Chapter 3: The Confession
The world had narrowed to the creaking of the ship’s timbers, the chill of the air on their heated skin, and the silent, seismic force of the word hanging between them.
You.
Zuko didn’t move. His grip on Sokka’s wrists loosened, his fingers sliding down to interlace with Sokka’s instead, pressing their joined hands into the thin mattress. His expression was one of utter shock, as if Sokka had spoken in a forgotten tongue. The fierce intensity had melted, leaving something raw and terrifyingly open in his golden eyes.
“Say it again,” Zuko whispered, the command barely audible.
Sokka’s heart was a frantic animal against his ribs. There was no teasing his way out of this. The trap was of his own making, and every instinct screamed to deflect, to laugh it off. But pinned under Zuko’s weight, beneath that unblinking gaze that saw right through him, he found he couldn’t. The truth was out. It was a relief so acute it felt like pain.
“I like you, dummy,” Sokka said, his voice cracking on the last word. A weak, helpless smile touched his lips. “A lot. For… years, probably. That’s my thing. You. That’s what popped into my head.”
Zuko stared. A tremble went through him, starting in his shoulders and running the entire length of his body. He released Sokka’s hands. For a horrible second, Sokka thought he was going to bolt. Instead, Zuko’s hands came up to frame Sokka’s face, his thumbs sweeping over the high bones of his cheeks with a reverence that stole the air from Sokka’s lungs.
The smile that broke over Zuko’s face then was a rare, breathtaking thing. It wasn’t the sharp, triumphant grin from a successful negotiation. It was softer, wider, unguarded. It lit his eyes from within, smoothing the usual tense line of his brow, making him look his age. It was the most beautiful thing Sokka had ever seen.
Zuko didn’t speak. He simply bent his head and kissed him.
This kiss was nothing that had come before. It wasn’t practice. It wasn’t a performance. It was an answer. It was the release of a dam, all the pent-up longing of years poured into the press of his mouth. It was desperate and grateful and achingly tender all at once. Zuko kissed him like he was mapping a familiar coast he’d only ever dreamed of touching, like he was memorizing the taste of salvation.
Sokka’s hands, now free, came up to Zuko’s waist, sliding over the hot, smooth skin of his back, pulling him down until there was no space left between them. He kissed back with everything he had, a shuddering exhale escaping into Zuko’s mouth. This was real. This was actually, impossibly, happening.
When they finally broke apart, gasping, their foreheads pressed together, the cabin felt different. The shadows were softer. The creak of the ship was a rhythm, not a noise.
“Years?” Zuko breathed against his lips, the word a puff of disbelieving warmth.
“Yeah,” Sokka whispered back, his fingers tracing the line of Zuko’s spine. “You’re surprisingly oblivious for a guy who notices everything.”
Zuko huffed a quiet laugh, the sound vibrating through Sokka’s chest. “You flirt with everyone.”
“I flirt at everyone. It’s different with you. I thought I was being obvious.”
“You put a cockroach in my formal headpiece once.”
“That was a joke! And it was a carved wooden one!” Sokka argued, grinning stupidly, giddy with the absurdity of having this conversation while Zuko was half-naked on top of him.
“It startled me during the Earth Kingdom trade accord. I nearly set the treaty on fire.”
“See? Memorable.”
Zuko kissed him again, slower this time, a deep, lingering pull that left them both dizzy. He finally rolled to the side, taking Sokka with him, rearranging them so they lay facing each other on the narrow cot, legs tangled, Sokka’s head tucked under Zuko’s chin. Zuko’s arms wrapped around him, holding him fast, as if Sokka might try to leave.
“I thought I was losing my mind,” Zuko murmured into his hair, his voice a low rumble Sokka felt more than heard. “The way I’d watch you. The way it hurt, sometimes, just to be near you. I thought it was just… me. My own problem to deal with.”
Sokka nuzzled closer, inhaling the scent of smoke and sea salt that was uniquely Zuko. “So your brilliant solution was to agree to pretend to be engaged to me. Smooth, Your Flameyness. Real smooth.”
“It got you into my bed,” Zuko pointed out, his tone dry.
“Through a loophole! And I had to invent a political crisis!”
“You’re a strategic genius.”
