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For all the years of therapy he’s had, Zuko still has bad nights. He still has nights where he wakes up, his heart beating too fast and the memory of his dad’s face looming over him.
Tonight, unfortunately, is one of those nights. He jolts forward, breaking violently into consciousness. As he gasps for breath, the room around him is quiet and there’s a not unpleasant chill in the air. Besides him lies Sokka, still asleep (Zuko sends a silent thank you to the universe for that), snoring away.
Forcing himself to take deep controlled breaths, Zuko looks at Sokka’s face. He looks extremely peaceful, and the soft glow of moonlight that breaks through the window onto his face makes him look almost otherworldly.
Christ he’s lucky, Zuko thinks to himself, pulling his knees up and resting his face on them. Sokka’s one of the best parts of his life, and he’s been nothing but a good influence on him since he sat down next to him in his history class three years ago.
They’re both in their senior year of college now, and Zuko loves living with Sokka. He had initially been nervous about moving in with Sokka; he had been nervous that this would lead to the end of his first real happy relationship. However, those fears had been unfounded. He loves living with Sokka and loves sharing his life with him. He’s now nervous about what will come after graduation, about where their future will take them. He’s starting to seriously think that he wants to spend the rest of his life with Sokka, and he’s a bit apprehensive about confronting those feelings.
His hands are still shaking, Zuko notices, looking down at them. He sighs and knows that even though it’s 4 in the morning, he won’t be able to go back to sleep--at least not when his heart is still pounding so hard it feels like it’s going to burst from his chest.
Pushing the covers off of himself, he carefully and quietly--as to not disturb Sokka--peels himself out of bed. He leaves their room, shutting the door softly, and makes his way to the kitchen.
Their apartment is small, but Zuko loves it. It’s just big enough for them--one bedroom, one bathroom, and a kitchenette that overlooks a small living room.
Upon entering the kitchen, Zuko notices a group of bananas that are too ripe to use, and before he has time to properly think about it, he’s already reaching for the flour.
People are often surprised when they learn that Zuko can bake and that he’s fairly good at it, but it’s something that just makes sense to him. Setting a large bowl up on the counter, he carefully measures out two cups of flour and dumps it into the bowl. Next he reaches for some baking soda and salt and combines it all together, the repetitive movement bringing relief; his heart has finally calmed down.
When his mom was still around, baking was something he did with her; something that was just theirs. His fondest memories before she left are of the hours the two of them would spend together in the kitchen, flour covering the counter and both of them, and the smell of whatever was in the oven wafting through the house.
After his mom left and things deteriorated further in his house, he hadn’t baked for years. He refused to even consider it, not wanting to revisit those bittersweet memories. This changed, however, after a few years of living with his Uncle.
He’s not sure what caused it, exactly, but he had been left alone one day--his Uncle out managing his tea shop--and Zuko had felt particularly anxious about one thing or another. He had been rummaging through the cupboards when he came across a package of cocoa powder, and a quick google search and a few mixing bowls later, he had a batch of brownies in the oven.
When his Uncle had returned home later and noticed the pan of freshly baked brownies on the counter, he had raised his eyebrows at Zuko and told him he hadn’t known he could bake so well. Zuko had shrugged off the comment and simply said that it was something he used to do when he was younger. But after that, he had noticed more baking ingredients in his Uncle’s pantry, and occasionally his Uncle would ask him to make something to sell at his teashop.
A soft smile graces Zuko’s face at the memory. His Uncle was always more observant than he let on. He should call him soon, he thinks to himself as he continues.
In another bowl, Zuko adds in brown sugar and butter and mixes until it’s creamy. Then he carefully incorporates two eggs, a little bit of vanilla, and then adds in peeled and mashed bananas.
The only light in the kitchen besides the moon’s that’s shining through the window above the sink is from a tiny overhead stove light. Zuko works in the peaceful quiet, letting his mind drift off while his body works on autopilot, finishing the recipe. He does notice, in the back of his mind, that his hands have finally stopped shaking.
He mixes together his wet and dry bowls and stirs until the flour is incorporated just right. Then he (quietly) rummages through the cupboard for a moment before emerging, a loaf pan in hand.
