Archive of Our Own

“DAAAAAD!”

Hakoda shot a withering look over the rim of his reading glasses as his seventeen-year-old son bounded down the stairs into the living room. He loved his son to the moon and back, but it was also his only day off this week and he’d intended to spend it enjoying a morning of peace and quiet that his job didn’t often afford him. “What is it?”

“I need your help.”

Hakoda looked Sokka up and down. He didn’t look injured, nor did he look particularly upset. “What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”

“No! Nothing’s wrong, necessarily…” Sokka gave him a sheepish smile. “It’s…well, you see, there’s this boy…”

Hakoda sighed and set down the sports section. This was going to take a while.

“…Asian, and so cute, but a little shy, but with a super pretty smile, and weirdly attractive hands? And I think he might have read every book ever written? And I feel like I have a chance because he laughed really hard when I – ”

“Son,” Hakoda interrupted him. He didn’t need all the gory details. “I’m happy that you’ve found someone. He sounds wonderful. But what is it you need my help with?”

“Well, here’s the thing.” Sokka had that same tone of voice he’d used the year before when he broke the news that Hakoda’s car had been totaled when Sokka swerved off the road to avoid a deer. “He works at Barnes & Noble. At the big information desk in the middle. Every Saturday. And I really want to ask him for his number, but it’s super awkward because there’s always this other guy working the information desk at the same time. He’s old, like you.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

“You know what I mean! But anyway, I have a plan.” Sokka’s eyes lit up deviously. “You come with me to Barnes & Noble today when they’re working and distract the old man. And while you have him distracted, I’ll swoop in and get the goods!”

Hakoda sighed again. “And how am I supposed to distract this ‘old man’?”

“It’s a bookstore! Just ask him to help you find a book!”

Hakoda regarded his son warily. Sokka was full of dozens of plans at any given moment, but he wasn’t always the best at executing them. And helping Sokka pull off another one of his hairbrained schemes wasn’t exactly how he’d pictured spending his day off…

Sokka seemed to sense his hesitation, and retaliated with his widest puppy-dog eyes. “Pleeeeeease Dad? You’re always bragging about what a great wingman you are! Now’s your chance to prove it!”

Hakoda did pride himself on being a great wingman. And if it really meant this much to Sokka…

“Fine.”

“THANK YOUUU!” Sokka threw his arms around Hakoda and then sprinted out of the room. “I’m gonna go get dressed and then we can go! Iloveyousomuchyou’rethebestdadever – ”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hakoda called back.

Sokka was fidgety as they pulled into the parking lot. He’d double-checked his ponytail in the sun visor at least three times during the ride over, and now he looked like he was second-guessing his decision to tuck his patterned button-up into his jeans.

“Son, you look fine,” Hakoda told him as he switched off the ignition. “You’re a catch. It runs in the family.”

Sokka laughed nervously, but didn’t respond as he bared his teeth to the mirror and did one last examination for any food in his teeth.

Hakoda watched him fondly. He was reminded of back when he’d been a teenager, nervous out of his mind to ask out Sokka’s mother. It made him happy to think that there was someone out there who’d gotten Sokka this worked up. God knew the kid deserved it.

“Confidence,” he said, reaching over to slap a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Just be confident, and he can’t say no.”

“Confidence. Right.” Sokka grinned and puffed out his chest experimentally in the little mirror. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he unbuckled. “Alright. It’s go time.”

Hakoda had never been to this Barnes & Noble, but Sokka led him through the maze of towering bookshelves to the information desk in the middle of the store. Just like Sokka had said, there were two men working the desk. One, who Hakoda assumed must be Sokka’s target, looked about seventeen, with shaggy black hair and an eye-catching red scar on the left side of his face.

Hakoda barely had time to look at the young man, though, before his eye was drawn to the older employee beside him. He was tall, lean and willowy, with billowing black hair and wideset eyes. He was a little beautiful, Hakoda thought with surprise.

Hakoda felt suddenly self-conscious in his holey t-shirt and sandals as Sokka brought him closer. Maybe he should have changed out of his lounge clothes before coming here?