They lay in silence for a long while, listening to the ocean, feeling the steady beat of each other’s hearts begin to synchronize. The immensity of what had just shifted between them was a quiet hum in the small space. The betrothal was still a fiction, a political shield. But the foundation it was built on had just turned to solid, undeniable truth.
Sokka’s hand, which had been resting on Zuko’s chest, drifted up to trace the edge of the scar over his eye. Zuko didn’t flinch. He just watched Sokka’s face in the dim light, his expression soft.
“So what now?” Sokka asked quietly.
Zuko was silent for a moment, thinking. His fingers played with the ends of Sokka’s wolf tail. “Now,” he said slowly, “we have three days on a ship where the only people who matter already think we’re betrothed. We have a political performance to maintain when we reach the North Pole.” He tilted Sokka’s chin up so their eyes met. His gaze was serious, but a spark of his old intensity had returned, now focused and clear. “And we have this. For real. No more pretending that part.”
A thrill shot through Sokka. “So the sharing food, and the public goodnight kisses…”
“We do them. But we know they’re not for show. Not for us.”
“And the bed thing?”
Zuko’s arm tightened around him. “Especially the bed thing.”
Sokka grinned, shifting to prop himself up on one elbow. “You know, this is going to be the most convincing fake engagement in history.”
“Because it’s not fake.”
“Right. Because it’s not.” Sokka leaned down and kissed him, a sweet, promising press. “But we should probably get some sleep. Big day tomorrow of… practicing our non-fake relationship in front of your crew.”
Zuko groaned, pulling the discarded blanket over them. “They’re going to be insufferable. They already think you’re hilarious. Now they’ll think they’ve won some kind of pool.”
“There’s a pool?”
“There’s always a pool.”
Sokka laughed, settling back into the circle of Zuko’s arms. The cot was still too small, the ship still creaked, and the northern ice still awaited them with its web of formalities and watchful eyes. But for the first time since they’d stepped aboard, Sokka felt a deep, solid calm. He was exactly where he was supposed to be.
Just before sleep claimed him, wrapped in Zuko’s warmth, he felt Zuko’s lips brush his temple.
“I like you, too,” Zuko whispered into the dark, the words so soft they were almost lost in the sound of the sea. “For the record. A lot.”
Sokka didn’t open his eyes. He just smiled, linking his fingers with Zuko’s where they rested against his chest, over the steady, strong heartbeat. The stone of the betrothal necklace was a cool, comforting weight between them.
Outside, the waves carried them north.
Sokka woke to the empty, cold space where Zuko’s body had been. The lingering heat in the sheets was the only proof he hadn’t dreamed the whole thing. A steady sound of rushing water filtered through the cabin, followed by the scent of steam and Zuko’s sandalwood soap.
He cracked an eye open. The bathroom door was open a hand’s width, a sliver of lamplight cutting across the floorboards. He could see nothing but the opposite wall of the wet room. If he shifted a few feet to the left, the angle would change. He could see.
He stayed perfectly still. He would never peek. That didn’t mean he didn’t have to try his absolute best not to imagine the water sluicing over Zuko’s shoulders, down the scarred plane of his back, following the dip of his spine.
The water shut off. Sokka squeezed his eyes shut, then immediately opened them. He was a diplomat, not a saint.
Zuko stepped out. A towel, too short and worn thin, was tied low on his hips. His hair was piled in a loose, messy knot on his head to keep it dry. He reached up, undoing the tie with a practiced twist.
Dark, wet strands tumbled down his back and over his shoulders. As if that wasn't enough, something red and shiny caught the lamplight. Sokka was pretty sure Zuko was about to give him a heart attack.
Zuko had nipple piercings. Small, flawless rubies adorned both sides, glinting against his skin like drops of blood.
“Y-you most definitely did not have those yesterday,” Sokka blurted, his voice a dry croak.
Zuko turned, not startled. A smirk played on his lips, clearly enjoying the way Sokka was glued to the spot, his brain short-circuiting. “Had them for years. Just don’t wear them often. Have to put them in every once in a while so the holes don’t close up.” He shrugged, a movement that made the gems shimmer. “Hence the surprise appearance. It’s a Fire Nation thing. Super common.”
