#bickering

Were you sometimes instigating the arguments that the two of you would spend ages referring back to and bickering on? Yeah. Did he almost always piss you off first? Definitely. The two of you just couldn’t seem to keep your mouths shut around each other.

Honestly, as much as it irritated you, it also comforted you, in some strange way. It was a constant in your life—something that’s been around so long that it would be weird if you didn’t snarkily comment on a stupid action he performed.

It meant that things were going smoothly and the only thing you really had to worry about was making sure he didn’t back you into a corner and prove you wrong.

And while you tended to argue during serious times as well, it wasn’t as light hearted as it should be. So debates about which supplies to buy in town were a lot more welcome than whose fault it was that the two of you were being chased by angry Fire Nation ships.

Those kinds of serious situations weren’t as common anymore now that you didn’t have to worry about the Fire Nation sending soldiers out for your heads. The worst it could get is getting on the bad side of some pretty capable pirates, and you’ve already done that before.

Thus, as the two of you walked through a heavily dense forest, your conversation quickly diverted into something silly.

“Can’t you carry some more?” You complain loudly, shifting the uncomfortably heavy baskets in your hold as you peek around them to glance at Sokka’s back. “It was your idea to buy all of this useless junk.”

“Useless junk?” Sokka repeats, utterly offended at the brutality of the terminology. “You have no sense of taste! You can’t just call this stuff junk! It’s future beauty!”

“Did your father say that when you were born?” You reply dryly. “How disappointed is he now?”

Sokka gasps. “Take that back. My face has always been beautiful.”

“I was raised to never lie to someone.”

“Oh, so you think you’re funny, huh? I’ll have you know that I’m the humor of this duo. Of our whole group, actually. You know, I think it’s safe to say that I’m the funniest person in the Earth Kingdom right now!”

“Do you ever do anything but praise yourself? Speaking of which, aren’t you the one always priding yourself on your ‘immense strength’?”

“Uh, it’s not ‘priding’ myself if it’s stating the truth. That’s just an observation.” He replies without turning back, carrying his own share of goods, two in his arms and one strapped to his back.

“Definitely.” You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the dull pain that was beginning to grow in your forearms. “Which means that you have the strength to carry more.”

“It wouldn’t be a struggle!” He says instead of an outright ‘yes’.

“So…?”

“Well, I could. But, you know, I just really don’t feel like it.”

“You don’t feel like it?”

“Gosh, I’m just so glad that you can hear!” Sokka chirps happily. “Sometimes you act like you don’t hear me. I was getting really worried about you.”

“I can hear you just fine, unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what that means.”

“Well, no, I don’t. Why don’t you enlighten me as to why? Because from what I’m hearing, which is outrageous, by the way, is that you don’t like hearing my lovely voice. But that just can’t be true.”

“What if it is?”

“It’d be a lie, which you were brought up to never do. Can’t go back on your teachings, can you?”

“It wouldn’t be a lie, actually.”

“It most certainly would. Why else would you keep talking to me if you didn’t want to hear my voice?”

“Because you’re annoying.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“You act like a kid. Grow up!” You stick your tongue out at him despite the fact that he couldn’t see you. The two of you were currently taking a so-called ‘shortcut’ through the woods to get to a village in the Earth Kingdom, which rested between two cities that you were transporting goods between.

(That, and the things that Sokka had begged you to buy because he claimed that they would serve as useful in the future. This included things like bits of oddly shaped metal and broken tools. You weren’t so sure.)

You were supposed to meet up with Toph and Katara there.

Now, listen. Sokka and maps were not a terrible combo. He had gotten a lot better at reading them. However, you feel like you’ve been walking for ages, and all you can see is trees, trees, and more trees.

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” You ask, looking around as best you can.

“Doubting me already? I was hoping you had a little more faith in me than that.”

“I have no faith in you at all.” You retort. “In fact, with the way things are going, I think I might have negative faith in you. There’s no trail beneath my feet at all!”

“It’s called a shortcut because no one takes it.”

“That’s not why it’s called a shortcut.”

“Don’t worry about the specifics.” He looks like he might wave his hand dismissively if they weren’t so preoccupied. “I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

Sokka groans dramatically, turning around to face you. “I know where we’re going, alright? Just leave all the tracking business to me. You can do whatever you want when we get to the village.”