He lines the pan with parchment paper, and carefully pours his mixture in, then gives it a good shake to even everything out.
He moves towards the oven, only to discover that he forgot to preheat it. Sighing, he sets the pan aside, and preheats the oven to 350 degrees. It’ll be awhile before it’s ready to cook, so he uses some of the time to clean up his mess.
A clean workstation makes for a happy baker, his Uncle used to tell him.
Zuko silently agrees, but he also doesn’t want to leave this mess for Sokka to find in the morning.
When Sokka first discovered Zuko’s occasional habit of baking, he immediately started pestering Zuko for cookies and brownies whenever Zuko had some free time. He had been happy to oblige, given his massive crush on Sokka, but it got to the point where Zuko just asked Sokka if he’d rather learn how to bake, instead of having to wait for Zuko to do so himself. Sokka had happily agreed, and had been eager to learn a new skill.
Their first baking lesson did not go...well, to say the least. Oh, they had enough fun during the lesson--Sokka throwing flour in Zuko’s hair, and Zuko constantly smacking Sokka’s hand to keep him from eating all the cookie batter. But, despite both their efforts, Sokka’s cookies came out burnt and too hard to eat. Instead of making a second batch out of the leftover batter, they had instead opted to sit on Sokka’s couch and share it as they watched and made fun of some cheesy movie.
To be fair, however, they had both been more focused on each other than they had been on the cookies themselves. They hadn’t gotten together yet and were still dancing around each other, both of them convinced the other didn’t return their feelings.
Lord, they had both been dense. It had taken months for them to finally admit to their feelings, and when they did everyone in their friend group had been relieved. Apparently their friends had had an ongoing bet on when they would finally get together.
As Zuko dries the last dish, he sees that the oven is finally ready so he puts in the pan. He sets a timer on his phone instead of the oven so he doesn’t wake Sokka, and goes to sit in the living room.
He starts scrolling through his phone, but his eyes feel heavy again. He decides to close them for just a minute.
As soon as he finishes that thought, he’s started awake by the chiming on his phone. Zuko lets out a small groan and is surprised he fell asleep so quickly. Stretching as he stands, he shuts the timer off and makes his way back to the kitchen, which now smells like freshly baked banana bread.
He grabs some oven mitts and carefully removes the loaf, setting it on the counter. Setting the oven mitts aside, he goes to grab a toothpick and gingerly sticks it into the top of the bread. He pulls it out and smiles softly when the toothpick comes away clean. Perfect. He then turns off the oven and stands back to admire his work.
Suddenly he feels two arms wrap around from behind him, and feels a kiss on his cheek.
“Hey,” Sokka says, his voice still thick with sleep.
“Hey,” Zuko says, reaching an arm around to pull Sokka closer to return the kiss.
“I woke up and you weren’t in bed, so I came to come find you,” Sokka says before burying his head in Zuko’s shoulder. “It’s, like, almost 6 am. I know you’re a morning person, but this is early even for you.”
Zuko leans back into Sokka’s touch, enjoying the comfort he feels in it and shrugs. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Sokka picks his head up, and turns it towards Zuko. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.
“I think I’m ok,” Zuko says. He knows he says that too much sometimes, but right now he really means it.
“You sure?” Sokka asks, his voice completely non judgemental.
“Yeah,” Zuko tells him with a small smile, “I’m sure.”
“As long as you’re sure,” Sokka says, then lets out a yawn and pulls away. “I’m headed back to bed. You coming?”
Zuko looks out the kitchen window, and can see a sliver of light breaking over the horizon, slowly shutting out the dark. In a few hours he has class; he could easily stay up and get an early start on the day.
But then he turns and looks back at Sokka, who’s still half asleep. He then thinks of their bed, waiting for both of them, and Zuko feels a wave of tiredness come over him.
“Yeah,” he says, taking Sokka’s hand. “Let’s go back to bed,” and he lets Sokka lead him back to their room.
Sometimes Zuko still has bad nights, but he knows those nights will always break through to forgiving mornings.
He falls back asleep in Sokka’s arms, and dreams peacefully until he wakes again.