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Zuko lays with his head in Sokka’s lap, basking in the warm sunshine of the late summer day. Sokka lean’s over him, a thick book planted firmly against his chest from which Sokka reads aloud, soft lips recanting the words to Love Amongst the Dragons elegantly, brow furrowed slightly. One hand combs absently through the soft strands of Zuko’s hair, loose and unkempt.
The royal gardens are peaceful, with not but Sokka’s gentle voice to disturb the honey-sweet silence. They are alone. It is not often the two boys are afforded such a luxury. Surrounded by nothing but radiant fire lilies and fragrant sweet grass they savour the company of their love.
Zuko allows himself to relax fully against Sokka, lulled by his steady voice. His eyes drift slowly shut. Nothing but the soft golden light that filters through his heavy lashes ties him to the earth, so weightless does he feel. Sokka, generously, has started at the beginning. He will likely continue until his voice grows hoarse with use and the light grows dim and pink as dusk embraces them.
Zuko hangs on his words like nothing else in the world is real to him. It overtakes his every thought. He knows he must keep his eyes resolutely closed lest he become overwhelmed by his own affection. The feeling of Sokka’s fingers as they run through his hair. The low hum of his voice. The quirk of his smile and his brow. Face a gilded silhouette against the setting sun. It would surely be too much.
No, it’s better this way. This way he can prolong this most perfect afternoon.
Unfortunately, it’s not quite meant to be. No sooner had Sokka begun act three when Zuko feels a cold, wet drop splash against his cheek. Then a few more. Sokka stops abruptly in his reading, and Zuko opens his eyes to whirling purple-grey skies. A hot, humid wind whips against their faces, and Zuko, looking off into the distance, manages to pick out the approaching rain front where fat, round droplets pour down in sheets. It’s approaching fast.
“Run!” Sokka squawks, throwing his book into his bag before grabbing Zuko’s hand and making a break for it.
Not quick enough. The two are soon tearing through the downpour, soaked to their skins in mere seconds as the brutal torrent lashes against them. A minute of running offers temporary refuge under the leaky roof of an old gazebo, and there they are caught, not willing to bridge the much longer distance between themselves and the palace, barely visible through the rain.
Laughing and gasping for breath they stand hand in hand, chest to chest as they wait out the summer storm.
“I’m sorry your day was ruined,” Zuko laments, pressing his face against Sokka’s shoulder.
“What are you talking about? Today was perfect. How could it not be? We’re together aren’t we?” Sokka tilts Zuko’s chin up to meet his eyes, smile wide and brilliant. His damp skin and hair glow ethereal under the pale sky. Zuko can’t help himself.
Pushing Sokka away he motions for him to wait as he dashes back out under the watery sky. He stoops low, plucking a single crimson lily from the sodden earth before returning to Sokka’s side, tucking it affectionately behind his ear.
“There. Now it’s perfect.”
Sokka’s face splits into a sheepish grin. He presses their foreheads together, noses brushing, and Zuko can feel the heat rising in his cheeks. With a gentle touch he smooths the wet strands of hair from Zuko’s face, fingers trailing under his jaw, lifting him into an off-centred kiss, sweet and decadent.
Sokka isn’t able to contain his smile for long, pulling back with a warm chuckle. He fixes Zuko with an impossibly fond gaze.
“You know, I’ve been waiting a long time for some kind of perfect moment. Something you could cherish forever. But it’s impossible to choose one. And I can’t wait any longer.”
Sokka rummages briefly in his bag, removing something small, wrapped carefully in soft suede. He folds this back slowly, revealing a gleaming ring of emerald green stone, upon which two dragons have been lovingly carved, dancing around each other in an eternal embrace. While the stone is flawless, the carving shows a human hand, but the patience and skill are evident, and the slight imperfections only add to its splendor.
“Oh Sokka,” Zuko breaths, “it’s beautiful.”
Sokka blushes, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Yeah. I’ve been practicing.”
Zuko allows his fingers to brush the cool surface of the bracelet ever so delicately, almost afraid to shatter this perfect moment. He looks up at Sokka, who’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he worries his lower lip between his teeth, slightly nervous.
“Zuko,” he drags out the name, pausing like it’s something not only deserving but demanding to be savoured. “Will you do me a great honor, and accept my hand in marriage?”
Zuko had expected the question. Had know it since the instant he laid eyes on what Sokka had so loving carved for him. Yet still, he finds the wind knocked clean out of him. He staggers slightly, leaning into Sokka’s side, who wraps an arm around his waist to steady him. He gasps for his breath, laughing blissfully to himself and smiling wider than he thinks he ever has or will again.
“Sokka. Of course. Of course, I will marry you.” He murmurs.
Elated, Sokka rushed forward, capturing Zuko’s lips in a passionate kiss. They break apart, Sokka threading his fingers into Zuko’s hair, holding him close.
“Thank the spirits,” he whispers.
Zuko laughs at Sokka’s nervousness, and Sokka grabs his hand, slipping the smooth stone over his knuckles to rest on his wrist where his heartbeat can be felt, bold and fervent. He laces their fingers together, bringing Zuko’s hand up to his chest.
“You really like it?” He queries.
“I adore it.” Zuko assures. “Almost as much as I adore you.”
“I’m glad,” he sighs softly against Zuko’s lips before pulling him into a kiss, slow and deep and reverent.
The two sink into each other, all the world outside closed off by the seamless walls of rain around them, alone in infinity, bound in blissful solitude, praying to remain in this moment for eternity. They wait out the storm wrapped in each other’s arms, joined by something far greater than their softly spoken promises.