here’s a lil T-rated story about Zuko taking care of Sokka, after the war <3
“Hey sweetheart,” he says, kissing Sokka’s shoulder. “Bad hip day?”
Sokka makes a muffled groan under the pillow he’s thrown over his face.
“Magic hands?” he pleads.
“Magic hands,” Zuko agrees, smiling. He settles next to Sokka on the bed, pressing a kiss to his collarbone, warm hands settling at the socket of his hip.
“Ah, fuck, Zu.”
“Too much?”
“Fuck,” he says. “Yeah, but don’t stop.”
“You sure?” Zuko bends down to kiss his chest again and Sokka chokes a little, feeling the shape of Zuko’s mouth through his shirt.
“I’m sure,” he says. “A little more heat?”
Zuko grins.
“Oh, you want more heat?”
He slides his leg over Sokka’s, hands massaging deeper into his cartilage, and Sokka could weep from the release of it. “Baby,” Zuko murmurs, pushing heat into Sokka’s hip.
“It’s not that bad,” Sokka lies.
Zuko doesn’t argue with him; he’d do the same if he were in Sokka’s shoes now, and has. When neuropathy makes his face ache and sting, he rubs at it silently while he works, until he feels Sokka’s fingers settle around his, pulling his hand away. And Sokka doesn’t try to get the truth out of him either.
Bad day? he’ll ask.
It was fine, Zuko will say, one eye winced shut.
“I’m gonna take you to the hot springs one day,” Zuko says now, kneading. “We’ll take the week off and spend the whole time in the water.” He leans down to kiss Sokka’s chest again, lingering. Sokka lets out a little moan. “And I’ll hold you in my arms the whole time, sweetheart.”
“Zu,” Sokka says weakly.
“What?” he says. “I will.”
He wants to sit in the water with Sokka in his lap, arms around his waist. He wants to hold Sokka safe there while the hot salt takes his pain away. It feels monumentally unfair, looking at someone he loves so much suffer so much. Sokka’s the best person he’s ever known.
Zuko would take it for him if he could. He would take the pain for himself. It seems like he’s always suffered, and as long as he’s meant to suffer, why can’t he do it for Sokka? Why couldn’t he—?
“Baby?” Sokka mumbles sleepily, and Zuko realizes he’s gone still. He hums and starts massaging again, kneading warmth into Sokka’s hip. I love you, he thinks, watching Sokka’s sleepy, trusting face. I’d take it for you. And at the same time, in the way Sokka gives under his touch, in the way he smiles at Zuko in the mornings and nuzzles kisses against his neck, he’s started to think he doesn’t have to suffer at all.
After a while he can feel everything loosen under his hands, enough to back off. He kisses Sokka’s hip and lays down next to him, holding him.
“Never wanna move again,” Sokka mumbles.
“I’d carry you there,” he says, slotting his face against Sokka’s neck.
“It’s an island.”
“I’d get wet,” Zuko says stubbornly, and Sokka snorts.
“I love you, Zu.”
Zuko squeezes him tightly for one moment, two.
“I love you too,” he says. “More than anything.”
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