes at one of the many shops, and screeching to a halt when the low summer sun catches his cheekbones at just the right angle, or when his hand brushes against Zuko’s as they walk together. Time speeds by as they make their way through the market, picking meat off of the same skewer and attempting to wind down after a week of grueling trade meetings or long discussions with the head of education.
But then there are the mornings that they spend together, drinking tea in the kitchen or out on the patios near the dining hall or even out in the garden or in the soft light of Zuko’s chambers when he’s too exhausted or overwhelmed to leave just yet. Those mornings seem to stand still, they seem to feel sacred, untouchable. It doesn’t matter if they sit idly chatting while Sokka draws or Zuko rewrites notes for their next meeting. It can be twenty minutes or two hours, but time seems to slow and stall on those mornings together, and Zuko wouldn’t have it any other way.
Judging by the soft smile on Sokka’s face most mornings, he wouldn’t either. Or, at least Zuko hopes.
And sure, there are other moments where time seems to slow down, moments that aren’t just shared between Sokka and Zuko. Long meetings seem to drag on for hours and Zuko constantly has to stop himself from checking the time in hopes that it has sped up at all. When the rest of the gang comes to visit about three months after Sokka makes the transition to interim Ambassador, time seems to speed by too fast and Zuko finds himself wishing that he had more time to spend with his best friends and chosen family.
But Sokka is the constant. Evenings with Sokka in the garden, sitting by the turtle duck pond, seem to settle on a place outside of the laws of time and space. Hours tick by in a matter of minutes. Mere minutes seem to stretch for hours as the two of them talk about everything and anything, or nothing at all.
So yeah. Time doesn’t work with Sokka in the palace. It speeds up and slows down and leaves Zuko feeling disoriented more often than not, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. And he can’t help but dread the day that Sokka will leave. Because he has to leave eventually.
But that’s just it.
Sokka doesn’t leave. Four months go by, then nearly five, and while Zuko thinks that the dreadful day that Sokka leaves must be creeping up on them, it just… doesn’t happen.
Then, one day, almost exactly five months after Sokka first arrived in the fire nation, Zuko receives a letter from the Southern Water Tribe, and he tries to contain his excitement as soon as he reads the message, informing him that Keno will be staying home indefinitely to care for his mother. Suddenly, he feels like a teenager all over again, because there’s a chance that Sokka might stay for a bit longer.
If he wants to, that is.
“Guess that means you’re stuck with me!” Sokka exclaims after reading over the letter himself later that afternoon, a wide grin spreading across his face. And Zuko knows that he shouldn’t be happy about Keno’s situation, and he shouldn’t be worried that Sokka won’t want to stay, but -
“Are you sure you want to…” he finds himself asking, then trailing off, “I mean, you don’t need to commit to - I know this was just temporary, and -”
“Hey,” Sokka interrupts, throwing an easy arm around his shoulders, pulling him close, “I’m not going anywhere. I like it too much here.”
And Zuko can’t help the way that he flushes slightly in response, feeling himself warming under Sokka’s touch. “Yeah?” He finds himself asking, hopeful, as if Sokka just told him that he likes him too much to leave.
“Yeah,” Sokka repeats. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that to get rid of me.”
And so suddenly, the time that had been hurtling by at an alarming pace seems to just… still. With no end date looming just out of sight, and with Sokka insisting that he’ll stay as long as Zuko will have him (which Zuko can’t admit out loud would be forever) things seem to mellow out a bit. They fall into a comfortable routine, and time settles, when it doesn’t feel like they’re quickly approaching a finish line. Sure, late nights at Blue Spirits and afternoon lunches and occasional trips to the market with Sokka seem to go by faster than he’d like, but time seems to even out a bit, once Zuko realizes that he isn’t leaving anytime soon.
And it feels nice.
He can’t remember the last time - if ever - that he had a close friend around so consistently. Maybe Mai when she was still living with her mother, before she decided to start her own life with Ty Lee? Maybe when Sokka, Aang and Katara spent a few months living in the capital, when assassination attempts were at their peak all those years ago?
Or… Oh. Or, it was Suki. Suki, who acted as Zuko’s own personal guard for years after he took the throne, who quickly became one of his best friends and most trusted confidants...
