Chapter Text
"ghost in the machine: a phrase used to emphasize the problems associated with Cartesian dualism, in which the mind is seen as a nonphysical entity (a “ghost”) that somehow inhabits and interacts with a mechanical body (the “machine”). See: mind-body problem."
"Can you distract me from all the disaster?
Can you touch on me and not call me after?
Can you hate on me and mask it with laughter?
Can you lead me to the ark? What's the password?"
- SZA - Ghost in the Machine
Sometimes Sokka thought that Yue had been right after all– Ember Island was such a small, isolated community that one day every single one of the inhabitants of the 110 square mile island were going to crack and go completely insane.
“It’ll be carnage,” she’d said all those years ago, bright blue eyes flashing with humor. “Think about it– this place is one spicy bit of gossip away from completely imploding on itself. Everyone’s going to snap one day, watch.”
It had been a joke at the time, but nowadays he thought that it might have been a premonition.
Sokka had always loved Ember Island and its tight-knit community. He had grown up knowing every single one of his neighbors, from the people that lived there year-round to the rich summer residents who came like clockwork every time the weather warmed and left to return to their ‘real lives’ at the end of each season. His first– and only– job had been at his parent’s restaurant, The Wolf Cove, where he’d learned how to deep fry a lobster whole and shuck twenty oysters in under a minute by the age of twelve. Sokka had never known anything other than warm, expansive blue skies, sandy beaches, and glittering ocean water stretching all the way out to a distant horizon. He’d always considered himself lucky for it.
Now it all felt like a noose looped around his neck, tightening more and more with each passing year as the island became more claustrophobic. The change had occurred so gradually Sokka hadn’t even noticed it happening, hadn’t noticed it until he could no longer breathe in fully.
Ember Island was the same place it had always been, though. The beaches were the same, the locals were the same, the summer residents were the same year after year. Sokka’s family and friends were the same. Even the menu at The Wolf Cove was the same as it had been when his mother had stood behind the hostess stand, smiling and waving at every customer that walked through the door like they were all close, personal friends.
Sokka would have thought the island was stuck in a loop of some kind if he couldn’t read the signs of time passing in his own body. He felt it in the mornings when he laid there trying to muster up the energy and motivation to force himself out of bed. He felt it at night when he fell against his mattress, so exhausted his mind felt numb, every joint aching in its own unique way. He saw it in the mirror, in the crows feet that had gathered at the corners of his eyes and the frown lines marked between his brows. He saw it in his friends and family when they looked at him with a pity that they no longer bothered to hide.
Every day it felt as though the island got just a little bit smaller. Sokka figured it was just a waiting game to see when it would suffocate him completely.
“Lobster roll and a haddock for table seven!”
The baskets landed in the window in front of Sokka. He snagged them, peering through the gap and into the kitchen, where Ming had gone back to examining the clothesline of tickets strung behind her.
“Hey.” Sokka waited for her to turn back to him before grinning hopefully. “What would you do if I told you I forgot to ring in a fried calamari for table eight? Like, ten minutes ago?”
“Kill you,” answered Ming in a flat voice. Sokka flashed even more teeth at her, and she rolled her eyes. “Calamari on the fly!” she called over her shoulder. On the other side of the kitchen, Pinu waved a set of tongs in acknowledgment as he lifted a steaming basket out of the deep fryer.
“I love you,” Sokka said through the window.
“Yeah, yeah.” Ming flapped a towel in his direction, her dark eyes severe. “Go, you’re making my food cold.”
Sokka hefted the baskets up to prove he still had them and spun around. It was a Friday afternoon, which would have been busy enough for The Wolf Cove if it hadn’t also been the second week of June. The summer season had officially started on Ember Island, which meant every inch of the island would be crawling with warm weather residents and tourists from now until Labor Day. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing– in fact, it was objectively a great thing for his father and all the other business owners on the island– but it meant that Sokka had a lot more customer service pizzazz to fake.
