Work Text:
The flight back from the island was peaceful, the night calm. Rain lightly drizzled down, and Aang cast a bubble around Appa as they flew.
“What do you think of rain, Zuko?”
“It’s water.”
Zuko had a way with words. It… wasn’t great. “Do you like it?”
Zuko huffed as Aang turned around where he was sitting at Appa’s reins. He had his arms crossed, an angry pout on his face. “Is this one of those times where you aren’t going to stop asking me until I answer you?”
“Maaaaaybe,” Aang grinned.
“I am impartial to the rain.”
“No one is impartial to the rain!”
Zuko looked like death. “Well, I am.”
“Let me set the scene for you.” Aang nodded like he was a professor of the thing. “It is dark out. Or light, if you prefer. You are lying down, and the rain starts. It pitter-patters down around you, making a bunch of noise, but it's quiet noise. On a scale of one to ten, how peaceful are you?”
“Zero.”
“That wasn’t on the scale.”
“Okay: one. But I multiply it by zero, so it’s still zero.”
“You can’t add multiplication into my number scale!”
“Well I already did!”
Aang was very upset with how this was going. “So you’ll face down ancient dragons with me, but you won’t tell me if you like rain or not? Because that’s just silly.”
“I am not silly.”
Aang smirked. Now he had an angle. He’d been learning from Sokka’s nudging. “You are silly. You’re silly unless you just answer the question.”
Zuko turned his back to him. “I’m not entertaining this anymore.”
“When we get back to the air temple, I’m going to tell everyone just how silly you are.”
“No, you aren’t!”
“Do you like rain?”
Zuko looked like he was considering the merits of trying to capture Aang again. Oops. “...yes.”
Aang’s immediately elated smile had Zuko aggressively rolling his eyes moments later. “See, was that so hard?”
“It was obnoxious.”
“Well, at least it’s still raining, so we can enjoy it together!”
“Whatever.”
–
The rain fell in torrents, showering the earth around the Western Air Temple as lightning cracked and thunder boombed. Toph, when at peace, loved the rain. It was annoying when she was trying to focus on something because the uneven pressure that hit the ground and shifted with the wind and terrain made it difficult to navigate at her full ability. At moments like these, though, laying around a fireplace with her friends safe and dry, the rain was a blanket. It covered the bustling ground, usually live with thousands of bugs and creatures, yet the rain felt like a weighted veil on her earthbending. It was a breath of fresh air.
Usually, it would put her right to sleep. Tonight was different, though. She could just barely perceive each flash of lightning. The change in light was very abrupt as they were in the middle of the storm. What made it so hard to sleep through was Zuko, huddled alone in his room, flinching like death at every bolt. If she zeroed in on his area, she could tell his rapid heart rate, shaking figure, and pure fear as each strike of light came crashing down. And it was always on the lightning that his flinched, never the thunder.
Toph wasn’t sure what to make of it. On one hand, she definitely felt for the guy. On the other… she had her friends. Her family. So, Zuko was afraid of a little storm? It wasn’t really her problem. She trifled through their supplies and procured a sleeping mat. Curled in it, she couldn’t sense his terror, and she fell asleep.
–
Zuko was on edge, but normal Zuko was on edge. This was different. This was tense, ever glaring Zuko impossibly more rigid. His head was held perfectly straight, arms tucked to his sides, breaths forcibly even.
“You okay?” Sokka whispered to him, realizing it was very hard to do so with the guard helmets blocking their ears.
“Fine.”
Sokka didn’t need Toph to tell him what a blatant lie that was. “You seem more… stiff. Than usual.”
“We’re in the Fire Nation’s highest security prison.”
“Well, you weren’t tense in the blimp here, or when we stole the guard uniforms, or when-”
“ Drop it, Sokka.”
“You’re my partner right now, okay? We’re working together here. Teamwork means we tell our teammate what’s up.”
Zuko didn’t respond for a long moment. Sokka could nearly feel him shoving his brain into overtime, trying to set his words straight. “The rain,” He said finally.
Now that Sokka thought about it, Zuko’s drawn-up-ness did start when the rain had started. It clanged against the surrounding metal. But something about that didn’t sound right. “Are most firebenders afraid of the rain?”
“No. I’m just worried… the boiling rock will fill up.”
Sokka turned to face him, eyebrows screwed in confusion. “Buddy, tell me you’re kidding.”
“I-” he sighed far more aggressively than necessary. “I just don’t like it. I don’t want to talk about it.