You stare back at him as you slow to a stop. Then, you scowl. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Sokka rolls his eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He says that, but he always tries to do it anyway. He turns back around and marches forward into more trees, and you can already feel a headache starting to form.

If you weren’t all cozied up in a free room in the village by sundown, you were going to throw a fit.

—

…

Okay.

So.

There was a problem.

A big problem, actually. A huge problem that had hindered the progress that you two were making, if that was any at all. For all you know, Sokka could have been leading you the complete opposite direction than where you were supposed to be.

The problem unfolds like this:

“Do you hear that?” You ask, tensing up as you look around suspiciously.

“Your voice? Loud and clear, commander.” Sokka responds sarcastically. You don’t even register it at first, too focused on trying to pinpoint what exactly it was that had caused you to stiffen.

“No, shut up.” You shake your head, gripping the baskets tighter. “I thought I heard…whatever.”

Even if you had heard footsteps, it was probably one of yours. Besides, it’s not like Sokka would take you very seriously if you did mention it. When it really came down to it, he trusted you, but this wasn’t an active war zone, so you two brushed everything off like a joke.

“Okay?” Sokka continues to move forward, but you don’t really let your guard down yet. Maybe it meant that the village was nearby, and Sokka really had led you through a shortcut.

By now, the sun was starting to dip towards the horizon, and you were growing increasingly exhausted. You had stopped once for lunch, in which you had argued about how much you should have brought and how long this was going to take. It must have been a good three hours or so of walking by now, if the two of you had left at four.

You aren’t too keen on camping under nothing in a woods you were unfamiliar with. Your arms ache and the breaks increase in number.

“Couldn’t we have taken the longcut?” You groan, your legs stumbling as you push yourself forward.

“What, are you gonna cry? Man up, be a soldier.” Sokka puffs up his chest. You decide not to scream at him.

You’re just about ready to throw the baskets down and declare that you’re turning back when you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You stop dead in your tracks. You know this feeling. Your lips part and your eyes only get to widen just for a second before a sharp slice splits the air before you and a curved dagger’s gleaming point presses against your neck.

“Move, and you’re dead.” A heavy voice sounds behind you. At the moment, you’re weaponless. You’re not like Toph or Zuko or Katara. You can’t conjure the elements to save yourself now. Your bow and arrow are far from here and your own knife is tucked against your hip. You can’t move to grab it without your neck being sliced open.

At this point, Sokka has turned around. You can see a sliver of him, just the top half of his body, from where the baskets block your view. As he turns, his mouth is open like he’s going to berate you, and then he sees the dagger and whoever is behind you and his eyebrows shoot up and then furrow heavily.

Before he can say a word, another man jumps down from the covered branches above him, similarly holding a weapon to the back of his head.

Great.

Just great.

“I told you that taking this shortcut wasn’t a good idea.” You say weakly, your gaze flickering between the dagger and Sokka. His jaw clenches, his grip on the baskets tightening.

“I didn’t tell you to speak.” The man behind you barks, the sharp end of the knife pressing deeper into your skin. “Now drop them.”

You decide not to further prove the bandit. You have no idea how many people he has, just waiting for the opportunity to slice off your head, or how eager he is to do it himself. Besides, if all he wanted was the goods in the baskets, you’d be more than happy to just hand them over and be on your merry way.

The baskets drop to the ground. The man nudges your elbows and, begrudgingly, you keep your hands up where he can see them.

“Pockets, too.” He orders. “Weapons, money, everything.”

You grit your teeth and do as he says. For the most part. You still have your own dagger on you. You’re not too keen on a close combat knife fight, but if you had to do it, you would. Still, it’s risky. You don’t know if he has reinforcements. Sokka’s dropping his own supplies. You try to meet his gaze, but the man won’t let you.

Holding back a sigh, you drop your knife, as well.

The man—who is masked from the nose down and at least twenty years older than you—kicks things around as if trying to validate their authenticity. He looks over to the man with Sokka, who nods.

“Are we good to go?” Sokka asks, flexing his fingers.