He kept his smile plastered on as he wound his way through the tables. The interior of The Wolf Cove had always reminded Sokka of what he thought the inside of a pirate ship would look like, with polished, gleaming wood everywhere and all sorts of ocean-related decorations hanging on the walls, from anchors to paddles to framed pictures of the island’s fishermen over the years. Bright pop music courtesy of one of his sister Katara’s ‘clean’ work playlists piped through the speakers, while through the large windows the ocean reflected the sunlight back at them. It was a gorgeous day, but Sokka was glad he’d gotten an inside section instead of the patio; Anori’s face was flushed a deep red as she swept past him and headed towards the kitchen, beads of sweat on her temples. Yeah, Sokka would sacrifice the extra tip money for the air conditioning.
He dropped the baskets of food he was carrying off at the appropriate table and then circled back around to the bar. Aang was flying through the pile of tickets in front of him, pouring and mixing and garnishing at the speed of light while still managing to find time to talk to the customers seated in front of him. He’d rolled his shirt up to his elbows, showing off the matching sleeves of symmetrical dark ink swirling up his arms.
“Y’know, I do need that mojito today,” Sokka said conversationally when Aang had served the drink he’d just finished and turned back to his work station.
Aang shot a look at him. “You’re hilarious.” He dropped a few mint leaves in the bottom of a clean mixer and picked up the muddler. “First rush of the fucking season, huh?”
Sokka propped his elbows on the bar and watched Aang crush the leaves. “You mean my favorite national holiday?”
Aang snorted. “I thought we were supposed to get holidays off.”
“Not us!”
“Never us,” Aang said, holding the bottle of rum up in Sokka’s direction like a toast. Sokka grinned and glanced around to get a sense of where everyone else was at. It was busy, but they were used to busy, and despite the general air of chaos The Wolf Cove worked like a well-oiled machine. Katara was at the host stand (or the nucleus of their little operation, as Sokka liked to call it), taking phone calls and greeting guests and generally keeping everything afloat. Anori, Zo, and Tai were all on the floor with Sokka today, so he didn’t have as nightmarish of a section as he could have, and all of his tables were in a good spot right now. The whole situation definitely wasn’t as tragic as it could have been.
“So I was thinking,” Aang said, rattling the cocktail shaker next to his ear.
“Oh, god,” Sokka sighed, already knowing where this was going.
“I think if we just gave Momo and Appa one more shot–”
“Dogs and cats just don’t like each other, Aang, that’s like, their whole shtick. Quit trying to force your dog to be friends with my cat.”
Aang poured the finish drink into a clean glass and garnished it with a sprig of mint. “Our cat." He was pouting a bit as he handed the drink over to Sokka.
“My cat,” Sokka said with emphasis, “is not going to be tortured by Appa again.”
“They were playing tag!”
Sokka rolled his eyes. “You have three new tickets,” he commented as he turned away. Aang cursed and spun back around to the bar’s computer, already grabbing the cocktail mixer to rinse it out.
Sokka dropped the mojito off at table four, whose sole occupant seemed to be living entirely off of raw oysters and happy hour cocktails, then hit the kitchen again to check if they needed more runners. It was easy to fall into the flow of things when it was busy like this. Despite how tiring it was, Sokka had to admit it was nice to switch his brain off and just slip into auto-pilot. After years and years of this, all of it was second nature– chatting with his tables, remembering orders, sprinting from one corner of the restaurant to the other without encountering any major collisions. It was mindless work at this point.
“Sokka!” Katara waved at him from the host stand as he passed.
Sokka pivoted to head in her direction. “Kat-attack.” He drummed on the side of the wooden stand for the sole purpose of making her scowl at him. “What’s up?”
“I need to run to the office to switch out Aang’s drawer– he’s out of change,” she said. “Can you watch the host stand for a sec?”
Sokka pushed his spine very straight and saluted at her. “Like a hawk!”
She made a face at him. Her hair, pulled back into a tight braid, was frizzy and damp from the humidity and all the hustle and bustle. “Like an employee is good enough,” she said over her shoulder as she turned and walked away.
Sokka slid behind the host stand, glancing at the computer. They still had a handful of reservations today, but they were all for later this evening. Sokka was working his usual double, but Katara always forced him to take at least an hour off between shifts. Maybe once his remaining tables closed out, he could take off early for his mandated break and be back in time for the eight-top table at five.
The front door opened and Sokka glanced up to see Zo struggling to push her way through with the stacks of dirty plates she was carrying. Sokka swung around the podium and hurried to grab the door for her, holding it open far enough for her to slip in. She carried a rush of hot, wet air with her.