“You don’t have to,” Sokka told him. “Just don’t go making up weird reasons. I think that makes it worse.”
“You aren’t going to… ask me why?”
Sokka was actually dying to know why Fire Prince Zuko was scared of a little falling water, but he screwed his mouth shut. It was none of his business, and besides, Zuko had been honest with him. That was enough for now.
–
Katara and Zuko trudged away from the scene Katara had left, the man still curled whimpering on the floor. Katara didn’t turn around. Neither did Zuko. It was still raining, but the attention it would draw on them for her to continue waterbending wasn’t worth it, especially after the spectacle she’d thrown. Her blood was still rushing in her ears, feeling nauseous, exhausted, and a little like crying as they made their way back to Appa. Her adrenaline was just coming down, but she still felt every sense heightened.
For a reason she could not identify, she found her attention focused on Zuko as he followed behind her. She could feel his blood in his body, which only added to her distress most days, but there was another thing. His blood was rushing . It pumped through his body at an alarming rate, but you would likely need to have a hand on his pulse to tell, as his outer appearance looked mildly uncomfortable at most. Katara wasn’t sure what it was until lightning flashed, and she saw out of the corner of her eye Zuko nearly jump out of his skin when he whipped around, his body turning to face where the sudden light had come from. His pulse raced higher, and now she could see his ribs contracting in and out. After a moment, he turned back around, and she caught his eye. He must not have liked the expression on her face because he turned his eyes down and continued walking. They walked shoulder to shoulder now, Katara continuously glancing at him. She didn’t suspect it was because of her actions, not after that.
They got on Appa, and Katara finally created a bubble around them so the rain was no longer soaking their clothes. She bent the water out of her uniform, sigh of relief that it no longer clung to her. Before she could offer to Zuko, the last of the steam was already sizzling out. Lightning flashed. Zuko flinched. He met her eye for a split second, a shared acknowledgment that she didn’t miss his actions.
“I… don’t want to talk about it,” he said hesitantly, like he was testing weak ice. Katara would never have placed ‘Zuko’ and ‘hesitant’ in a room together.
“Okay,” she said. Curiosity bubbled under her skin, but she turned to the reins anyway. Her head was full enough anyway, Yon Rha likely beginning to pick up his groceries below.
–
Zuko had retired early from the group, much to Suki’s dismay. The grump was starting to grow on her despite herself. She very much enjoyed making digs at him and watching him glare at her teasing, but having nothing to say back in return. Whether it was him trying to be polite or just being too genuinely awkward to tease back, she wasn’t sure. She suspected the latter.
Toph was kind enough to make rock structures around their camp while the rain fell, as they were still a day's journey from the summer house Zuko had promised them. It was a soft sort of rain, each drop taking its time to fall in the humid air. She had been afraid for a time that she could only be able to feel the rain standing in a metal square, guards around her policing her every move. She had kicked her shoes off a while ago just to feel the blessed grass.
For a reason she couldn’t determine, everyone looked a bit unsure as their firebender left them, stalking away to his tent. After small talk fell flat, Suki felt confident enough to call it.
“What’s wrong?” She addressed the group.
“Yeah,” Aang nodded, egging on their responses. He seemed just as out of the loop as she was.
The other three looked at each other uncomfortably.
“Zuko doesn’t seem fond of rain,” Sokka said slowly, testing the way.
“I’ve noticed that,” Katara responded.
“Me too,” Toph said, her expression looking earnestly guilt-ridden. It was an abnormal look to see on her.
“He told me he liked the rain!” Aang said, full of that childish curiosity.
“When was that?” Toph asked.
“On our field trip.”
“I think this might be something that started after that, then.”
Suki found herself intrigued at how seriously they were taking this. “Maybe he just doesn’t like being wet?” The three looked near-solem, clearly disagreeing. “Well, what did you observe, Toph?”
“There was that storm a few days after Aang and Zuko returned. I could tell he wasn’t happy. He… he flinched every time the lightning struck.”
“He did that with me, too,” Katara said. “It was at the end of our trip. It didn’t look like a normal fear, though. It looked…”
“Traumatized?” Toph tried. Katara nodded.
“There was no lightning when he told me,” Sokka said.
Suki raised an eyebrow. “He told you that?”
“It was at the Boiling Rock. The first day we got there, it was raining, and he seemed on edge, so I prodded him into telling me. He said he didn’t like the rain. Wouldn’t say why, though.”