The two employees had been talking together quietly, but now they sensed Sokka’s approach and broke apart. To Sokka’s credit, the teenaged boy looked pretty stoked to see Sokka walking up to his counter.

“You’re back,” the boy said with a surprised smile.

“Yup,” Sokka said, with a casual air that definitely did not match the anxious energy of the car ride over. “My dad needs a book.”

He looked pointedly at Hakoda.

Right. This was his part.

Hakoda turned and faced the slender older man, so there would be no mistake which employee should help him. The man stared back at him, his eyes dark and expectant and calm.

“I need a book,” Hakoda told him.

The man’s mouth curled up at its corners, just a little bit. “You’re in the right place, then.” His voice was deep, but soft. Gentle.

Hakoda didn’t know what to say to that, so he chuckled nervously. “I suppose I am.”

The man wasn’t laughing, exactly, but there was a quiet humor in the crinkles around his eyes. “Are you looking for any subject in particular?”

Sokka’s plan hadn’t covered this part. Hakoda racked his brain for a believable answer. “Um…”

He felt a little kick from Sokka’s direction under the counter. Hakoda was making this awkward, he knew, so he just said the first thing that popped into his head.

“…World War II.”

Hakoda cursed himself internally. He decidedly did not need a book about World War II – he’d already read all the good ones, anyway – but the man’s smile grew a little bigger at the words.

“We have a history section over here. I can show you.”

The man gestured toward the back corner of the store. Hakoda glanced at Sokka, who gave him a meaningful nod and flashed him a thumbs up under the counter. “That would be great. Thank you.”

Hakoda meant to follow behind the man, but he waited until Hakoda was standing side by side with him before starting to walk.

“So, are you a big history buff?”

The man’s voice was so gently inquisitive that it made Hakoda feel a little naked.

“Um, I’m more interested in military strategy,” Hakoda admitted. “It’s something my father and I used to enjoy together – making little models of the battlefields, and all that. Now it’s something I enjoy with my son.”

There were those crinkles again. “Your son? The flirt back there?”

Hakoda chuckled. “The very same.”

“Zuko has mentioned him to me a few times since he last came in. I’d say he has a pretty good shot.”

Zuko. That must be the name of Sokka’s crush. “That’s good,” Hakoda said.

“So you’re interested in military strategy – did you serve?”

Hakoda felt himself hesitate. He had a complicated relationship with his service. He was much wiser now than he had been as a bone-headed teen looking to get into a fight, and often felt more remorseful than patriotic about that period in his life.

But the man was looking at him without a hint of judgment in his eyes, so Hakoda nodded. “Yes. Iraq. You?”

“Kuwait,” the man said simply. He shook his head. “I don’t miss those years.”

Hakoda felt a rush of relief. “Me neither,” he said.

“What do you do now?”

Somehow, Hakoda wasn’t uncomfortable at the barrage of personal questions. “I’m a paramedic,” he answered. “What about you?”

The man’s playful little smile grew a little bigger, and Hakoda wanted to kick himself. “Shit, I’m – obviously you work here. That was stupid.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the man said kindly. “Truthfully, I don’t really need to work here. But I pick up a shift once or twice a week, just to be around the books.”

“You have another job?”

The man’s eyes twinkled. “I’m a bookbinder,” he confessed.

“A bookbinder?” Hakoda was confused. “I would have assumed they have machines that do that.”

“They do. That’s what makes a handbound book so precious.”

Hakoda wanted to probe further, but they’d reached the history section. There was a big bookshelf dedicated solely to books about World War II. “Now, you’ve been doing this for a while, so I’m guessing you’ve already read a lot of these?”

“I have,” Hakoda admitted. “That’s why I’m looking for something new.”

“I think we have some new releases here that you might not have read yet.” The man ran his fingers – long, slender, graceful – along the spines of some thick books sitting on a shelf too high for Hakoda himself to reach. His index finger landed on one in particular, and he ran it up the spine in a motion that was far more sensual than it should have been and slid it out from between its fellows. “What about this one?”

He passed it to Hakoda. It was thick and hardcover – something about the role of female spies in the British military. The man was right – Hakoda hadn’t read it. “This is…perfect, actually. Thanks,” he said, just a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Of course.”