“Thanks,” she said gratefully.
“No prob, Zo.” She had a small stack of menus tucked under her arm, so Sokka snagged them and said, “I’ll put these away.”
“You’re the best person I know.” Zo hefted the plates higher and walked away, expertly diving back into the crowd to weave her way through to the kitchen.
Sokka walked back to the host stand, peering closely at a stain on the plastic cover of the menu on the top of the stack. He scratched at it with his thumbnail– eugh, dried aioli– and didn’t realize that someone else had been walking quickly in his direction until they slammed into one another.
“Fuck!” Sokka dropped the menus, sending them cascading to the floor. He didn’t fall over, but it had been a hard collision, and it took a second for him to snap out of it and realize that he’d just run into a customer. “Ah, shit– I mean, shoot– I mean, are you okay? I’m so–”
The words died in his throat when the other person looked up. It was incredibly jarring– Sokka recognized the scar, of course, and the bright gold eyes staring back at him, but the rest of his face was completely transformed from what Sokka remembered. Years ago, it had been marked up with acne and rounded with youth, like the rest of theirs had been; now that awful burn was framed by sharp cheekbones and loose, dark hair that fell across his eyes.
“Hidaka?” Sokka asked, startled, because there was no fucking way that Zuko Hidaka was standing in front him right now. In the year of our lord 2024? Sokka had to be having some heat-based hallucination right now.
The hallucination blinked back at him, looking surprised as well. Clearly, Zuko recognized him, too. “Kashatok.” His voice had changed, too– it was a lot deeper than it had been when they were kids, and a lot raspier. Had the guy been smoking a pack a day for the last ten years?
They stood there for another moment, and then Zuko looked over his shoulder towards the front door. When he turned back around, his expression had shifted. “I’ll give you $200 if you kiss me.”
Sokka felt his jaw physically drop. “Excuse me?”
“$300.” Zuko’s voice was very urgent. He glanced behind him again and said, “Quickly.”
What the actual fuck?
“What the actual fuck?” Sokka said out loud. “Are you seriously trying to bribe me right now?”
“It’s just a kiss–”
“You can’t bribe someone to kiss you!”
“Please.” There was something very desperate in the word. His eyes, when they met Sokka’s, were still urgent, but in a much more pleading way, and a little bit… nervous.
So because Sokka had always been a people pleaser at heart, he grabbed the front of Zuko’s black button down and dragged him in for a kiss.
It was clumsy and awkward, because Zuko hadn’t been expecting it and Sokka had slightly overshot his aim. Zuko’s lips were warm from the heat. After a brief moment of shock they started moving against Sokka’s, close-lipped and surprisingly soft.
The front door of the restaurant swung open again. Sokka pulled away from Zuko’s mouth, ignoring the wide-eyed stare he was getting from that direction, and turned to see Ozai and Azulon Hidaka standing in front of them.
Jesus fucking christ.
“Father. Grandfather.” Zuko straightened beside him, smoothing a hand across the front of his shirt like that would do anything to hide what they’d just been doing. He’d gone a bright shade of red that Sokka figured wasn’t from the temperature outside. “I was just coming to find your table and join you.”
Ozai and Azulon wore similar expressions of disgust and horror. It would have been a little funny if Sokka hadn’t currently been praying that the floor would open up and swallow him whole. He’d never actually seen the two men up close, only in pictures and from far away when they appeared at events, and the effect of their matching severe stares was absolutely terrifying.
Ozai seemed to recover first. He narrowed his eyes at Zuko. Despite how upset he looked, two spots of pink had appeared in his cheeks. “That will no longer be necessary,” he said in a clipped voice. “I will see you later, at home.”
The words held a tinge of a threat in them, but Zuko just continued gazing at his father impassively. “Certainly, sir.”
Ozai shot one last hard look at his son before turning back to Azulon, who was studying the other side of the restaurant with a curled lip. “Iroh has a table on the patio, Father. Let us join him.”
They swept past the host stand without sparing another glance for either Sokka or Zuko. The chaotic restaurant seemed to part like the Red Sea for them, with customers at nearly every table perking up and staring as they swept through. The two men certainly cut very imposing figures; when they walked past Anori, she almost tripped over a bus bin in her haste to get out of their way.