“If I had to guess, it’s not the rain he doesn’t like.” Toph looked very upset now. “It’s the lightning.”
“Then why did just the rain make him nervous?” Sokka asked.
Suki had a sense memory of her island, a pang of longing hitting her. “Sometimes, sailors would get caught in storms. When they got back, they’d get skittish on cloudy days or drizzling rain. Could it have been something like that?”
They all grew quiet, considering. Toph spoke up finally. “We should stop speculating. He clearly doesn’t want to discuss it.”
“That’s fair,” Katara said.
Suki wasn’t quite done. She looked in the direction of his tent. “Toph. Is he okay right now?”
“He clearly wants to be alone.”
“But is he okay?”
“I’m not answering that,” Toph said, drawing a firm line. Suki sighed, begrudgingly backing off. She was sure this would come about eventually, one way or another.
–
Zuko used to love the rain. He would sit on the balcony with his mother, and she would run her fingers over his face and hands while humming, putting him to sleep. He would stand on the deck of his ship, rain pounding hard on steel. He’d watch lightning crack the sky, feel the thunder reverberate through his chest, and breathe. He was going to do that someday, he just had to keep training. Keep pushing. It was glorious, how in the dark purple clouds every swirling crevice was revealed when lit for that split-second. He’d meditate to the sound of the rain on his ship, feeling enclosed and safe.
When he watched Azula shoot lightning at him, it hadn’t really phased him. Azula was always playing games, pushing buttons, trying to hurt him. Yes, the lightning would have killed him. But Uncle intervened, and he still hoped to return home, so he never let himself internalize it. Then his father. His father threw lightning at him.
He acted without thinking, reaching a hand towards it. Time slowed. He could feel a shiver run up his spine, every hair on his body standing at attention. He could feel the tips of his fingers as they met white, blinding. The energy surged through him, everything becoming a mushy blur. His mind screamed down and out down and out down and out down and out down and-
He ran. He knew he missed his father, knew he didn’t (wouldn’t) kill him.
Zuko had always loved the rain. Then he saw that first flash of lightning, laying alone in his room in the Western Air Temple. His gut clenched, all his senses harrowing in on the rain around him. He couldn’t go anywhere, couldn’t go to anyone, he was alone in his room. Somewhere outside, intermixed with the come down, he could hear his mother humming, low and sweet. Seconds ticked by like hours, each flash of lightning having him at the ready to redirect it, even though he knew it wasn’t his father. Just like he knew his brain was screwing with him while the tune his mother hummed floated in the whipping wind, but panic was seared into his being. Nothing he could do, nowhere he could go to escape. He laid there and prayed to Agni for morning.
Next time it rained, there wasn’t even any lightning. He tried to shake it off, focus on his and Sokka’s mission, but the rain brought him back to that long, horrid night. His heartbeat was loud and his stomach tight, and his ribs tighter, no amount of deep breaths evidence enough to convince his mind he could still breathe. Sokka poked and poked and poked-
And stopped. Admission of an issue was always the tip of the iceberg for Azula. Once she knew something was wrong, she took full advantage of it. When Zuko specified he didn’t want to speak of it anymore, Sokka dropped it. Zuko felt like a damned Great Spirit when the same thing worked on Katara. Hopefully, it would never come up.
When Aang asked Zuko what it was like to redirect lightning, Zuko answered as honestly as he could. He only gave himself a few minutes to panic once he was inside and alone. He picked up his dao and ran katas in a secluded courtyard until his body forgot the feeling of lightning in his gut, replaced by a burning in his lungs, and they tried to keep up with his movements. He was properly tired by nightfall, but he was on cooking duty that night. Katara’s food was good, but it was overwhelmingly nice to be able to eat a spicy curry a few times a week. Even if he had to tone the spice down exponentially for his friends.
Just his luck, it began raining towards the end of dinner. As everyone around him cleared their plates, his stayed half-eaten. Already on edge, he very much disliked the quiet whispers he heard from the living room while he washed dishes. Even more so when Katara came to finish the dishes and Sokka whisked Zuko away.
“I’m going to bed,” Zuko said, attempting to unwrap Sokka’s arm from where it was hooked around his.
“Before you do, can we talk?” Sokka asked, attempting to seem nonchalant. They froze in the long hallway, Zuko glaring at Sokka. He could sense the unspoken objective from a mile away. He hated it.
“Why?” He snipped.
“Well… first off, if you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to, okay?”
Zuko clenched his fists, taking a controlled breath. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled. It sounded far away. “...Okay.”