The man looked at Hakoda, like he was expecting him to say something else. “Um, I guess I’ll just go buy this, then,” Hakoda said uncomfortably.

“I can ring you up. Come with me.”

Like before, they walked side by side back to the information desk in the center of the store. When they emerged from between the shelves, Hakoda could see that Sokka was leaning over the counter with a giant grin now, and the other boy – Zuko, Hakoda’s brain supplied – was looking back at him with a grin just as wide. It seemed like he was totally engaged in whatever Sokka was blabbering on about, but as he caught sight of the two of them approaching, he stiffened. Sokka followed Zuko’s gaze and shot his dad a disappointed look.

“I got what I needed,” Hakoda told him as they approached the counter. “You ready to head out?”

Sokka’s eyes darted between Hakoda and Zuko. Apparently he wasn’t able to scrape together a new excuse on such short notice, because he just said, “…yeah.”

Bato gently removed the book from Hakoda’s hands and stepped around to the other side of the counter. His slim, dexterous fingers entered something into the computer. No wedding ring, Hakoda thought, then shook himself. Why had such a thought crossed his mind?

Hakoda passed the man his credit card while he scanned the book. He swiped it quickly and then bagged the book and a receipt. “Have a good day…Hakoda,” the man said, reading the name off of the credit card.

“You too, um…”

For the first time, Hakoda’s eyes drifted down toward the man’s name tag. Bato.

“…Bato.”

Bato gave Hakoda another one of those barely-there smiles. It made Hakoda’s chest feel tight.

He wrenched his eyes away. “Ahem. Sokka. Let’s go.”

Sokka sighed. “Bye, Zuko” he said mournfully.

“Bye,” the boy said, looking just as sad.

Sokka had perked up by the time they made their way to the car. Once the doors were shut, Hakoda turned to his son. “Well? Were you successful?”

“Yes! Very successful!” Sokka assured him, before his eyes drifted out the window with a dreamy smile. He hummed Super Bass the whole way home, so Hakoda knew he was telling the truth.

If that was the case, it meant Hakoda probably wouldn’t be seeing the oddly beautiful bookbinder any time soon. He shrugged that thought away. Why should he care, anyway?

“DAAAaaad!”

It was Hakoda’s second Saturday off in a row, and the second time Sokka had interrupted his newspaper reading with that I-need-something look on his face. Hakoda stared at him uneasily. “Yes?”

“I need you to take me back to Barnes & Noble.”

“What? Why?” Hakoda asked, sliding his reading glasses off. “I thought you said you were successful last time.”

“Well, I was successful, because I made him laugh again, but I still don’t have his number. You came back too fast!” Sokka explained, shooting him an accusatory look. “So I didn’t have a chance to ask.”

“Don’t you think he’ll catch on to you?” Hakoda asked. “It’s pretty obvious if we try to pull this same scheme off two weeks in a row.”

“Nah,” Sokka said, totally unbothered.

“Well, what do you propose we do differently this time?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Sokka said triumphantly. “See, the flaw in our previous plan was that you picked the history section. Which is, like, just a few feet away from where Zuko works. So I got a map of the store – ”

“Where on earth did you get something like that?”

“Where I got it is unimportant,” Sokka said, fishing the paper out of his pocket and unfolding it on the table for Hakoda to see. “I’ve spent a lot of time studying this. We need to get you as far away from the information desk as possible. Which means you need to ask for something from…the cookbook section!” He landed a finger decisively on the corner of the map.

“The cookbook section?” Hakoda asked. “Don’t people just get recipes from the internet nowadays?”

“The existence of a cookbook section means that can’t be true.” Sokka folded the map back up. “So, will you take me again? Please?”

Hakoda stared him reluctantly. Sokka cranked it up a notch. “Please, Dad? I really, really like him and I can’t do this without you!”

Hakoda sighed. For some reason, the face of Zuko’s handsome co-worker – Bato – flashed through Hakoda’s mind. “Fine. Let me just get changed first.”

Sokka quirked up an eyebrow at that, but he just shrugged in response. “Okay. Meet you in the car!”