Sokka turned back to Zuko, who was staring after his father and grandfather. He’d expected him to look embarrassed or upset, but Zuko was watching the pair walk away with thoughtful, narrowed eyes. The corner of his mouth was lifted in a half-smirk.
“What the hell was that?” Sokka asked, completely flabbergasted.
Zuko’s lips went flat again. He seemed to realize for the first time that Sokka was still standing there. “Oh. Kashatok.” He straightened up and reached into his pocket. “$300, was it?”
“Jesus christ, dude.” Sokka flapped a hand at him before he could pull out his wallet and start counting out hundred dollar bills at the host stand. He glanced around, hoping desperately that no one had seen the little stunt they’d pulled. Thankfully, everyone seemed to be completely focused on Ozai and Azulon’s retreating backs, and neither Aang nor any of his other coworkers were looking at Sokka like he was a lunatic like they definitely would be if they’d seen him kiss Zuko Hidaka in front of the two most important men on the island.
“Look, just–” Katara would be back any second, and Sokka seriously did not want to deal with her on top of the rest of this mess. He jabbed a finger toward the front door. “Go outside, turn right, and wait for me in the side alley.”
Zuko wrinkled his nose. “I’d prefer not to stand near any dumpsters.”
“And I’d prefer if you went outside and waited for me in the side alley.”
The fucker had the audacity to roll his eyes. Apparently he was still just as infuriating as he had been as a teenager. “Fine,” Zuko said, and then turned on his heel and strode through the front door.
It had just swung shut when Katara’s voice said from behind, “What are you doing?”
Sokka spun around. It had only been ten minutes or so since she’d left, but so much had happened that her blue, concerned eyes caught him slightly off guard. “Uh, nothing.”
Katara’s brow creased. Sokka tried not to bristle at the way her gaze swept over him– careful, assessing, checking for any obvious chinks in his armor. It was the way everyone had been looking at him for years, and Sokka had given up fighting the flash of irritation he felt whenever they did so.
“Did you know the Hidakas were eating here today?” he asked before she could probe any further.
Katara stepped back beside the host stand. “Just Iroh, I believe,” she said, tapping at the computer. Of all the Hidakas, Iroh had always been the most approachable. He’d opened a tea shop on the island a few years ago and liked coming into The Wolf Cove occasionally for the coconut shrimp. Sokka enjoyed serving him whenever he got his table. He was the only normal person in that family, and he always tipped well.
“Um, not just Iroh– Ozai and Azulon just fucking walked through our front door.” Sokka purposefully left out any mention of Zuko, not wanting to open that particular can of worms until he figured out what had happened there. He didn’t need to include him, though; when Sokka mentioned the two men, Katara’s eyes went wide.
“Fuck!” She started tapping at the computer screen more aggressively. “Fuck, fuck, that’s Kai’s section– okay, I’ll have to comp their drinks–”
“Is it chill if I take a break?” Sokka asked before he could get roped into her spiraling.
“What?” Katara’s eyes were a bit frantic when they met his. “Yeah, do whatever you want.”
Sokka patted her shoulder reassuringly and turned to go check on his tables really quick. He brought out a few refills, closed two checks, and did some running for both the kitchen and Aang in record time before he decided his section was in a decent enough state to be left for a bit. He retraced his steps back to the front door instead of cutting through the patio because he didn’t want to chance running into Ozai and Azulon again, and stepped outside.
The sun was bright overhead, the sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs loud and familiar. As Sokka rounded the building’s corner he wasn’t sure if he really wanted Zuko to be there or not, and he was a bit surprised to find that the other guy actually had waited for him.
He was standing just a few feet inside the alley, as far from the dumpsters lining the walls as he could be with his arms crossed tightly. He shot Sokka a sour look as he approached. “It smells like fish back here.”
“Oh, gosh!” Sokka clapped his hands to his cheeks and stared at Zuko in mock surprise. “The seafood restaurant smells like fish? Alert the health department!”
“Rotten fish.” Zuko glanced down at his feet and shuffled another inch away from a puddle. Couldn’t go getting dirty water on his loafers, apparently. “Can I just pay you so I can leave?”
