Zuko had made it a habit to always keep a couple hair ties around his wrist. Originally it was for practical reasons. His hair was long, ties snapped easily, and somehow they always disappeared whenever he actually needed one. Sokka, however, found this habit endlessly amusing. “You carry those around like a suburban mother,” he once laughed. Zuko ignored him every single time. And then you gave birth to your second child. A little girl. Suddenly, the hair ties became incredibly useful. Your daughter constantly waddled up to Zuko asking for him to do her hair, tiny brush clutched in her hands while he sat there with the most serious expression imaginable trying to perfect uneven ponytails and crooked braids. And every single time Sokka witnessed it, Zuko would glance at him with the most smug look possible. Take that, Sokka.