This time, Sokka wasn’t so much nervous as he was vibrating with excitement. It must have been contagious, because Hakoda was feeling a little excited too.

This time, Hakoda remembered where the information desk was. Like before, Zuko and Bato were chatting quietly to each other behind the counter. Now, when they spotted Sokka and Hakoda coming, they both smiled.

“Hi,” Zuko said, a little shyly.

“Hey,” Sokka said back, nothing but enthusiasm in his voice as he explained, “My dad needed another book, so we’re back.”

Sokka looked at Hakoda, who cleared his throat. For the first time, he looked the beautiful older man behind the counter in the eye. “Yes. I need another book.”

“Already finished with the last one?” Bato asked.

Hakoda was surprised that he remembered. “Yes, actually.”

“What did you think?”

“It was…really good, actually. Thanks for the recommendation.” He felt a nudge from Sokka and could practically hear his son yelling beat it, Dad! “But, um, this time I’m looking for something different this time.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. A, uh, cookbook.”

Bato’s eyes looked like they were laughing, and Hakoda wondered if he could see right through Sokka’s ruse. Not that it mattered, though; Hakoda’s performance was more for Zuko’s benefit than Bato’s.

“A cookbook?” Bato said. “I think we might have a few of those around here somewhere. I can show you where they are.”

Hakoda looked at Sokka, who flashed him a grin and then an expectant look, one that said I love you, but please leave.

“Thank you,” Hakoda said, turning back to Bato. “That would be great.”

“Come with me.”

Bato stepped out from behind the counter and Hakoda fell in step beside him. They began to make their way across store to the distant cookbook section Sokka had banished them to.

“So, do you cook a lot?” Bato asked him. Hakoda appreciated the way he sounded genuinely interested, even if he was just making small talk.

“I do,” Hakoda answered. “I’m not exactly great at it – hence the need for a new cookbook. I’ve always loved grilling, but I’ve had to take over cooking all the kids’ meals ever since – ”

Hakoda’s mouth snapped shut. Damn it. He really hated being that guy and bringing up Kya in casual conversation. All it did was make people uncomfortable, especially strangers like Bato. But he couldn’t exactly take it back now.

“…sorry. Ever since my wife passed away,” Hakoda finished softly.

For the first time in their short time knowing each other, there was no smile beneath the expression on Bato’s face when he looked at Hakoda. “I’m so sorry,” he said, looking genuinely remorseful.

“It’s okay!” Hakoda said quickly, trying to clear that awkwardness out of the air between them. “I – well, it’s never actually okay, obviously. But it was eight years ago now. So, it’s…it’s okay.”

Bato nodded slowly. “Twelve years ago, for me.”

Hakoda whipped his head around, shocked. So often it felt like he was the only person on earth who’d had to say goodbye to the love of his life so cruelly early. Was Bato like him? “Really?”

“Yes. He was everything to me.” He looked off into the bookshelves, for the first time unfocused on Hakoda. “We never had any children before he passed away. Every day, I wish we had.”

Hakoda suddenly felt a bit guilty, both for broaching the subject and for being so cavalier about bringing his own son into the bookstore. A little unsure of what to do, he settled for laying a hand on Bato’s firm shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Bato turned back to him. The smile had returned to his lips, and Hakoda liked his face better that way. “Thank you, Hakoda,” he said. “As you know better than most, it never gets easier. But now that so much time has passed, he’s become more of a happy memory to me than a sad one.”

Hakoda smiled a little. “That’s how I feel about Kya, too.”

Bato stopped walking suddenly. “We’re here,” he said, smiling at Hakoda’s confused expression.

“Oh. Right. The cookbooks.” Hakoda had forgotten where they were or why they were there in the first place. Remembering that he still had a hand on Bato’s shoulder, he yanked it away awkwardly. The man probably didn’t appreciate extended periods of physical contact from random strangers.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Not really,” Hakoda admitted. “I just feel like the kids are getting sick of the same seven meals over and over again. So I guess I’m just ready for…something new.”

“You’re…ready for something new?”