You’re expecting a ‘yes’. Most bandits don’t care for anything but stopping travelers and taking their goods before abandoning them to the elements of the night. You could deal with that. Bandits never stayed too close to villages, so you’d probably have to venture all night to find the right way back, but you could deal with that.

“Hm.” The man behind you, who presents himself like the leader, brings the knife down from your throat. You let out a breath, your eyes flickering up to Sokka, who’s already looking at you with a strange intensity that makes you want to avert your gaze instantly.

It’s not you who breaks it, though. The masked bandit reaches up and grabs your chin, turning your head to face him. His eyes lock onto yours before they dart all across your face, his fingers twisting and turning the angle at which he examines you.

Then, he snaps his fingers and raises his left hand. The air behind you whooshes, and an unknown number of feet plant themselves into the earth.

“This one will bargain for a high price.” The masked man notes, and suddenly everything seems a hundred times more serious than you imagined. “Take him, as well. We can’t have him running off and telling, and I don’t want to bloody my hands tonight.”

Panic flashes on your face, and you scramble for something, anything that you can use against them. You hear Sokka yell, and your head snaps towards him just in time to see him crumple to the ground.

A frustrated cry escapes your throat and you whirl back around, your eyes scanning the darkening floor.

Before you can even dive for your dagger, something collides with the side of your head, and you collapse.

—

You come to at some time in the night.

The first thing you notice is the uncomfortable sensation of something wound around your ankles and wrists. You immediately recognize it as rope. Your back aches terribly, but it’s nothing compared to the soreness of your head.

You blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the darkness that is only barely illuminated by a few torches in the distance. Your spine presses against the rough bark of a tree, and your head pounds as you try to recall just how you got here.

It comes back in an overwhelming rush.

“Shit.” You whisper, fumbling with the restraints as you squint and try to look around. “Shit!”

“Shit indeed.” Someone responds. You jolt and snap your head in the direction of the voice, only recognizing it as Sokka’s after a moment too long. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Sokka?” You ask dumbly, trying to find his face in the darkness.

“One and only. Miss me?”

“I was knocked out. How could I have missed you?” You grumble, your eyes flickering between what you think is his face and the torches around you.

“Maybe you dreamt about me.”

“You wish.”

He laughs light-heartedly like the two of you aren’t tied up in a bandit’s camp and going to be auctioned off. Though, apparently, that’s just you.

“Can you take this a little seriously?” You basically beg, failing to kick at him with your restrained legs. “How long has it been?”

“Don’t know. It’s cloudy tonight. I woke up a while ago. I’d give it ten minutes.”

Shit.

This was bad. You’ve been wiggling your wrists around in the ropes, but all it did was press tighter and further irritate your skin. You could barely see a thing, and you didn’t know if there was anyone listening. You have no idea where your weapons are, or where you are for that matter.

“Why the hell did I follow you?” You ask, though it’s more to yourself than him.

“You’re acting like I planned for this to happen.” Sokka huffs. “Which I didn’t by the way.”

“I sure hope you didn’t.” You can’t even massage your head to attempt to soothe the pain. “Ugh, they got me bad.”

Sokka falls silent at that, like he actually feels guilty about it. His breathing stays steady, just barely loud enough for you to hear him.

“You’re not dying, are you?” He asks finally. You snort.

“I’m not that much of a loser.”

“Didn’t think so.”

It turns out that there’s not much to talk about when you’re being held captive by people who could be standing right behind you at all times. Devising an escape plan is necessary, but you have no idea where to go from here. You don’t have anything to slash the ropes or defend yourself.

“Do you think Toph and Katara will notice?” You try, even though ideas are not jumping into your mind at a good enough pace.

“At some point. I’d say that they were expecting us by…tomorrow evening?” Sokka hums. “Still, can’t say that they’ll know we got kidnapped by bandits.”

Ugh.

The only thing that makes sense is to fight back and run for it. The problem is that there’s no way that they’re going to willingly undo your binds, and even if they do, there are at least five of them. You don’t think any of them are benders, but you’re not going to take that chance.

You and Sokka are good fighters. Together, you make a good enough team. You just need your hands on some weapons, which, if they were smart, would be kept as far away from you as possible.

First things first, to fight back, you needed to know the real number of people you were going against. You couldn’t knock out five and call it a day. You’d get cut down by a sixth or seventh instantly.

