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It happened on the first day of summer during a state banquet held in Capital City, in honour of the start of the year’s hottest, driest season — the season of the Fire Nation, during which the nation’s benders would be at their most powerful. The host of the banquet, Fire Lord Zuko, was seated at the head of the long, rectangular table, with Avatar Aang seated on his right, and Sokka, the ambassador of the Southern Water Tribe, on his left.
The evening had gone off without a hitch up to that point. The banquet hall had been exquisitely decorated in brilliant shades of red, orange, and yellow, with centrepieces of fire lilies arranged along the full length of the table, and strings of paper lanterns hanging from the rafters above, casting a warm, golden light over the space. The who’s who from each of the four nations were in attendance, seated so that everyone would have at least one familiar face nearby, while still allowing for introductions to be made.
Speeches were in order, as the first course of desserts was being distributed by the banquet staff. The Fire Lord waited until everyone had been served before clearing his throat to call the assembly to attention. Just as Zuko made to stand, Sokka reached out his hand and tucked an errant lock of dark hair behind the man’s ear. A smattering of gasps rang out amongst the dinner guests, and Zuko himself found that his breath had caught in his throat at his friend’s kind gesture.
“Sokka,” Aang whispered urgently, regarding his friend with wide eyes. “You shouldn't do that here!”
“Do what?” Sokka questioned, popping a spoonful of sweet custard into his mouth.
“Touch someone’s hair!” Aang hissed, glancing down the table in order to gauge how many people had noticed the ambassador’s blatant faux pas. A number of Zuko’s ministers were seated nearby, all of whom were staring open-mouthed at Sokka as though he’d just murdered a clutch of baby turtle ducks right in front of them.
“It’s fine, Aang,” Zuko murmured quietly so that only the two men closest to him would hear. “It’s not that big a deal.”
As though nothing odd had happened, Zuko got to his feet and began his formal address, thanking those assembled for making the long journey to the capital to celebrate the start of the season with the people of the Fire Nation.
Sokka followed Aang’s gaze down the table, pausing on a number of people who were choosing to whisper to those around them instead of listening to Zuko’s message. Frowning, Sokka turned to look at Zuko, who cut a fine figure in his resplendent silk robes of burgundy and gold. From afar, he was sure that the Fire Lord’s perfect posture and sober expression belied his discomfort, but from where Sokka was sitting, he could see a bead of perspiration rolling down Zuko’s temple, and the trembling of the man’s hands at his sides.
Wanting to reassure his friend about his vastly improved public speaking skills, Sokka slipped a foot out of his sandal, stretched his leg out, and ran his bare toes along Zuko’s calf. The suddenness of Sokka’s touch caused Zuko to stumble over his words mid-speech, and his cheeks to flushed bright red. Abashed by his failed attempt at soothing Zuko’s nerves, Sokka shrunk back into his seat, avoiding his sister’s stern glare from beside Aang.
A smattering of polite applause pulled Sokka from his sulking a minute later, as it signalled the end of Zuko’s speech. A dignitary from the Earth kingdom rose from her seat to propose a toast to the generosity of the Fire Nation for “such a splendid evening.” Sokka ignored her completely in favour of sneaking a hand under the table and grabbing Zuko’s sweaty palm.
“That was great,” Sokka said under his breath, shifting closer to Zuko as he laced their fingers together beneath the table cloth, where no one else would be able to see them. “Just like we practiced.” Zuko's eyes remained fixed on the woman speaking, but the corner of his mouth twitched in what Sokka chose to interpret as a secret smile meant just for him.
Once the speeches were over and the waitstaff had returned to collect empty dishes and pour more drinks, Sokka turned his attention to Katara, whose resigned expression and frequent sighing were starting to irk him.
“Katara, what is your issue?” Sokka asked, staring at his sister in confusion. “Zuko did a great job with his speech, for one thing, and I haven’t even used the wrong spoon yet.”