The look Bato gave him unreadable. The way he repeated Hakoda’s words back to him made him wonder if they were still talking about the books.

“…Yes,” Hakoda said, unsure exactly what he was agreeing to.

Bato’s eyes flicked toward the bookshelf. He perused the selection, stroking his chin thoughtfully with one finger before finally coming to a decision. “Here,” he said, pulling one book out from among the rest. “What about this?”

He handed it to Hakoda. Cooking for Two, it was titled. Hakoda suddenly felt a little flustered – what was Bato trying to say? “Um…”

“Something new, right?”

The earnest look on his face completely disarmed Hakoda. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Um…Okay. Yes. You’re right. Something new.” Hakoda took the book from him, a little hesitantly. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Wordlessly, he gestured back toward the information desk, and Hakoda joined him to begin the long trek back. He felt suddenly awkward again as silence fell between them – should he say something more about the book? Was Bato trying to imply…something? Or was he really just this charming to everyone who stopped by the Barnes & Noble? For some reason that thought made Hakoda feel a little prickly.

Bato didn’t look uncomfortable with the quiet, though. He looked peaceful, casting the occasional smiling glance back toward Hakoda. Each time it happened, Hakoda jerked his eyes away, embarrassed to be caught staring at the man’s broad cheekbones or his soft-looking hair.

Eventually they made it back to the information desk. This time, Zuko was quietly recounting something and Sokka had his elbows on the counter, chin propped up by his hands, clearly hanging on to his every word. Zuko spotted Hakoda first and murmured something to Sokka that made him spin around toward them.

“I’m all set,” Hakoda told Sokka, who looked majorly upset to see him.

“Oh, okay.”

“I just need to buy this…”

Bato was already taking the book from Hakoda’s hands into his own slender fingers. He moved back behind the counter, and Hakoda passed him his credit card once more. Bato scanned the card and bagged the book, handing it all back over the counter to Hakoda.

“Enjoy. I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Bato said as Hakoda gathered it up and turned to leave.

“…Thanks,” Hakoda said. He gave Bato one more long look – just giving himself a second to memorize the curve of his jaw and the shape of his eyes – before he turned back to Sokka. “Ready to go?”

“I guess,” Sokka said reluctantly. He gave Zuko a sad look. “Bye.”

“Bye,” Zuko said disappointedly.

They made their way back out to the car. Hakoda dropped the cookbook into the backseat and sighed. This plan of Sokka’s was getting expensive. “These books are coming out of your allowance, you know.”

“Hey!” Sokka whined. “You don’t even give me an allowance!”

“And this is why!”

Despite Hakoda’s teasing, Sokka seemed to be in good spirits on the car ride home. Hakoda found that he, too, was in an extraordinarily good mood. His eyes kept going over Bato’s face in his mind.

Something new. Yeah. Okay. He could get behind that.

Hakoda didn’t even bother acting surprised when it happened a third time.

“If it’s been this long and he still hasn’t given you his number, have you considered the possibility that he’s just not that interested in you?” Hakoda asked, when Sokka begged him for just one more trip to the bookstore.

“No way!” Sokka said defensively. “He’s interested, I swear! He’s just shy. I don’t want to freak him out!”

“Hmm,” Hakoda grunted. Admittedly, he was proud of his son’s thoughtfulness in approaching this sort of situation. And he didn’t necessarily mind going back and seeing Bato again… “So what’s your master plan this time? I can’t very well tell him I’ve cooked all 650 recipes already.”

“Okay, okay, let me think,” Sokka said, bringing his hand to his chin. “Whenever you go off to find a book with him, what happens?”

Hakoda thought back. “He walks me over to the section. We talk. He suggests a book. I take it. Then we head back.”

Sokka snapped. “Okay! That’s the problem then! You aren’t picky enough!”

Hakoda raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“This time, you just need to say no to every book he suggests. Just go through the whole section and reject every one. That should buy me enough time.”

“Sokka,” Hakoda said. “I can’t waste Bato’s time like that. That would just be rude.”

“Bato?” Sokka asked, confused.

“The – you know, the ‘old man.’” Now Hakoda felt a little embarrassed for remembering his name.