“I hate you.” You mumble under your breath. “I hate you so much. I hate you. Why is this my life right now? I hate this. I hate you. I—”

“I get the feeling that you might hate me.” Sokka interrupts.

“Shut up. Don’t talk to me. I’m mad at you.”

“I had an inkling.”

“I said shush.”

For once, he obliges. You stare pointedly at a flame in the distance. Beneath it is a lousy makeshift tent that could barely house one grown man.

An idea pops into your head.

You would like to call yourself a smooth talker. Despite all your fights with Sokka, you know how to butter someone up and persuade them just enough to get your way. It comes with being brought up in a world where corruption and mistreatment spread like a cold.

Smooth talking might not get you anywhere, but pretending to be a poor, helpless, defenseless loser might. At the very least, they let their guards down and believe that you’re not a threat for as long as they keep you.

Except the thought of presenting yourself like that makes you want to throw up. If anything, you just wanted to do what you truly did best.

Cause an unnecessary scene. Argue. Fight back. Refuse to stand down.

Logically, you should just oblige and wait for a way out. But you don’t know how much time you have or what kind of people this group contains.

At the moment, all you feel is frustration and anger, and you need it out.

“Hey!” You yell up at the trees, stomping your tied legs on the ground. “Where is everyone? Come on, fight us like real men, you cowards!”

“What are you doing?” Sokka hisses, his shoulder colliding against yours harshly. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Just follow my lead. I sure as hell am not following yours again.”

“Don’t—”

“I know you can hear me!” You call louder. “I’ll scream all night if I have to!

“What are you even try—”

“Come down—”

“Will you shut your mouth?” That same heavy voice from earlier, the one belonging to the masked leader, comes from behind you. You straighten up, trying to find him. It’s not hard when he’s carrying light with him.

“Not if you don’t listen to me.”

Two other men stand beside him, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons.

“Do I need to bind your mouth shut?”

“You need to man up and fight me. If I win, we leave, and if I don’t, you sell me.”

Sokka shoves his shoulder against yours again. “What are you—”

The man on the right explodes into shrieking laughter, throwing his head back and howling up at the sky.

“Ha!” He exclaims wildly. “Do you hear this bitch, boss? She’s bluffing through her teeth!”

His crooked teeth are very apparent as he leans in too close for comfort. His hand slams down onto your head, his fingers grasping your hand and yanking it back.

“Hey.” He says solemnly, all laughter gone from his eyes. “When you speak to the boss, you speak with fuckin’ respect, alright?”

In turn, you spit in his face.

He reels back, wiping at his face with a disgusted cry. Then, the burst of anger comes. He surges forward and before you can even blink, a sharp, stinging sensation blooms across your cheek as your head snaps to the side.

“You bitch!” He yells, grabbing your head again. “Who do you think you are, huh?!”

“Hey!” Sokka shifts beside you, though there’s not much he can do to fight back, his voice laced with poison. “Get your fucking hands off—hey!”

The man only retreats when his boss grabs him by the collar and yanks him back.

“Did I order you to harm the captive?” He asks slowly, his eyes fixated on you. “She won’t sell for much if her face is messed up.”

“Did you not hear me the first time?” You huff back angrily. “I said—”

“I know what you said.” The boss cuts you off. “I’m saying you won’t sell for much once you’re cut down.”

“I won’t be cut down.”

“You seem confident.”

“You seem scared.”

“Hey, wait just a minute.” Sokka butts in. “What—you’re going to fight her for what happens to us?”

“You got a problem with that?” The man questions, leaning closer. “Would you rather take her place?”

“Y—”

“No.” You shake your head quickly. “I’m fighting. End of story.”

“The lady has spoken.” He leans back, waving his hand. “Clear the area around us.”

“Yes, boss.” The man who had attacked you grumbles, retreating with the other.

You had two options, now. You could fight, win, and leave, though you don’t know the bandits will uphold your end of the deal. On the other hand, you could get untied, pretend to fight, then run to untie Sokka and make a break for it.

But you weren’t a coward. You’re not going to throw away your honor by running away from a fair fight. If they tried to go back on what they said, then you could run. For now, you’re standing your ground.

“Got a choice in weaponry?” Boss asks.