“Yes, you have,” Zuko and Aang chimed in together.
“Wha—why didn’t you say anything?!” Sokka exasperated, glancing between the three of them. “Come on, you guys, I’m trying to make a good impression here — you know, show people that folks from the Southern Water Tribe aren’t a bunch of ‘blubber-eating snow savages’.” He spat those last few words out like they’d left a sour taste in his mouth.
“Maybe if you spent more time studying Fire Nation customs instead of making goo-goo eyes at Zuko all the time, you wouldn’t look like such a meat-head at these events,” Katara snapped, crossing her arms in annoyance. Without warning, the water in Sokka’s glass rose into the air in a shimmering, wet ribbon, and then shot towards him, splashing him in the face.
“Hey!” Sokka groused, reaching for a cloth napkin with which to dry himself off. “Katara, what was that for?”
“It’s typically frowned upon in the Fire Nation to touch someone's hair,” Zuko explained gently, drawing Sokka’s attention away from his sister, “especially if you aren't a member of their immediate family. Hair is a symbol of honour in the Fire Nation, so to touch it is considered a very intimate gesture.”
“What are you talking about?” Sokka asked him, bewildered. “I touch your hair all the time. I literally braided it for you yesterday, when we were—”
“In my private rooms, yes,” Zuko finished, giving Sokka’s hand a squeeze. "Not in public."
“It’s pretty much the equivalent of kissing Zuko right on the mouth in front of everyone here,” Aang offered helpfully. “With tongue.”
“Aang…” Katara sighed, covering her face with her hand. “Could we try to have a bit of tact here, please?”
“Sorry,” Aang apologized, masking his snickering laugh with a forced cough. Unlike Sokka, he preferred to drink his water instead of wearing it.
Sokka glanced down the table at the gossiping dignitaries, his brows furrowed in disbelief. How could such a simple gesture be seen as inappropriate? He knew there were some big differences in Fire Nation etiquette in comparison to the manners he’d been taught by Gran Gran during his childhood, but touching a friend’s hair was wrong?
Thankfully, Zuko didn’t look all that upset with him. He ran his thumb across Sokka’s bony knuckles in a show of comfort, their hands still joined together beneath the table and resting atop his knee. He was a surprisingly patient man once a person really got to know him, and it was pretty difficult to ruffle his feathers. His violent outbursts and fiery temper were a thing of the past, for the most part; Sokka hadn’t been on the receiving end of a single fire attack since before he’d come to live in Capital City a year ago (for which he was very grateful).
Still, Sokka spent far too long silently brooding over his honest mistake while Zuko engaged an aide in discussion regarding the preparations for upcoming festivals. Katara wouldn’t even look him in the eye now, she was so annoyed by his behaviour; Aang, in comparison, had his signature ‘let’s all get along’ smile pasted on his face, unwilling to take sides between his girlfriend and her brother.
“I, uh, think I need some air,” Sokka mumbled after a few minutes more, slipping his hand out of Zuko’s grasp. The room suddenly felt stifling, and he couldn’t stand to be there even one more minute. Zuko frowned as Sokka stood up from the table, regarding him with concern, but remained at the head of the table instead of following after him, as it was expected of him as the banquet’s host to stay for the entirety of the dinner. Aang and Katara were too busy chatting with the emissary from the Northern Water Tribe to even notice his departure.
Sokka made a beeline for the closest exit — an archway opening onto the balcony that was covered by a set of wispy curtains that shifted with every breath and gust of the breeze. He brushed past the smooth, gauzy fabric and out onto the small balcony, which — thank Tui and La — was unoccupied. He wasn’t sure he could handle any nosy questions about his friendship with Zuko from some random Earth Kingdom delegate’s socialite husband.