He said it like he was commenting on the weather. Sokka could only stare, his mouth slightly agape.
“Anyway,” Zuko continued, dragging the word out. “If you’re done drooling, you could pass me some clothes.”
Sokka mechanically picked his jaw up off the floor. He rolled to the edge of the bed and hauled Zuko’s travel bag over. “W-which ones?”
Zuko shrugged, using a smaller towel to rub at his hair. “Something comfortable. Sweatpants, maybe.”
Sokka found the soft, grey pants and tossed them over. Zuko caught them against his chest but made no move to dress, still looking at Sokka expectantly.
“What,” Sokka said, forcing his eyes up to Zuko’s face, which was a mistake because his smirk was even more devastating. “Are you actually going to wear a shirt for once?”
Zuko shook his head, droplets of water flying from the ends of his hair. “Probably not. But I do want underwear.”
Sokka turned back to the bag, his fingers fumbling with the drawstring. “Which ones?”
“Doesn’t matter. You pick.”
Sokka opened the inner compartment. He nearly died.
Neatly folded inside were numerous pairs of underwear. In silk, in fine cotton. In red and black. Mostly lace. Delicate, intricate patterns that promised to cover nothing and highlight everything. His mind supplied a rapid, unwanted image of the rubies against the black lace.
“Problem?” Zuko asked, his tone innocent.
“You packed a lingerie catalog,” Sokka managed, his face hot. He snatched a pair at random—black, mercifully solid silk, not lace—and threw them like a live eel.
Zuko caught them with one hand. “Those are fine.” He finally, mercifully, dropped the towel.
Sokka spun around, facing the wall, hearing the soft sounds of Zuko dressing behind him. His heart was doing something acrobatic behind his ribs. The previous night’s confessions had built a new, fragile bridge between them. This morning felt like Zuko was dancing on it, testing its strength, seeing how far he could lean before Soka fell completely apart.
“You can turn around now,” Zuko said, his voice closer.
Sokka did. Zuko had pulled on the sweatpants, the silk underwear, and nothing else. The rubies still glinted, an audacious secret on full display. His hair was a damp, dark curtain around his shoulders. He looked relaxed, confident, and utterly aware of the effect he was having.
“So,” Sokka said, scrambling for his usual footing. “Piercings. That’s… a thing.”
“It is a thing.” Zuko walked to the small desk, picking up a comb. “You should see the formal ones. Gold filigree with opals. They’re heavier.”
Sokka committed that image to memory, filing it under ‘Things To Ponder Later When I’m Alone.’ “Do they… I mean, does it…?” He gestured vaguely at his own chest.
“Feel interesting?” Zuko finished, running the comb through his hair. “Yes. Temperature changes are… noticeable. So is fabric, sometimes.”
“Huh.” Sokka’s brain, still booting up, latched onto logistics to avoid meltdown. “We’re making port today. The outfitting station. You’ll need proper arctic gear. Layers. Insulated furs.”
“I know.” Zuko set the comb down. “I’ll wear a shirt for that part. I’m not actually trying to get frostbite.”
“Good. That’s… practical.” Sokka stood, needing to move. He sidestepped toward his own bag, putting the narrow bed between them like a buffer. “We should probably go up. Get breakfast. Do the… the feeding thing. In public.”
Zuko’s smirk softened into something more genuine. “Nervous?”
“Terrified,” Sokka admitted, pulling a thick tunic over his head. “Last night was… last night. This is different. People will be watching. Judging.”
“They were already watching.” Zuko came around the bed, stopping in front of him. He didn’t touch him, just stood there, a solid, warm presence. The rubies were right at Sokka’s eye level. “Now they’ll just be watching something real.”
He said it with such simple conviction. Sokka took a breath, the scent of sandalwood and clean skin filling his lungs. “Right. Real.” He reached out, hooking a finger lightly in the waistband of Zuko’s sweatpants, tugging him an inch closer. “Just don’t blame me if I get distracted by the new jewelry.”
Zuko’s golden eyes glittered. He leaned in, his mouth hovering just beside Sokka’s ear. “That’s the idea,” he murmured, his breath a warm shock against Sokka’s skin. Then he pulled back, all business, and headed for the cabin door. “Come on. I’m hungry. And you have to feed me.”