“Give me the sharpest one you have.”

You end up with a makeshift spear. It’ll have to do. Torches are lined in a circle around you. You can finally see clearly. At the moment, there are six bandits, including the boss, in sight. There are definitely more of them.

Sokka is still propped up against the tree trunk, his expression dark and his entire body tense. He doesn’t protest. You’ve already shot him down enough to get it through his thick skull. This is your only way out right now.

“Out of the ring, out of the fight. You pin the other person to the ground, you win.” Boss says, holding the same dagger he used to stop you hours ago. “Your move first.”

“That’s nice of you.” You reply, twirling the spear before jumping forward.

Boss is fast. He’s quick on his feet, leaping out of the way at the tip of your spear thrusts into the space right where his shoulder had been.

The difference in weapons was going to serve as a bit of an obstacle. A spear required distance. A dagger required proximity. If he got close, you could jab the spear up, but not at the same speed. If you stayed far, the only thing he could do was throw the dagger or try to run.

You’re trying to end this early enough to be out of these woods by sunrise.

He strikes like a sea serpent, his movements sharp and concise. You step out of the way and jab your spear into the blade, trying to knock it out of his hands. His grab stays solid, and he pushes back instead, sending you stumbling backward and trying to regain your footing.

He takes advantage of that choice, leaping forward with the dagger poised to stab into your collarbone. Your feet righten themselves just fast enough to turn your body to the side. It nicks your skin, rips it just enough to draw a couple beads of pretty red blood, but nowhere near enough to matter.

The bandits cheer in unison around you. You clench your teeth and twist your weapon beneath you, jabbing the end of it beneath his ribs as he passes you.

It should have stopped him, should have knocked a bit of wind out of him at the very least. Instead, he just grunts and whirls back around, posing defensively.

The asshole is wearing armor. You didn’t get any armor!

With even more rage filling your body, you stab forward, trying to find any uncovered spots that would prove useful to cut. He predicts nearly all of them, the clashing of steel sending metaphorical sparks into the air around you.

It gets quicker. More precise, less precise. You’re letting your irritation take hold of you, making you more sloppy. You’re sure that your skin is riddles oozing cuts, none of which are serious enough. You just need to get him on the ground or out of the ring somehow. The latter seems easier, but you’ve been fixed in the very center and he doesn’t seem keen on moving to the edge.

Think. What’s the best course of action here? Running to Sokka is an option, since none of them are standing too close to him, but in the time that it takes to cut his ties, they’d be on top of you. You could continue to fight, but at some point, you could mess up and lose your dignity, freedom, and only chance at escape.

Earlier, you had thought about putting up an act. Playing innocent. It was far too late for that now, but acting was never out of the question.

Which meant…

Boss swings the dagger back and forth as he suddenly begins to overtake you. The closer he gets, the harder it is to react in time, to block his attacks. This is perfect for you.

When a swipe gets a little too close to your neck for liking, you yank up the handle of the spear, though you let the grip of your shoes loosen as you hold the spear up lightly. Then, when he hits you again, harshly, you dramatically throw yourself backward with a cry, falling to the ground and rolling a few times more than necessary, just for show.

The spear clatters away, just close enough for you to reach out when needed. You can feel the post of one of the torches against your back. If you did this right, then you should have landed in front of Sokka.

You keep your face hidden as your shoulders shake. Cheers from the bandits arise, and the footsteps of the boss send vibrations through the earth beneath you. Closer. Closer. Your fingers twitch in the direction of the spear.

“You talked a lot for such a little show.” Boss says smugly from somewhere above you. He’s not close enough yet. Another step. He stops right in front of you. You peek up just to see him raise the dagger. The cheers grow louder, combined with a strangled noise behind you that could only belong to one man.

Now.

In a split second, you prop yourself up on your palm and swing your feet up from behind you, knocking them into his ankles. Boss stumbles back in shock, and you take the moment to your advantage, grabbing the sharp end of the spear and jabbing the butt of it into his stomach. He falls to the floor.

No time for pinning. You don’t know how angry his mob will get with your trick.

You spin around while the rest of them are stunned, locking eyes with Sokka who sits, gaping.