The night was warm, the stone walls and clay shingles of the palace having held onto the sun’s heat even after it had dipped below the horizon. Sokka slipped his sandals off by the archway and padded barefoot to the balcony’s railing, peering over the edge into the cool, still waters of the turtle duck pond below. Zuko always found such peace sitting on the edge of the pond, feeding bits of vegetables to the birds that lived around it; perhaps Sokka should give that a try. After all, peace was the last thing he was feeling just now. Mostly, he felt like a real idiot. Why was living in the Fire Nation — conforming to their unspoken rules and a lifestyle so very unlike that of his tribe — proving so difficult?
When Sokka had taken up the ambassador position at his father’s suggestion just over a year ago, he had been so excited at the prospect of living close to Zuko, whose friendship he had come to treasure during their time travelling with Aang, Katara, and Toph. It would be an enormous change, he knew, from the buildings he would live and work in to the clothes he’d have to wear, but Sokka had figured that if he could invent and design a waterbending-powered submarine, he should be able to fit in amongst the Fire Nationals, no problem.
And yet, there were still so many things he didn’t understand after a year of immersion in Fire Nation culture. Why couldn’t he touch Zuko’s hair in front of other people? Why didn’t Zuko’s ministers care to hear his thoughts on rebuilding the Fire Nation? Why did all the girls that lived in and around the palace laugh hysterically every time he tried to ask them anything important? He loved being able to play Pai Sho with Iroh in his free afternoons, and spending quiet evenings with his head in Zuko’s lap, being read aloud to from whatever novel or poetry book the Fire Lord had taken a liking to that week. Why couldn’t everything be so simple?
“Hey,” a warm, familiar voice called out from the doorway. “Everything okay?”
Sokka glanced over his shoulder at Zuko and shrugged. “I’ll be fine,” he muttered.
Zuko’s robes swished softly as he crossed the balcony to join Sokka in his pond-watching endeavours. He rested his arms atop the smooth wooden railing and shifted closer until the side of his body was pressed firmly against Sokka’s.
“I’m sorry we have strange traditions,” he said, turning his head slightly so that he could see his friend with his good eye.
“They aren’t really that strange,” Sokka sighed, his head falling forwards in quiet defeat. “I’m just not used to it all yet — how different things here are from the way it was back home.”
“Of course you aren’t,” Zuko said with an amused snort. “You’ve only been in Capital City for a year, and most of that has been spent here in the palace. I’ve kept you all to myself instead of encouraging you to get out into the city and meet the real Fire Nation. The vast majority of people live outside these walls, and they’re the ones you should be spending time with if you want to know more about our culture and customs. Every time I go out into the markets and villages, I learn something new, and I’ve lived here nearly all my life.”
“Right,” Sokka nodded, perking up a bit at Zuko’s encouragement. “So, you don’t think Katara was right? About me not knowing anything about the Fire Nation?”
“Sokka,” Zuko said, smiling at him fondly, “I’ve been ignoring that stupid rule since the day I met you. Who cares if you play with my hair in front of other people? Anyone whose opinion really matters already knows that I’m crazy about you.”
“They do?” Sokka asked, his eyes going wide. “I mean, you are?”
“Entirely,” Zuko said in earnest. Turning to face Sokka head-on, he reached out and undid the tie holding the ambassador’s wolf tail in place. Zuko tucked the ribbon into the pocket of his robes for safekeeping before sliding his fingers into Sokka’s thick hair, which provided him with just enough leverage to pull his wide-eyed friend into a long-awaited kiss.
The chatter coming from within the palace walls fell away, leaving the two men in their own little world on the secluded balcony as they wrapped themselves in each other’s embrace, finally acknowledging so many words that had gone unsaid between them for far too long.
“I’m not going to get arrested for this, right?” Sokka asked against Zuko’s lips a few minutes later, twisting a tendril of the Fire Lord’s long hair around his index finger as a gesture of affection before giving it a gentle, teasing tug.
“Probably not,” Zuko laughed, leaning back in and kissing Sokka soundly in the hopes that his friend would stop talking and use his mouth for more important purposes.