Has he really been that lonely since Suki moved on to Republic City? Has it really been that long since he had a friend around?
The thing about time, as Zuko has learned throughout his life, is that regardless of how slow or fast it seems to be moving, it stops for no one. It didn’t stop for a thirteen year old Zuko, newly banished, trying to make sense of his place in the world. It didn’t stop for Aang, even if it seemed to, when he was trapped in an iceberg for one hundred years. It didn’t stop for their group of friends in the years after the war, as the world began to heal. And it didn’t stop even after Suki died, even if it felt like the world came to a screeching halt. Even if grief made it feel like it should have, because how could the world just keep turning when their own personal world felt like it stopped?
Time stops for no one, and because of that fact, it feels like no time at all before it has been nearly four years since Suki was taken from them. It has been nearly four years, but Zuko still remembers exactly how he’d felt, exactly where he’d been standing when he first read that letter from Katara. He remembers how excruciatingly slow the trip to Air Temple Island had felt, how he nearly drove himself mad while anxiously watching the horizon, waiting to see the small speck of land appear amidst the vast ocean. Despite how much time has passed, he still remembers Katara’s face when she greeted him, still remembers the sad silence of sitting outside that night with Aang.
He still remembers the first time he saw Sokka after Suki’s passing, and how he already looked like a changed man.
Time didn’t stop, but those moments still feel stuck in time, burned into Zuko’s memory.
Nearly four years have passed, and as Uncle had told him, the grief hasn’t gotten any smaller, but they’ve all grown around it, in some way. It’s still there, still very much a part of all of them, but time, ever moving, thankfully, has brought some healing. It hasn’t made it easy by any means, but it has made things easier.
Four years later, Zuko can now remember Suki with happiness and longing, rather than anger and grief on most days. He can tell stories and laugh with his friends without completely breaking down afterwards. But that doesn’t mean that the grief is gone, and it doesn’t mean that it’s always easy.
Especially as the anniversary of her death draws near.
Especially for Sokka.
Sokka is Zuko’s best friend, so Zuko clocks it immediately when the other man’s demeanor shifts as the date approaches. While most people would think nothing of it, Zuko notices when Sokka starts burying himself in work more than usual. Zuko knows, because it’s Sokka’s way of coping - he busies himself with work to have some semblance of control over the things in his life that he can change as a means to deal with the things that he can’t .
Just a few weeks out from the that date, Zuko takes notice of Sokka’s late nights in the library and full days holed up in his study, as well the nights he spends locked in his room when they’d usually be out sparring or frequenting their favorite little hole in the wall bar in the city. Although Sokka is doing better, and although time does tend to smooth out rough edges, it doesn’t necessarily heal all wounds, not completely, and Sokka is no exception. He doesn’t ask for help, and he doesn’t mention it to Zuko, because that’s not who he is, but Zuko notices - because that’s who he is.
It isn’t until the fourth anniversary of Suki’s death looms on the horizon that Zuko realizes that he hasn’t been there on that date over the past three years. He would have come, if his friends had asked - he would have been there in a heartbeat - but how would one even begin to ask someone to travel halfway across the world just to be there on a difficult, heartbreaking day? So as the date draws near, Zuko can’t help but wonder how the past three years have been for Sokka. He knows , obviously, they talk about it all the time, but they don’t necessarily talk about this date.
Did Sokka hole himself up in his room back in Republic City, as well? Did he pull away from his friends and family when it became too much?
Did he need someone there for him, to pull him out of his head and remind him that he is loved on the anniversary of quite possibly one of the worst days of his life?
As time ticks by and the date approaches rapidly, Zuko considers writing to Katara and asking for her advice, but ultimately decides against it, because as soon as he starts to think about what he could do to be there for Sokka, it hits him.
He remembers a time, nearly ten years ago, when Sokka was there for him when he needed it the most, when Sokka knew what he needed long before he did. He remembers a night when Sokka barged into his room and insisted that he take an impromptu vacation to Ember Island, and what followed was probably one of the best weekends of Zuko’s life. Sure, they went on “vacation” in order to catch assassins, but Zuko knows that Sokka has always been a strategist. He knew that Zuko needed that time away more than they needed to catch any would-be killers.