“Would you quit trying to give me money and just explain what that was all about?” Sokka asked, exasperated. Zuko and his little sister had always been spoiled as kids, but for god’s sake, Sokka wanted to get through a couple of sentences without having hundreds of dollars foisted on him like it was nothing when it was possibly more than what Sokka had made in tips all day.
“I don’t have to explain anything to you.”
“Um–” Sokka took a second to deliberate this, tapping his chin with exaggerated thought. “Actually, I think you kinda do.”
Zuko arched an eyebrow at him. Sokka refused to let the fact that he could do that so smoothly intimidate him, and stayed stubbornly silent.
“I didn’t want to have lunch with my father and grandfather,” Zuko said finally.
“So your solution was to kiss me?” Sokka asked when he didn’t expand upon this initial explanation.
“My solution was to kiss a man.” At this, Zuko looked a bit smug with himself, although Sokka couldn’t for the life of him imagine why.
“And that was a reasonable method of avoiding quality family time because…?”
Zuko rolled his eyes. “Because my family is wildly homophobic, Kashatok, keep up.”
Sokka glared at him even as he realized that he did know this. He vaguely remembered some drama a few years back about some homophobic comments Azulon had made that had been circulated in the news and on social media. It had caused quite a stir on Ember Island, which had garnered a large enough arts and culture scene to have a pretty liberal population. It definitely wasn’t any West Hollywood, but it was generally a no-no to be so visibly dickish in such a small community. Especially when one’s family represented said community.
So Ozai and Azulon’s reactions made sense. Sokka felt a faint flush of pride as he thought back to the horror on their faces. Even if he was straight, it always felt nice to stick it to a bigot.
“I figured they wouldn’t want me to attend lunch if I made a… more obvious statement in front of them,” Zuko continued.
“You’re pretending to be gay to piss off your family?”
Zuko looked at him strangely. “I’m not pretending.”
Oh. Oh. That threw Sokka for a loop. He’d always assumed Zuko was straight– Sokka was pretty sure he’d dated that scary goth girl that had always hung around their little rich kid group at one point. Not that Sokka had given much thought to Zuko at all beyond general contempt for him and his family, especially in recent years– until today, Zuko had just been a bad memory from Sokka’s childhood.
The fact that Zuko wasn’t pretending made Sokka feel a lot less amused at the reactions they’d elicited from Ozai and Azulon.
“Oh, god.”
Sokka blinked and snapped his gaze back over to Zuko. Sokka hadn’t realized that he’d zoned out, but apparently it had been long enough for Zuko to get frustrated. Not that it took very much for him to get irritated– Sokka was pretty sure that was his default setting.
“Don’t go telling me that you’re homophobic now.” Zuko raised his chin in the air haughtily, mouth twisting into a frown. “Look, Kashatok, I didn’t force you to kiss me, you could have said no. And I will pay you. I’ll pay you more if it made you that uncomfortable, but if you’re–”
“No!” Sokka waved his hands in front of him so aggressively Zuko jumped and took a half-step away. Sokka quickly dropped his arms back to his side. “No, I’m not homophobic, I swear. I wasn’t that uncomfortable– I mean, okay, it was weird, and I am straight so that was a little weird, too, but I’m not like, mad about it or anything. I’m totally an ally.”
Zuko’s expression didn’t change, but his shoulders dropped an inch, losing that defensive tightness that had crept into them. “Oh. Well. Good.”
Silence fell. Sokka reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the entrance to the alley. He hoped none of his coworkers decided to take a smoke break anytime soon. The last thing he needed was The Wolf Cove’s rumor mill to take all this and go running with it.
“It’s funny,” Sokka said, finally breaking the silence. When Zuko tilted his head in a silent question, he added, “I thought your dad was about to shit himself.”
Zuko didn’t smile, because he was apparently incapable of doing that, but his eyes glinted in the shadows when they met Sokka’s. “He’s even more humiliated because my grandfather was here to see it, which was the goal. I won’t be invited to dinner tonight either, I’m sure.”
He said it like it was a good thing, so Sokka figured he didn’t have to feel bad for him. “That’s cool.”