“Oh, I see,” Sokka said. “But look. It isn’t rude. It’s his job to help you find what you want. And no one ever comes by that information desk – I’m telling you, he literally has nothing better to do!”

Hakoda sighed. “I don’t know…”

“Please please pleeeeease! It’s for the greater good! Think of how you’re going to feel ten years from now knowing you were an integral part of the greatest love story of all time!”

Hakoda snorted. “Is that what this is?”

“It could be! If you just help me one last time!”

“Fine,” Hakoda said. “One last time.”

One last time. Seeing Bato. Watching his graceful hands brush over the books and slide them out one by one. Okay, Hakoda admitted, just to himself. So maybe I’m a little more than fine with it.

“Let me just hop in the shower, and then we can head over.”

Sokka gave him a long look. “Sounds good,” he said finally.

This time Zuko and Bato didn’t seem surprised to see them. Zuko was leaning over the counter, staring off into space, when he saw Sokka and perked right up. Bato greeted Hakoda with a raised eyebrow and a knowing little smile.

“It’s good to see you again,” Zuko said softly, smiling up at Sokka from under his dark eyelashes. “You dad needs another book?”

“Yeah, you know this guy,” Sokka said, gesturing toward Hakoda. “Always reading, right Dad?”

“Right,” Hakoda agreed stiffly. He looked at Bato, who was leaning back against a display case with his arms crossed. The corners of his mouth curled up just so, as he waited for Hakoda to ask for his help once more. “Hello,” Hakoda said to him.

“Hello,” Bato greeted him quietly.

“Um. I’m in the market for another book,” Hakoda explained. “This time something about…” He thought quickly. He needed something he could take up a lot of time talking about, a subject he could honestly claim to have read almost every book about.

“…fishing,” he finished.

“Fishing,” Bato repeated back to him, with just the slightest hint of skepticism in his knowing smile.

“Yes.”

“We have a few in the travel section. I think I should be able to find something you’ll like.”

Hakoda felt guilty already, knowing that even if Bato did find something he liked, he’d have to reject the suggestion. “Thanks,” he said.

Like before, Bato came around to the front of the counter and waited for Hakoda to follow him. Hakoda stepped toward him and they moved together, toward the tall shelves marked ‘Travel.’

“Do you do a lot of fishing?”

Just as it was before, Bato’s voice was laced with genuine curiosity as opposed to a mere desire to fill the silence between them. And it was so inviting that, just like before, Hakoda couldn’t help but open up to him.

“Yeah, I do,” he said. “I try to go at least once a month or so. It’s hard to make the time, sometimes, but it’s worth it to get out there.”

“I can imagine,” Bato said, smiling. Always smiling. “And your son? Does he go with you?”

“Yes,” Hakoda said, grinning back. “He isn’t exactly a naturally gifted fisherman, but he tries his best. It’s a good way to spend time with him.”

“Your trips aren’t exactly all peace and quiet, then.”

That made Hakoda laugh, hard. Oh, how Sokka would hate him if he were listening in on this conversation. “No, no they are not.”

Bato’s smile widened at the sound of Hakoda’s laugh.

“Where’s your favorite spot?”

“Kodiak Island,” Hakoda said automatically.

“Alaska?”

“Yes.”

Bato nodded. “It’s beautiful there. I haven’t been for a few years. There’s no other salmon fishing like that in the world.”

“No, there isn’t,” Hakoda agreed. He’d never met anyone else who knew the spot. He had the sudden urge to delve deeper, to learn what other coincidental similarities connected them, but then Bato stopped in his tracks. They’d reached the travel section.

“Let’s see here…”

Bato ran his fingers idly along the spines of the fishing books. They landed on one, and he pulled it out from the shelf carefully. “What about this one?”

He passed it to Hakoda. It was an autobiography, the story of a Yurok man’s journey to enlightenment as told through a series of fishing escapades. It was exactly what Hakoda wanted to read, but he was here for Sokka. “I’m sorry,” he said reluctantly, handing the book back to Bato. “That’s not quite what I’m looking for. Do you have any other recommendations?”