And now, Zuko has the opportunity to repay the favor.
He just hopes he’s making the right call.
Once Zuko made all of the arrangements, he just has to tell Sokka, and it’s stupid, really, but he can’t help but feel a bit nervous about it. He tries to exude the same carefree attitude that Sokka had when he barged into his room all of those years ago and demanded that he pack a bag within the hour, but it’s hard. He doesn’t understand how the other man had been so confident back then - how he’s still always so confident - and he can’t quite get the attitude right.
So instead, Zuko simply decides to take the advice that his Uncle would likely give him and… be himself.
Which is terrifying and nerve wracking all in its own right, and he really shouldn’t be so nervous, because it’s not like he’s asking the man out on a date, he’s only asking him to drop everything and come on an impromptu trip during quite possibly one of the most difficult times of the year and…
Yeah, he’s overthinking it.
But, the arrangements are made, meetings have been canceled and schedules have been cleared, so there is no backing out of it, now.
The door to Sokka's study is cracked open when Zuko approaches it late one evening, lantern light spilling out into the dimly-lit hallway, so without a word, he lets himself in, only alerting the other man of his presence with a quiet knock on the doorframe as he leans against it.
“Fire Lord,” a smirk finds its way onto Sokka’s face as he takes in Zuko’s faux-casual presence, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
It’s always like this with him - either jokingly too formal or a casual arm thrown over his shoulders, a hand slipping into his own, a friendly pat on the back. It’s enough to give Zuko whiplash some days, and enough right now to make his cheeks heat with embarrassment at Sokka clocking body language almost immediately.
But Zuko didn’t come all this way to back down or pretend that he just came by to say hi, so in lieu of telling Sokka that he’s working too late or asking if he wants to spar or telling him to get some rest, he asks -
“How long will it take for you to pack a bag?”
And he absolutely thrills at the way that the question so clearly catches Sokka off guard. The other man completely abandons the paper and pen in front of him to turn more fully towards Zuko, confusion falling across his face. “What?”
Zuko, in return, sticks to the script that he had planned out in his head. “For about… three nights,” he continues, as if Sokka weren’t looking at him like he just grew another head. “How long would you need?”
Quickly, however, the confusion on Sokka’s face morphs into worry, then fear, and shit, that’s not what Zuko was going for.
“I - Zuko, what’s going on?” Sokka asks, standing from his desk, “Is everything okay? Did -”
“Woah, woah, wait -” Zuko raises his hands in a calming gesture, taking a few steps further into the study. “Shit, sorry - this isn’t how I wanted - I mean, I planned -”
Zuko stops, takes a deep breath and starts over, even as Sokka watches him, clearly still half-worried and half-amused.
“What was it that you called it before? Bro’s trip?” Zuko asks, and it only takes a split second before a look of realization dawns on Sokka’s face, which then turns into a hesitant smile. And there it is. “Yeah. That’s happening. Come on, pack a bag.”
Zuko is sure that Sokka is going through emotional whiplash, judging by the journey that his face goes on, but he seems to recover quickly, because before long he’s laughing and telling Zuko, “You know I can’t just leave, right? I have meetings, I - have work and -”
“I cleared your schedule,” Zuko interrupts with a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest.
And he can’t help but revel in the way that Sokka nearly sputters in response, clearly caught off guard. “You - but - you can’t just -”
“I can and I did,” Zuko retorts, pointing towards the hairpiece that still sits atop his top knot. “Fire Lord.”
Sokka huffs in response, clearly not actually annoyed, except maybe a little put off that Zuko actually managed to do something spontaneous for once, and he didn’t see it coming. “But -”
“It’s fine,” Zuko insists, because this trip is supposed to help Sokka unwind, relax and let go a little, not stress him out even more. “I already had all of your meetings rescheduled. You have the next four days off, and if you don’t start packing soon, we’re going to end up wasting one of them.”
And it’s then that Sokka finally just… deflates. For a split second, time seems to stand still as it so often does when the Water Tribesman looks at him like he is right now, before finally , his body seems to relax and a tentative smile spreads across his face, lighting up the room more than any lantern could ever hope to.
“Alright, fine,” he says with a soft chuckle, “Where are we going?”