Work Text:
Zuko and Sokka had been together for eight months and twenty-three days when Zuko made a miscalculation, and forgot to leave Sokka's apartment before midnight.
"Babe, I think it's too late to leave now. You should just stay over, it'll be like a slumber party," Sokka paused, thinking, then laughed. "But like, way more gay."
Zuko was standing in the doorway to Sokka's room, watching Sokka take off the button-up and skin-toned binder he'd worn to the nice restaurant they went to earlier that night. From where Zuko stood, he could see out the window, over the countless buildings and people and trees and the way the guaranteed freezing wind blew snow and cold and misery over Toronto. Leaving was, absolutely, not the wise choice.
Still, he felt himself itching to go grab his coat and run as far away from that bed as possible.
It was a Full, absolutely enough for two adults to fit comfortably. The comforters, taunting as they were, looked warm and inviting. The pillows were fluffy, and Zuko's neck ached. The smart choice would be to strip and lay down, give in to the bone deep exhaustion that always came after dealing with people in public. To curl up, next to his wonderful, sweet, funny, perfect boyfriend, and listen to his heartbeat until their breathing evened and dreams came.
The smart choice is staying , Zuko said to himself, over and over. The mantra didn't make him feel any less trapped and unsafe and terrified.
Sokka doesn't know. He isn't trying to make you scared. If he knew, he'd understand.
But would he?
Zuko trusted Sokka. Zuko trusted Sokka. Zuko knew (But do I, do I, do I) that Sokka doesn't want Zuko to feel unsafe. He knew that Sokka… loved him. As hard to believe as that was. He knew Sokka did everything he could to be good for Zuko, which really wasn't much. Sometimes, when Zuko's freed from inhibitions, from one inebriation or another, he tells Sokka about the times he lays in bed, alone, and thinks about how perfect a person Sokka is until he wants to puke.
But (and there it was, that ever-present but ), but. There's still a part of him that is so used to malice and joy in harming that when Sokka ( unintentionally, it's not on purpose (but, but, but, but)) does something that makes Zuko unhappy or unsafe or angry that makes him think, for a split, guilty second about running away. That makes him think about giving up on the joy and love and brightness Sokka gives him, free of charge.
He never does. The second he registers that thought, he wants to cry. A world where Zuko doesn't have Sokka is not a world he wants to live in.
Sokka, seeming to recognise something in Zuko's expression, walked up to Zuko (still not wearing a shirt) and put his hands on Zuko's shoulders. Looking him right in the eyes, too. Recipe for disaster.
Zuko should really remember to tell Sokka to not touch him when he's stressed.
"Zuko, baby. What's up? If Katara told you I snore really loud, she's lying and trying to sabotage our relationship." Normally, Zuko adored Sokka's ability to treat almost everything casually. But now it just didn't feel as nice as it usually did.
Sokka must have seen something definitely embarrassing happen on Zuko's face. Concern filled his eyes, drawing his eyebrows together and mouth downward. Fuck, Zuko hated that face on Sokka. It just looked unnatural.
"Yup, definitely."
This decidedly did not make Sokka look any happier, which. Great boyfriend-ing, Zuko.
"I just. I'm not that tired, is all." Zuko tried to placate again. Sokka looked less wrong at that, but the worry was still there.
I want to go home, Zuko tried to say. I want to leave and go back to my apartment. I want to leave . But the words wouldn't come. So, he stood in the doorway and did nothing but stare at a stupid, meaningless bed while he felt Sokka's hands slip from his shoulders, squeezing his arms on the way down, and walking back over to his dresser to find an appropriate sleep shirt.
It's not the idea of sleeping next to Sokka that makes him so scared. It's the idea of sleeping near someone, period. Nowhere to run when you're in the same bed.
But Zuko loved Sokka and Sokka… loved Zuko, and Zuko trusted Sokka and Sokka said he trusted Zuko, so he started undoing his belt.
He won't hurt me became Zuko's mantra as he continued to strip. Sokka handed him an oversized crop top, reading "Graph paper? You must be plotting something." Despite the anxiety bubbling under his skin, Zuko found it in himself to laugh. Sokka looked over and smiled, though worry still tugged at the lines in his face.