God, this was so fucking weird. Sokka was pretty sure that he and Zuko had never spoken for longer than a minute or two before, and there was clearly a good reason for that. If it had been ten years ago, one of them definitely would have said something insulting about the other by now.
Sokka didn’t have the energy the maintain childhood feuds anymore, though, or much interest in them. Somewhere over the years he had managed to mature a little bit, apparently.
“Well.” Sokka should probably get back to his tables. Also, this was starting to get very awkward, which was his cue to dip. He shot a smile at Zuko, trying to ease out of the situation with a joke like he did best. “Let me know if you ever need to freak out your homophobic family again.”
He turned to go, but he only made it a few steps before Zuko splashed through the puddle behind him and grabbed his elbow. Sokka spun around, startled, and Zuko quickly let go of his arm.
“Sorry.” He took a step away, putting distance between them again. “Do you mean that?”
“What?” Sokka was still stuck on the fact that Zuko Hidaka had just apologized. To Sokka. Toph would lose her shit if she found out about this. Which she never would.
“That you would help me freak them out again– do you mean it?” Zuko might have been joking had his gaze not been so earnest.
“Uh,” Sokka said, thrown for a loop all over again. “You want to do that again?”
“I was planning on doing whatever I could to make the duration of their summer residency here as uncomfortable as possible.” The honesty of his answer surprised Sokka. He was even more surprised when Zuko dropped his eyes to the ground, looking faintly embarrassed for the first time all day. “I… was going to come with someone else originally, but plans changed. There’s no pressure, of course, but if you were interested in helping, I would compensate you well.”
Sokka reached up to tug at his ponytail. “Um, okay. So let me get this straight– you want me to keep kissing you in front of your dad and grandfather all summer?”
“We don’t have to kiss to make them uncomfortable.” Zuko’s face had gone bright red again. “I was just hoping to bring a plus one to a few events that my family will be appearing at this summer. The only reason I was even asked to attend at all is because Azulon’s homophobic comments have started to actually affect the family’s image, and they think that if they tote his gay grandson around on stage, people will forget about it.” This sounded exceedingly depressing to Sokka, but Zuko seemed pleased about it. “They didn’t anticipate that I would actually act like a homosexual in front of them, though. I already have an invitation to bring a plus-one to these events, and it would reflect poorly if they revoked it just because I want to bring someone of the same gender as me. It’s not exactly… politically correct. And they’ve been advised to be very politically correct this summer. Especially to me.”
Sokka eyed him shrewdly. “That’s evil of you.”
“Yes.” Zuko regarded him down a sharp, straight nose. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re insane.”
“As I said, I’ll compensate you well. I’ll pay you for each event that you attend with me.”
“See, but that sounds dangerously close to prostitution, and I’m pretty sure that’s frowned upon,” Sokka pointed out. “Legally speaking, I mean.”
Zuko sighed. “And here I was hoping you’d gotten less annoying.”
“Ha, ha.” Sokka crossed his arms. This was a stupid idea. It had been kinda funny messing with Ozai and Azulon once, but there was no way Sokka could pretend to be, what– dating Zuko Hidaka? Aside from how absurd the entire concept was, no one would even believe it. It was an insane idea, and a waste of his time. Sokka should say no and go back to his tables before Katara came looking for him. He wasn’t strapped enough for cash that he would entertain something like this.
“Well?” Zuko asked a touch impatiently when Sokka remained quiet for too long. Apparently he didn’t have a lot of tolerance for the the time critical thinking took.
“Jeez, will you let me think for one fucking second?” Sokka snapped at him. “You realize this idea is batshit crazy, right?”
“Yes.”
Sokka bit the inside of his cheek and then heaved out a sigh. He really did need to go check on his tables. He really should say no. “Dude, I don’t know, you’re kind of putting me on the spot right now.”
Zuko at least had the decency to look a bit chagrined. He reached into his pocket and drew out his wallet. For a moment Sokka thought he was about to try and hand over money again, but Zuko just slipped a small piece of paper out and handed it to Sokka. It was a business card, plain on the front except for black lettering with Zuko’s name and contact information underneath. Printed just underneath his phone number in another font were the words ‘Freelance Photographer.’ Sokka flipped the card over to reveal a glossy close-up photo of an eye. It wasn’t Zuko’s– the color was a darker shade of brown- but the intricacies of the iris were a bit mesmerizing. Even though Sokka couldn’t see anything else of the person’s face, it felt like he was being both examined and glared at. The effect was as interesting as it was off-putting.
