‘ It’s alright I’m here. ’
“It’s alright, I’m here.”
His voice breaks through the brunt of her night terror and Azula’s eyes snap open, coming to focus on the fire still burning in the center of Sokka’s one room home atop the carved stone hearth. His hand is warm on her arm where he’s latched onto her in her sleep, and her own hands hover over her face as though to shield her from something.
Azula sits up in one fluid motion. The furs slide across her skin when a moment later Sokka follows her to a seated position, bent over his knees as he watches her carefully. She can feel his eyes on her back more keenly than even the warmth of his solid hand on her bicep in the moment previous.
They’re silent in the flicker of the flames, Azula’s breathing the only sound to be heard in the small hut. Sokka shuffles forward again, brushing the veil of her black hair over her shoulder, pressing his mouth to the white line of a scar that spans from her shoulder blade and up under her hairline. His breath is hot at the nape of her neck.
“You don’t have these bad dreams when we’re in Republic City,” he remarks, voice nearly swallowed by the oppressive quiet.
A shaking hand lifts to press against her brow again, and Azula lets out a sharp breath through her nose.
“Republic City is noisy,” she croaks in response, throat raw. Yes, she must have been screaming. “I don’t usually sleep deeply enough for dreams there.”
Sokka’s mouth travels lazily from the nape of her neck to her shoulder and then settles back at the crook of her neck with a popping smack of his lips. His arm has snaked beneath hers, his palm pressing against her opposing cheek, grasping her closer to him while he grazes his teeth against her skin.
The former princess’ eyelids droop, and she turns as best she can to look at Sokka.
“What are you doing?”
“Attempting a distraction,” he murmurs, “is it working?”
Azula hums a sound of consideration.
“What were you dreaming about?” Sokka’s voice rumbles from his chest and into her spine, reverberating in Azula’s belly.
She frowns and shakes her head.
“Come on, who am I gonna tell? Knowing your darkest secrets will only telegraph that we’re sleeping together, and we don’t want anyone to know that.”
Azula huffs, thinking that they’ve basically already announced it with her trip here, even if it is disguised as diplomacy. Not much goes unnoticed in the Southern Water Tribe. The community is still small, as yet, and Sokka’s not exactly great at hiding his feelings when he’s at home, she’s noticed.
“My mother’s bloated corpse, if you must know.”
There’s a pause. Sokka draws away slightly.
“I’m sorry,” he begins, voice smaller now. Azula waves a dismissive hand, turning to look at him.
“She was trying to drag me down with her…Sometimes I wonder if my father wouldn’t have killed me too, given time. I wonder how lonely she must have felt…how scared.” A thick swallow buries the words back in her lungs.
He reaches for her once again, fingers carding into her hair, bringing her face toward his so that he can press a tender kiss to her lips. He’s frowning, though, his expression pained. Azula regrets telling him as soon as the words have had time to settle into this private space between them.
“You’re free from them now,” he reminds her. “You’ve started over. Things aren’t the way they used to be. And you’re…You’re safe here…with me. I mean — We have our disagreements, and opposing views and…you drive me up the wall,” Sokka says, “but I would never…uhm…hurt you intentionally I guess.”
Azula snorts, but a warm feeling has started to grow in the pit of her stomach at his assurances. Yes, they may often be at odds, but she cannot say that she hasn’t grown fond of him at least a little.
Sokka clears his throat, cheeks dusky in the low light of the room. “Anyway I can…think of something for us to do if we’re not going to be sleeping…”
“Can you indeed?” She rolls her eyes and then smiles, settling back against the palms of her hands in the mound of furs they’ve buried themselves in.
“Yeah,” his grin has sharpened, “I can.”