He won't hurt me, Zuko thought, as he pulled back the sheets and situated himself under them, laid awkwardly stiff staring at the ceiling as Sokka continued to do things Zuko couldn't quite process.
He won't hurt me, when Sokka finally finished up whatever he was doing and laid down next to Zuko. Sokka turned his head, looking to Zuko with his perfect smile, and elbowing him. Zuko tried very hard to smile and laugh and be normal.
He won't hurt me, as Sokka finally fell asleep with the door open, like a freak , and his even breaths should've been a comfort but they were just reminders that Zuko was not alone and therefore not safe.
Eventually, though, Zuko must have passed out. He'd have to, to be able to jolt awake like he did.
The exact details were hard to remember, but it had something to do with fire and screaming and anger and people in his bed, people watching him, never being alone but being so, so, so lonely.
He didn't sit up with it, that only happens in the movies. He blinked awake, curled up with panting breaths and sweat coating him, despite the immediate chill from the room. He wasn't facing Sokka (small blessings), but he turned over to find him still sleeping peacefully, mumbling, fingers twitching slightly.
The sweat, which had started to dry, mixed on the pillow with his drool, was getting to him. He got up as carefully and silently as he could, cursing at how cold the floor was, then checking to make sure Sokka didn't wake up from the noise. He hadn't.
Zuko walked over to the bathroom, avoiding every floorboard he could remember was creaky.
As he washed his face, he found himself tempted to leave. Write a note, or a text, something about how Uncle had suddenly gotten worried and asked Zuko to come home. Or Azula, needing someone to comfort her after a nightmare. Something, anything, to make sure he didn't have to go back to that bed.
Zuko stared at himself in the mirror. He and Sokka had been together for months, and maybe it was depressing or codependent or dangerous, but Zuko had never been happier. Not when Father got lifetime without parole, not when Uncle got to open a second Jasmine Dragon in Brampton, not when Azula was deemed stable enough to move back in with him and Uncle. Nothing compared to how Sokka looked at him. Nothing compared to the unimaginably huge gift Sokka had given him, one that Sokka didn't even seem to recognise as big. The gift of his time, his smile, his… his love.
Zuko didn't trust easily. Before Sokka, he trusted three people – Uncle, Azula, and Mai. He also occasionally trusted Aang, which proved to be the most fruitful investment of his life. When Aang walked into their study spot at the library tugging along a beautiful girl and the most breathtaking being Zuko had ever seen, he had a shit-eating grin like he knew exactly what he'd done.
Zuko remembered all of this while he stared directly at his scar.
Sokka said he still found him beautiful. Sokka said that it's a sign, a reminder of how strong and brave Zuko is, to have gone through something so terrible and lived and loved again. Sokka said he didn't love Zuko despite it, but because of it, because it was another part of him.
Zuko loved Sokka. That's a simple fact, written in the stars. Nothing could change it. Nothing could make Zuko love him less. Nothing could make Zuko feel more safe sleeping next to him.
Zuko shook his head and wiped the rest of the water off with a washcloth. He loved Sokka, and would try for him. Plus he hated the cold, and his coat was never thick enough. He loved him too much to leave with only a note, and far too much to leave without one.
So Zuko left the bathroom, still avoiding the creaky boards, looking straight at his feet. As he got back to Sokka's room, looking back up, Sokka was sitting up in bed staring at the door Zuko had just come through.
Fear seized his heart instantly, as much as he wished it didn't. He won't hurt me, Zuko reminded himself. Sokka is safe, Sokka loves me, he is safe.
Sokka's arms were folded, legs crossed. He didn't look mad, just worried. Somehow, that was almost worse.
"I'm trying like, insanely hard to not sound possessive and insane when I say this, but." Sokka said, uncrossing his arms and leaving forward. "Why'd you get up? Did something happen?"
Zuko was wearing nothing but a crop top and boxers, and Sokka lived on the 8th floor. Those were the only reasons Zuko didn't immediately jump out the window and start running.
"Bathroom. Woke up randomly and was super gross, so." Zuko noticed how he was fiddling with his hands, and immediately stopped himself. But then his hands felt awkward at his side, so he brought them together again.