“You’re a photographer?” Sokka asked, thrown again. He hadn’t taken the time to imagine what adult Zuko’s job might be, but he probably would have guessed something less creative and more self-righteously power hungry. Maybe a mall cop or something.
“Just text me when you’ve made a decision one way or the other,” Zuko said, sounding impatient again. “As soon as possible, if you could– I need to develop an alternative plan if you aren’t interested.”
Sokka ran his thumb along the corner of the business card and then tucked it into the front pocket of his apron. “Fine.”
Zuko had gone back to his wallet. “Am I allowed to pay you now, or are you worried that someone is hiding in the dumpster and might see?”
Sokka glared at him. “I don’t want your money– did I not just say that I need a little time to think about this before I go around accepting cash in exchange for making out with someone in front of their family?”
“There will be no need for making out,” Zuko said, looking disgusted by the idea.
“Thank god,” Sokka said over his shoulder as he turned to walk away. “I’ll text you, Hidaka.”
“Soon,” Zuko emphasized behind him. Sokka flapped a hand above his head in acknowledgment and rounded the corner.
Katara shot him a disgruntled look as Sokka hurried back in and rushed towards his section, clearly annoyed by the extended break he’d taken. Most of his tables were ready to check out at this point, so Sokka flew around the room with checks and credit cards and dirty plates, trying to catch up with everything he’d missed. He wasn’t able to take a breather for another hour; when he did, he stepped behind the fish tank in the south room and slipped the business card out of his pocket, staring very hard at that glaring eye.
Sokka managed to weasel his way out of taking his Katara-mandated break between shifts by offering to help Natoq shuck oysters at the raw bar. The dinner rush was just as wild as lunch had been, and it was very, very late by the time Sokka was able to go home.
He only lived a five-minute walk from the restaurant, but every step felt like his feet were dragging through thick honey. He was exhausted by the time he reached his place, a tiny pale blue beach cottage tucked between a row of others painted in similar pastel colors. All of the neighboring buildings were used for vacation rentals; Sokka was pretty sure that he was the only person that lived on that street permanently. The house was actually owned by his stepfather, Bato, but he hadn’t had any use for it since moving in with Sokka’s dad. Sokka had originally been planning on buying it with Yue, once upon a time. Now he just rented it from Bato, waving off his and Hakoda’s concern that he was putting too much money towards rent when he could do the financially responsible thing and accept Bato’s very generous offer to buy it outright and pay in installments.
The lights in the living room were off when Sokka pushed his way through the front door. He made it one step in before his foot nudged against something on the ground.
“Hey, Momo.” Sokka crouched down and grabbed the cat, hefting him into his arms. Momo immediately started pawing at his shoulder, and Sokka tipped his head forward to let the little demon scurry up his arm and drape himself around Sokka’s neck. “Try not to fall and die,” he said, reaching up to scratch Momo’s chin as he made his way across the room and flicked on the lights. Momo’s dark tail swung across Sokka’s face, bumping against his nose, and he batted it away.
“Let’s get you some dinner, you little menace.” Sokka walked carefully to the kitchen, head tilted at an awkward angle to make sure Momo didn’t fall. It was a good thing that he had tapped out at ten pounds, otherwise Sokka wouldn’t be able to keep carrying him like this.
He dropped Momo off by his food bowl and went to the cupboard to pull out a tin of cat food. The kitchen was very quiet except for the sound of the metal scraping open and the hum of the refrigerator. Sokka grabbed a fork and walked over to Momo’s bowl, dumping the food into it and holding Momo off with his foot long enough to mash it up a bit for him. “Alright. Go for it, buddy.”
Sokka tossed the fork in the sink while Momo ate. He walked back into his living room and collapsed onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling. It was the first time that he had stopped moving all day, and the sudden stillness left him feeling strangely off-balance. What a busy, weird-ass few hours.
The silence was broken by his phone ringing. Sokka pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the name on the screen, then rolled his eyes.