“There’s no time to marvel at my abilities.” You say quickly as you crouch beside him, slicing through the ropes as quickly as you can. The bandits are already running towards you two. “We’re getting the hell out of here.”

The moment the ropes tear, you yank Sokka up to his feet, ignoring whatever he might be trying to say to you. You grab his hand and run, the bandits too close for comfort behind you.

With all of them chasing directly behind you, it’s easy to not get cut off, not until after you’ve passed through half the camp and found your weapons.

“Shit, grab those!” You command, shoving Sokka in that direction, skillfully picking up the abandoned spear as well.

You don’t need to look back to make sure he’s following. You know he will be, and yet you do it anyway because you never know, really.

Just as you had hoped, he was carrying the important things, wisely leaving behind his stupid junk.

With that in mind, you keep your gaze forward and run like the wind.

—

“Holy shit.”

It feels like a dream when the two of you make it out of the woods, simultaneously collapsing at the side of a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. The bandits might have long since stopped chasing after you, but you were taking no chances with staying in those woods any longer.

You’ve just barely pulled yourself back up to your feet when Sokka’s hands grasp your shoulders tightly, spinning you around to face him. Before you can protest, he starts berating you.

“Alright, what the fuck was that?” He demands, shaking you back and forth.

“What was what?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows. “Oh! Me saving our asses?”

“You call that saving our asses?” Sokka scoffs. “That was—that was stupid!”

“We’re out of there, aren’t we?”

“Uh, yeah, at the cost of—” He cuts himself off, his eyes narrowing as his gaze flickers over your body, lingering on the cuts you had sustained both in the fight and through the endless brush slapping against your skin as you tore through the woods.

“Those? No big deal. I don’t even think they’ll scar a day.” You brush him off, reaching up to grab his wrists and pry his hands off of your shoulders.

“That’s not the point!” He drops his hands reluctantly, one of them immediately coming back up to tug at a loose lock of his hair.

“Then what is it?”

“That you took that risk.”

“That’s kind of what life’s about, Sokka. You can’t do anything if you don’t take risks.”

“What’s life’s about? You didn’t need to do that! At all!”

“I definitely did. How else would we have gotten out?”

“How—any other way, that’s how!” He throws his hands up in frustration, shaking his head. “Why would you ask to fight?”

“Because I know how to?” You scrunch your nose up. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Barely. And again, you got all messed up.”

“I would’ve gotten ‘all messed up’ no matter what we did.”

“No, you wouldn’t have. Not like this.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that you shouldn’t have thrown yourself into a fight like that with no backup.”

“Where was I supposed to get backup from?”

“Me! I was right there!”

“You were tied up!”

“You could have untied me!”

“I did!”

“Yeah, after the fight!”

“Ugh!” You groan, covering your face. “We got out of there, what more do you want from me?”

“I want you to understand that it could’ve gone a lot worse.”

“Well, it didn’t.”

“It could have.”

“What does it matter?” You ask, crossing your arms. At this, Sokka grows increasingly baffled.

“Are you insane?” He practically shrieks. “Oh, you know, maybe he would have cut you badly enough to kill you, or have won and sold you to some underground market, but obviously that’s not serious at all.”

“I could have gotten out of that.”

“No, you couldn’t have. Stop trying to act so tough. You’re not.”

“Are you calling me weak?” You glare at him, your lips turning down into a frown. “I thought Suki beat the misogyny out of you already.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m—I’m supposed to—you can’t just throw yourself into a fight like that without relying on other people. I thought Aang taught you that already.”

“Oh, right, because I was supposed to trust you to have my back. Might I remind you who got us kidnapped in the first place?”

Sokka has the decency to wince at that, taking a step back. “You know I didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, well, you did. After all, it was your idea to cut through—”

“I know it was my fault!” He interrupts, a strange tinge of regret laced in his words. “I’m sorry, okay? Do you want me to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness?”

“I wouldn’t say no.” You reply.

“I’m—I’m being serious right now, okay?” He warns. “I didn’t mean to get us captured, and I sure as hell didn’t mean to get you sliced up in that fight. Because I told you to take the shortcut, not do that!”

“What do you want me to do, Sokka?” You ask, exasperated. “It’s in the past now. I can’t exactly go back and change my course of action.”

“I want you to maybe value your life a little more.”