"Are you sure you woke up randomly? You seemed really stressed earlier, and I let it go cause I don't wanna push you and you seemed like you really didn't wanna talk about it, but if you're having nightmares or something I really would like to know what's going on." Sokka's voice was careful, enunciating the words like he'd thought very hard about what order to put them in. He patted the bed just in front of him, and Zuko, loving Sokka and wanting to give him anything he wanted, sat down in exactly the place Sokka gestured to.
"I. I have… a lot of issues." Zuko started, looking anywhere but Sokka. The space between them, the wall beside his head, the posters of electronic bands, the window. "I-I mean, you knew that. Of course I have issues, my dad's insane and my mom's gone. Of course I'm screwed up. Whatever."
Sokka nodded encouragingly, and reached for Zuko's hand. Zuko jerked away like he'd been- ha. Like he'd been burned .
"Sorry, I just. Would rather not be touched right now. If that's okay." Zuko snapped his eyes between the bed, the wall, the posters, the window, and rubbed his hand. It didn't hurt, just hummed. It felt weird, electrified, but not in the good way. Like touching an outlet when it shocks you.
"Zuko, sweetheart, of course that's okay. Whatever makes you comfortable." He won't hurt me , Zuko thought, and knew, knew, knew, knew.
"Thank you. I just. I don't feel… safe, sleeping next to people. Never have, not since," He gestures vaguely at his body, not even sure what he was referring to. Burn scar (Father), knife scar (Azula), other knife scar (Mai), or the countless bruises his body has forgotten but his mind never can. Sokka nods like he understands, though. "I promise it's not you, Sokka. It's just. It's just me."
Sokka was still looking at him, hands folded in his lap like he was in school. He nodded along, humming when Zuko stopped speaking, then, "I'm sorry."
Zuko finally looked him in the face, confused. "Why are you sorry? You're the only factor in this situation I trust."
Sokka looked confused, too, at Zuko's words. "I'm sorry cause I didn't offer to call an Uber for you? For not looking closer at the time? I know you don't like to sleep over, and I'm sorry for not taking that into account, Zuko. I'm sorry, and I love you, and I'm happy you told me." Sokka looked like he wanted to grab Zuko's hand again, to rub at his knuckles, but he didn't. And that, more than anything, finally calmed the buzz of anxiety under his skin.
"Love, it's okay. I want to get better, and I want to spend time with you, as much as I can. I want to do this with you and feel safe. I want to be what you need in a partner-"
"Zuko, baby, sweetheart, you already are what I need. You're funny, and laugh at my jokes, and wear my clothes," At this, Sokka looked down at the crop top, hands twitching again like he wanted to grasp at Zuko. He still didn't, though, and Zuko's heart melted. "But more than that, you're you, Zuko. That's all you need to do for me to love you. Not sleep next to me, not have sex with me, not touch me if you don't want to. Nothing else, baby. Nothing else."
Zuko still didn't feel like he could touch, but he knew if he did, he'd throw himself around Sokka at that.
Zuko nodded. "Thank you, Sokka. I love you. So, so much."
"I'd say it back, but you already know I do, don't you?" Zuko laughed wetly at that, and nodded again.
"Now, do you want to call an Uber? Wait, do they respond at," Sokka checked the clock, sitting on the nightstand next to a cup of water. "3am? They'd have to, cause like, nightclubs and whatever, right?" Sokka asked, smiling that perfect smile, and jerked his head to the left. "Whatever, even if they don’t, I'll totally jack Katara's car. I know enough about driving, what's the worst that could happen?"
He won't hurt me.
"She'll kill you. And… I think I'm okay. As long as the door stays closed, and some white noise is playing, I should be okay." Zuko really, really wanted to hold Sokka's hand. So he reached over, and did, and felt the last of his anxiety die.
"Okay. But can you promise to wake me up if you feel like you have to go?" Sokka squeezed his hands on the last word, and Zuko felt like he had to cry.
"Yeah. Yeah, I promise."
And as they fell back asleep, connected only by their hands, Zuko had one thought.
He loves me.