“Katara, why are you calling me right now? I just saw you like ten minutes ago,” he said when he answered. “And I’ll be seeing you again in just a few short hours when we both open the restaurant. I have to be there at seven. You do remember that, right?”
“Obviously– I make your schedule,” said his sister's voice on the other end. “I just wanted to check in. We didn’t get a chance to actually talk today. Are you doing okay?”
Sokka pinched the bridge of his nose. He was starting to get a familiar Katara-shaped headache directly behind his eyes. “Why would I not be okay?”
“You seemed a bit distracted today.” Katara was doing a poor job disguising the concern in her voice, or the way it gentled with her next words. “And… I know the anniversary is coming up, so I just wanted to let you know that I’m here for you, always. Everyone is.”
It was sweet. It was thoughtful and considerate of his sister to anticipate his emotions like that.
It made Sokka want to punch a hole in the wall.
He closed his eyes, trying to reign in his frustration. He shouldn’t snap at Katara. Not only would it be a dick move, but he knew from experience that if he started lashing out at people again, it wouldn’t be long before his family sat him down for another intervention that wasn’t actually an intervention (according to them), and they’d all talk about how worried they were and try to get him back into therapy and back into the dating scene and back to being a normal human being again.
Sokka didn’t think he remembered how to be a normal human being anymore. He was pretty sure that part of him had died when Yue had, and he’d made his peace with it. He just wished the rest of his family would, too.
“I’m fine,” Sokka said, pleased when he managed to force his voice into something light and grateful. “I appreciate it, Kat. I was just a bit frazzled today, but I’ll take you up on it if I feel like I have to talk, okay?”
He’d figured out the formula to get people off his back. When Katara spoke again, she sounded relieved. “That’s fair– it was fucking crazy today.”
“Tell me about it. Hey, how’d Kai end up doing with the Hidakas? He went home before I could ask him.”
“Oh, the poor kid was terrified of them. It sounded like Iroh did most of the talking, though, and they tipped well, at least. I can’t believe Azulon is here– he hasn’t been around since before he made those awful comments.”
“Yeah.” Even though Sokka had been the one to start them on that tangent, he felt suddenly drained again, and not at all like talking with his sister. “Hey, Katara, do you mind if I let you go? I have to go feed Momo.”
“Alright, Sokka. Call me or Aang if you need anything, okay? We’re always here for you.” Sokka heard another voice in the background, and then Katara said, “Yes, I was just about to tell him that we love him, Aang, give me a second.”
Sokka tried and failed to muster up the energy for a smile. He supposed it didn’t matter if his sister couldn’t see it. “Thanks, Katara. I love you guys, too.”
He hung up, sending the room back into blissful silence. Momo came padding out of the kitchen, his nails clacking quietly against the hardwood floor. He hopped up onto the couch cushion beside Sokka and curled up, tucking his head down so just his big ears were poking out. Sokka reached down to stroke them absentmindedly, staring at the wall across from him.
He had hoped that as the years passed, his family and friends would have quit hovering over him and would get off his back about this mysterious grieving process they loved to wax on and on about. None of them had taken it very well when Sokka had (in an admittedly not very sober state of mind) declared that the grieving process was bullshit government propoganda and he had decided that he was going to be sad and miserable for the rest of his life.
That had resulted in the first intervention, during which Hakoda had told him in no uncertain terms that if Sokka wanted to continue coming into work and throwing himself into back to back double shifts, he needed to go to therapy. Sokka had gone twice before giving up that time.
Instead of giving up on fretting over him, his family and friends only seemed to redouble their efforts to try and fix him every year. They checked in on him relentlessly and hovered when he showed the slightest hint of an emotion that wasn’t pure happiness, and tried fruitlessly to set him up on dates and encourage him to ‘get back out there.’ They’d done everything except punch Sokka right in the face and shout that he was pathetic for still being such a mess so long after Yue’s death. At this point, Sokka would do pretty much anything to get them to back off and leave him alone, if only so he could be left to sink into his loneliness in peace.
Sokka’s hand paused on Momo’s neck. The cat meowed, irritated that he had stopped receiving pets, and pressed his head against Sokka’s thigh. Sokka tried not to disturb him as he slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out the business card he’d been given earlier, looking at it thoughtfully.