“Aang told us what you said. About your father.”
“What about him?”
“You redirected his lightning?”
“Yeah,” Zuko shrugged. He watched Sokka’s face fall, eyes growing wide, and huffed. Sweet Agni , why were they always like this?
“When?”
“When I left to help the Aang.”
“Why?”
“Because I told him I was going to teach the Avatar firebending.”
“What?” Sokka shrieked, which seemed a call to attention. Toph, Aang, and Suki careened around the corner as if they had been waiting there the entire time. Katara caught up seconds later
“You told him you were betraying him?” Katara asked, stricken.
“I wanted to tell him. I wanted him to know.” He answered. I wanted to make sure I would never be tempted to go back was left unsaid.
“So it wasn’t just for training?” Aang asked.
“No. He was trying to kill me,” Zuko answered resolutely, even though he felt anything but.
“But that’s… that’s awful,” Sokka said.
Zuko recited a line from the documents he had been forced to remember since birth. “Traitors are executed.”
“He’s your father,” Sokka replied.
“He’s the Fire Lord, and I’m a traitor.” Emotion swirled through his head miserably, leaving him feeling overwhelmed. Such a simple sentence caused so much hurt. Lightning. Zuko was ready, two fingers out to catch, down and up-
The flash was over, thunder following seconds behind. Zuko straightened up from his ready stance, breath coming too fast for what had just been a simple movement. He shrunk in on himself when he categorized that everyone’s attention was on him.
“Sorry,” he staggered out, keeping his eyes down while his face flushed. No one said anything for painfully long seconds, and Zuko was pretty sure he’d wither away from embarrassment. Shame- more accurately. A familiar friend.
“Pillow fort.”
Zuko looked up at Sokka, confusion distracting him for a moment. “What?”
“We’re making a pillow fort!” Sokka declared, stomping down the hallway towards his room. “Attendance: mandatory. Pillows: also mandatory.”
“I need to finish the dishes,” Katara said.
“ I’ll finish them– tomorrow. Pillows now.”
Zuko stood, legs feeling like lead as he stared at Sokka’s back. Everyone walked past him to their respective rooms as well. Toph punched his arm, shaking him from his daze.
“You have to get pillows too, Sparky.”
“Why?” He asked.
“Fort,” she nodded.
Zuko went into his room, utterly confused. He was pretty sure he was going to hate whatever this was. Fort to him firstly meant stronghold, but he wasn’t sure why pillows were relevant to that. He left his room, carrying four large ones, and followed everyone to the living room. Sokka had evidently already dumped his pillows there and was running back down the hallway past them. Lightning flashed, and he did his best not to flinch. Sokka brought blankets, lots of blankets, which were also promptly dumped down. Sokka had also procured a sheet, which was billowed over chairs and secured with Toph’s earthbending, making a sort of tent over all the pillows-
Oh . He knew what they were up to. Yeah, he definitely hated it.
Sokka lifted up a flap of sheet and pointed. “Everyone in.”
Zuko shook his head as they all crawled in. Sokka still held the opening, looking at Zuko pointedly. It looked incredibly cozy. Zuko was almost an adult, though. He was too old to be afraid of a storm.
“No,” Zuko said.
“Your pillows are in there. Are you going to sleep without pillows?”
“I spent months roaming the Earth Kingdom. Yes, I will sleep without pillows.
“You have to go in.”
“No.”
Sokka forced his back a little straighter. “Go in the fort, Zuko.”
“I’m fine! I don’t need the fort.” Zuko knew his gestures were wild now, but he couldn’t really contain them. This was absurd.
Sokka touched a hand to his chest. “Maybe I’m scared of thunderstorms, Zuko. Maybe I need the fort.”
“Now you're mocking me,” Zuko snapped. Lightning. Zuko hadn’t been ready, with Sokka distracting him. He flinched despite himself.
“I am not.” Sokka shook his head. “I just want you to go in the pillow fort.”
“I refuse.”
“Come on,” Aang's voice drawled, his head peeking out. “Don’t be silly, Zuko.”
“Stop that.”
Sokka’s grin was evil. “It would be pretty silly to not want to go in a pillow fort, wouldn’t it, Aang?”
“Yes,” Aang nodded.
“This is torture to listen to,” Toph said, standing up and getting out of the fort. Sokka and Aang's faces fell.