Hakoda felt just as guilty turning down the second suggestion (a how-to guide to fly-fishing) and the third (a history of angling in Nantucket). Bato didn’t get annoyed as Hakoda pushed him for more recommendations. His little smile just grew bigger and bigger – he saw this as a challenge, Hakoda realized.

Bato’s eyes were positively glittering as Hakoda politely declined his suggestion for the ninth or tenth time.

“You know what?” he said thoughtfully. “I think I might have the perfect thing in the back. Would you come with me?”

Hakoda’s brow furrowed. This wasn’t part of the plan, but he supposed it would help buy Sokka some more time. “Alright,” he said.

Bato lead him to the back of the store and through a discreet door there. Hakoda expected to end up in some big warehouse of overflow books, but instead they’d walked into some sort of empty employee lounge. Bato beckoned him over to one of the lockers that lined the wall, and nimbly twisted the lock this way and that until the door swung open. Then he reached in, pulled out a book, and handed it to Hakoda.

The book was heavy. Looking down on it, Hakoda realized that the cover was made out of wood, and it was painstakingly carved with intricate images of fish and ocean. It was stunningly beautiful.

“I just finished it last night,” Bato said by way of explanation as Hakoda struggled to find the words to react.

“I’ve…never seen anything like this,” Hakoda said honestly. “It’s incredible.”

“It’s yours.”

Hakoda ripped his eyes away from the book to throw a shocked look at Bato. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly – ”

“You can. I want you to have it.”

Hakoda’s eyes flicked back and forth between the book and the crinkles around Bato’s eyes. “I – but this must be priceless – I can’t afford – ”

Bato held up a hand. “Free of charge,” he said.

Hakoda couldn’t comprehend what was happening. “I can’t accept this,” he said finally. “I can’t. There’s no way I would be able to repay you for this – ”

“Cook dinner for me,” Bato said immediately. “That would be repayment enough.”

Hakoda ogled at him. He heard that wrong, didn’t he? “Cook dinner for you?”

“Please?”

Bato reached out a hand and rested it, just barely, on the one Hakoda was using to hold the bound book. Hakoda felt rooted in place, totally frozen by the pure warmth emanating from Bato’s dark brown eyes.

“As a…?”

“If you want.”

A million thoughts were swimming around in Hakoda’s brain. Sure, women had showed interest in him before, but he’d never reciprocated their advances. It had always felt too soon, too disrespectful to Kya’s memory. But Bato was a man – perhaps the most beautiful one Hakoda had ever laid eyes on – and somehow he seemed to understand Hakoda in a way that felt rare and special.

“I…I do want that, I think. I would love that.”

Bato beamed at him. “Me too.”

Maybe Sokka does deserve that allowance after all…

As soon as Hakoda and Bato disappeared between the shelves, Sokka practically launched himself across the counter. Zuko met him halfway, just as eager, and the two shared a very not-safe-for-work smooch.

When Sokka pulled away to brush the hair from Zuko’s forehead, Zuko grinned playfully at him. “And when do you plan on telling him we’ve been on three dates already?”

“Oh, he’ll figure it out eventually,” Sokka said unconcernedly. He gave Zuko a quick peck on the cheek. “Let him have his fun for now. I haven’t seen him this happy in a long, long time.”

“I’ve never seen Bato this happy, either,” Zuko admitted, pulling Sokka’s hand to his mouth to give it a kiss before turning thoughtfully toward the shelves. “It would be kind of weird to marry into the same family as my coworker, though…”

Zuko froze suddenly, cheeks turning fiery red as he heard what he’d just said out loud. “Oh my god…um, pretend I didn’t just say that,” he mumbled, covering his face up to hide his mortification.

Sokka felt himself blush, too, and felt his heart begin to beat madly in his chest. He grabbed Zuko’s hands gently and pulled them away from Zuko’s face, forcing him to look Sokka in the eye.

“I don’t think that would be weird at all,” Sokka told him meaningfully. He leaned in for another kiss, and Zuko obliged without thinking.

It was sweet. Soft. Hopeful.

(And it’s possible something very similar was happening in the employee lounge at just about the same time.)