“I value my life plenty.”

“Clearly not enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I—I just don’t understand why you’re so adamant on throwing yourself in harm’s way all the time. There are other ways to go about conflict.”

“That’s just the way I know best.”

“Yeah, well, I hate it.”

You don’t know what to say to that. An awkward silence falls, and you find yourself suddenly unable to look him in the eyes.

“Are…are you okay?” He asks lowly, his voice a lot softer than it had been earlier. “Nothing that needs to be stitched up?”

“Nothing of immediate concern.” You confirm, reaching up to poke at the cut on your collarbone.

Sokka steps forward, hand hesitantly coming up to pull yours away, his thumb brushing against the dried blood.

“When I was younger,” he begins, his gaze fixated on the cut, “there was a time where I was obsessed with proving myself worthy. I mean, Katara was a waterbender, and I was just…me.”

“I have nothing to prove.” You reply. “That’s not why I do this.”

“Let me finish.” Sokka shakes his head. “My dad had to yank me out of the water one day, because I was convinced that if I tried hard enough, I’d learn. And…and he was afraid. And it was weird to me, because my dad was never afraid.”

You let him keep going.

“He was afraid for me, because he didn’t like seeing me in danger. Hurt. Trying to do things that would only harm me.”

Oh.

“If you were worried about me, you could have just said so.” You say gently, your eyes watching the movement of his thumb. “I wouldn’t have teased you that bad.”

“When you fell, I knew you were faking it. It was too…off. Too weird and forced. But it still felt like you failed. And I thought…that you had finally pushed yourself too hard and were going to face the consequences.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Too much for my own good.”

Sokka clears his throat quickly, dropping his head. He looks down at you and clasps your shoulder. “What I’m saying is that you need to stop worrying other people with your recklessness and start actually using your words to make plans like I do. Okay?”

“I don’t wanna be like you.” You frown.

“I don’t want you to be like me. You’ll taint my reputation.”

You stumble over the same measure again. 

He sighs, exasperated at your stupidity. 

“You idiot,” he says, “this finger, here.” He taps your hand. “How many times till you get it?”

You pout, not responding. 

“What? You've got a problem?” 

You stand abruptly, “I don't want to learn anymore.” 

You try to squeeze past the bench but he grabs your waist and sits you back down.

“Throwing a tauntrum- what are you, a little kid?” 

You mumble under your breath, “I'm not the one who throws tantrums.” 

"Huh?" he growls but he's gentle when pulling you closer to him. Your hips press against his. 

Still annoyed, you grab the hand on your waist and push it off. Even if you can’t leave, you can ignore him. 

The two of you sit in silence for a while. Then he sighs.

“If you have something to say, say it.” 

You cross your arms. “Even if I did, you'd have a problem with that too.” You mumble, “cause you’re a know-it-all.” 

“A know-it-all?” His brows lift.

“Yeah, a boring know-it-all.” But instead of firing back, he slowly leans his elbows on the piano, resting his temple against his palm. 

He watches you. "Finish your thought." His voice is surprisingly soft.

The lack of retaliation throws you off but you continue.

“You suck at teaching,”

"...And?" He waits.

Finally you admit your true thoughts, “I just… wanted to have fun with you.” 

That lands.

He looks at you differently. 

“So, you want me to be nicer?” 

“That's not what I-”

The bench creaks. He moves before you can finish.

His arms slide around yours, hands hovering over your fingers. 

“Then watch.” 

He lightly guides your fingers to the correct position. Each note he presses with you is warm. Gentle. Patient.

He plays the entire piece like that- wrapped around you, chin brushing your hair. 

When the last note fades, he doesn’t pull away.

“Still upset?” He whispers, close to your ears. 

You sigh. “How can I be?” 

He huffs softly– it was almost a laugh.

“Never learn, do you?” 

You roll your eyes, “If you’re critiquing my playing again–”

“Listen.” He laces his fingers into yours. Tight.

“I don’t take you being here for granted,” he holds his breath, “I know it won’t last forever.” 

You turn back to respond but he leans in quickly. A brief press of his lips against yours. Finished before you can process it.

“That’s all I’m gonna say.”

And just like that, he lets go, grabs his cigarette case, and escapes to the patio like nothing happened.