Chapter Text
The crew’s reaction when they appear in the doorway of the mess hall is… mixed, to say the least. Some people tense up, as though expecting a physical blow, but others seem to realise things aren’t the same as they were yesterday. This is confirmed in short order when Zuko smiles, tentative and small, and waves apologetically.
“Hi everyone,” he says, an undertone of embarrassment in his voice. “Long time no see.”
Everyone is silent for a few moments. Then the scrape of a chair alerts them to somebody standing up, and they turn around to see Nezuko, tears running down her face and her eyes red. “You idiot,” she says, her lower lip quivering.
Then she pulls him into a bear hug, smiling and laughing. Fire Flake wriggles out of the collar of his robes to lick at the tears on her cheeks, his little nose twitching curiously.
Sokka hangs back, watching as one by one, the crew members come to greet Zuko. They’re like parishioners paying their dues before an alter, each one offering a hug or a pat on the back. Even Lieutenant Jee, who has the most cause to be angry at him, gives him a manly shoulder squeeze and a serious look. That’s pretty much a love confession, coming from him.
Finally, the crowd parts, revealing Uncle Iroh, his face wreathed in smiles. He takes Zuko’s hands in his and just holds him there, his eyes red.
“My boy,” he says, his voice hoarse. “It’s good to see you again.”
Zuko hugs him, fiercely and immediately. It almost knocks him off his feet, but he stands firm, hugging him back. Then he reaches a hand out, gesturing to Sokka to join the hug.
Sokka hesitates for only a few moments, before he steps into his embrace, allowing the old man to envelop him in his arms. He can feel Zuko’s heart beating against his chest and smell the faint scent of jasmine, which is a soothing combination if ever there was one.
Finally, the hug disintegrates, leaving all of them standing on their own once more. Zuko is smiling and touching the scarf around his neck, which hides the rather large bite mark Sokka left on him earlier. He feels a jolt of embarrassment go through him, before he remembers that Uncle Iroh isn’t a mind reader. Probably.
“Come, come,” the old man says, gesturing to the barely touched meal on the mess hall table. “I’m sure you’re both famished, after all of that.”
Sokka hopes he means their reading session and not the stuff they got up to afterwards, because otherwise he might as well end it all now.
He takes a seat, feeling a lightness in his chest that he hasn’t felt in ages. Suki bumps his shoulder with hers, smiling kindly at him, which feels so achingly familiar that he almost tears up. It’s easy to forget that they all have responsibilities when they’re all together like this.
“Hey,” Suki says, something impish in her tone. “Congratulations. I see you put my training into practice.”
Sokka chokes on the sip of water he’d just taken, glaring at her like a stepped on cat. He’s not sure how she even figured that out, but it probably has something to do with the dreamy, contented look Zuko still wears. He’s smiling and talking to Nezuko, his thumb tracing patterns on the side of his glass, which probably looks like post-subspace contentment to Suki’s well-trained eye.
“Don’t talk about that,” he hisses, glancing around to see if anyone heard. “Ever.”
Suki laughs, but she lets it go for now. She leans her elbows on the table, smiling at him in a way that feels more genuine than before.
“I really am proud of you,” she says, which sends a jolt of unwelcome feeling through him. “You didn’t give up, even when it was hard. That’s impressive.”
Sokka takes a sip of his drink to hide his blushing, wondering when he became so weak to this sort of praise. Zuko has always been the one who needed it, but he supposes they both came from broken homes. Zuko’s mistreatment was just more… extreme.
“Well,” he says, clearing his throat. “He’s worth it.”
Suki’s gaze drifts to Nezuko, who’s feeding Fire Flake bits of spicy cucumber and giggling like a schoolgirl. Her gaze softens, her own cheeks growing slightly pink.
“I know what you mean,” she says, sounding a bit wistful.
Sokka smiles, resisting the urge to tease her back. He has a feeling if he tried, she would upend the entire contents of her glass over his head.
He spends the next half an hour in pleasant conversation, eating his weight in pan fried noodles. There’s beef in there, which is great, and also a distinct lack of cabbage. Maybe the ones he bought at the market have finally been used up.
Just as he’s eating the last of his food, the temperature seems to drop a few degrees. He thinks nothing of it at first, but the distinct crack of thunder makes him pause, his eyebrow raised. It was a balmy evening not two seconds before, so this is an unexpected change.
Shrugging, he chalks it up to a summer storm. It happens sometimes, in tropical climates. The flash of lightning outside the porthole is even soothing, as if it’s their own personal light show.
Then he smells the distinct scent of ash. He’s used to it by now, being around firebenders 24/7, but this is different. This is cold, and angry, and smells like the bottom of a fireplace after you’ve forgotten to clean it out.
A figure appears in the doorway, lit briefly by a flash of lightning. Sokka almost thinks it’s Zuko for a second, but Zuko is sitting across from him. Then he notices the gold headpiece and painted lips, the topknot that isn’t a hair out of place.
This isn’t Zuko. This is something altogether more terrifying.
The figure pauses in the doorway. Smiles. She seems to be waiting for something, counting down the seconds in her head as she waits for the expected response. It’s chilling, because for a moment, Sokka sees his past self reflected back at him.
Slowly, Zuko turns around. His shoulders have gone tense, his hands curling into fists to hide his stimming. Sokka realises, suddenly, that that’s what his aggression has been, all this time. A coping mechanism, because letting people see his true self had only been met with pain.
“Azula,” he says, his voice a shut door. “What are you doing here?”
Azula. Sokka remembers that name, from that conversation they had after their encounter with Zhao. Zuko’s sister, with whom he has a complicated relationship. He’d rather been hoping he’d never have to meet her.
“Is that any way to talk to your sister, Zuzu?” Azula says, affecting an air of hurt. “Honestly, I’m surprised at you. What would Father say?”
Sokka winces. She really knows where to hit him where it hurts, which he imagines didn’t help with Zuko’s trust issues when he was growing up.
“Just say what you want, Azula,” Zuko says, his voice tense. “As you can see, we’re busy.”
Azula smirks, obviously enjoying the reaction. She runs her hand over the metal paneling on the wall, clearly possessive. Sokka recognises the action, because it’s something he used to do to Zuko when he was trying to get a rise out of him.
“What makes you think I want anything?” she says, sounding almost bored. “Can’t I visit my own brother without being accused of having ulterior motives?”
Zuko is becoming visibly annoyed, which is probably the intended result. Sokka almost steps in to give her a verbal smackdown, but he stops himself. This is Zuko’s fight, and as much as he wants to rescue him, he has to respect his autonomy.
“Fine,” Zuko says, deciding to humour her. “Why have you decided to visit me, then?”
Azula takes another step forward, her shoes clacking coldly on the metal floor. She leans over Zuko’s chair, the action clearly intended to intimidate him. He stays seated despite the power play, the only thing giving him away the hard set of his jaw.
“Because, dear brother,” she says, leaning down to whisper into his ear. “I know where your precious Avatar is.”