“Thank you, Toph,” Zuko said, relief flooding him. Toph also didn’t like to be cuddly or vulnerable. She understood. She walked forward like she was going to go right past Zuko, but she zipped to the side faster than he’d expected and latched onto his torso. And started dragging.
He wriggled, trying to get out of her iron grip. It felt ridiculous, wrestling a 12-year-old. Laughter sprung behind him as Aang also hopped out of the tent, helping Toph yank him back.
“I am the future Fire Lord!” Zuko yelled, digging his heels down while he lost ground. “You can’t do this!”
“We just did,” Sokka remarked as Zuko was yanked down to his butt, Katara and Suki helping to pull him in the rest of the way. Sokka let the flap fall closed behind him.
There was much squabbling while they all shuffled around, none of them giving Zuko an opening to escape. He half-debated barreling through them, but then he might ruin their fort. He’d feel bad if he did that.
They ended up: Katara, Aang, Toph, Zuko, Sokka, Suki. Toph had her arms wrapped around Zuko’s arm, and Sokka was pressed to his other side. Zuko glared at the ceiling. He was very aware that Sokka and Toph could feel his heartbeat thundering in his chest, the rain giving him no reprieve. When the lightning flashed, he knew everyone could probably feel him flinch. More shame bubbled up, and he crossed his arms tighter.
Minutes passed like that, his heart in his chest. The minutes turned into an hour, in which Zuko was feeling annoyingly better. The breathing of his sleeping friends around him gave him something to listen to other than the rain. Since Sokka had fallen asleep, he had grown much more cuddly, his head tucked in the crook of Zuko’s neck and arm wrapped around his chest. The weight was nice. He felt… protected. Secure. He tried to resist the feeling, but the fact that none of them had rejected or even seemed to care that he flinched at every lightning stroke was… he didn’t know what it was.
“Hey,” he heard Toph whisper. She had an arm wrapped around his stomach, her forehead pressed against his upper rib cage.
“Hello,” he whispered back, eyes flickering down to her. She kept her head tucked in.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s okay,” he replied immediately.
“...you don’t even know what I’m apologizing for, do you?”
Zuko blinked. “For dragging me in here?” He couldn’t think of what else she could be referring to. He felt her shake her head against him.
“In the Western Air Temple, the first time it stormed, I could feel that you were upset, and I didn’t do anything. I guess I didn’t think it was my problem. I should have done something, though. I’m sorry.”
Zuko forced himself to let out the breath he had sucked in. “I was your enemy. I burned you. I wouldn’t have expected you to.”
“You have a habit of not expecting kindness from people, though.”
“People don’t often make a habit of being kind to me.”
“What about us?”
“I don’t deserve your kindness, not after what I did to all of you. I’ll probably ruin it like I did with Uncle.” The words were out of his mouth before he could fully process them. This tent was doing things to his mind. Annoying things.
“I think you deserve kindness.” Toph’s words were soft-spoken, like they were a sacred thing. “And like I said during the play, your Uncle will forgive you.”
Zuko tried to shuffle, a physical manifestation of his discomfort. Sokka shifted then, nuzzling further into Zuko’s neck. Zuko froze again, resigning himself to staying still.
“Are you okay? Toph asked after a moment. “For the record, I don’t need earthbending to tell when you're lying. You suck at it.”
Zuko huffed out a laugh, letting a smile take his face in the darkness. It melted away as he considered her question. “I don’t know why you’re acting like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like…” he sighed, exasperated. He was scared to put it into words, like voicing his shame would spontaneously remind Toph it was there. He pushed through the fear, though, pathetic as it made him feel. “Like I’m not a fool for flinching at lightning.”
“It’s okay to be afraid of things,” Toph told him.
“I’m an adult.”
“Well, first of all, no you aren’t. Second, everyone gets scared. Even me.”
Zuko was usually socially inept, but even he could feel the weight of her words. “Okay.” Agni, that response was stupid. Why was he like this?
“It doesn’t feel okay to me. I assume it’s similar for you?”
“...I guess, yeah.”
“Well, as I’ve been trying to learn, it is okay.”
“Right,” Zuko said. The rain was petering out, now background noise. Despite his exhaustion, he tried to internalize what she said. Yet another thing the Fire Nation had taught him, yet another lie. “Thanks,” he said. He still felt stupid and weak, but he would try to take solace in her words, just for one night.
She punched him. Not too hard, though. Probably just not to wake anyone up.
“Don’t make me have to drag you into a pillow fort again, okay?”
“Okay.”
She squeezed him a little tighter,