"Ryang-ha Song is dead. The real one, for quite some time… and the fake one, in the eyes of society. This man before you is of no value to you now. So our relationship… ends here.”
summary: When one of Sokka’s inventions explodes in the middle of his workshop, his first instinct is to shield you completely, proving once again that he’ll always put your safety before everything else, even his favorite creations.
By now, spending time in Sokka’s workshop had become routine. Comfortable. The kind of routine neither of you really talked about, but both secretly loved.
You’d show up sometime in the afternoon, usually carrying food or tea because Sokka got so focused he forgot basic human needs, and he’d immediately make room for you beside whatever disaster-project he was currently obsessed with.
Today was no different.
“Well,” you said carefully, staring at the strange collection of gears and wires spread across the table, “that certainly looks… complicated.”
Sokka grinned without looking up. “That’s because it is.”
“Good explanation.”
“I know.”
You rolled your eyes fondly, settling onto the stool beside him while he continued adjusting something impossibly tiny with intense concentration.
The workshop was warm today.
Sunlight filtered through the windows, catching dust in the air while tools and scraps cluttered nearly every surface. Somewhere in the corner, one of Sokka’s older failed inventions made an occasional concerning clicking sound.
You pointed toward it. “That thing’s still alive?”
“It’s not alive.”
“It sounds alive.”
“It’s thinking.”
“That is significantly worse.”
Sokka laughed quietly under his breath. Gosh, you loved that sound.
“You know,” he said after a moment, “most people don’t willingly spend hours sitting in a workshop watching someone work.”
“Most people don’t have you in the workshop.”
That got his attention immediately.
His hands paused over the device as he looked over at you, smiling in that soft, helpless way he always did whenever you said something affectionate unexpectedly.
“…You do that on purpose,” he murmured.
“Do what?”
“Make me completely forget what I’m doing.”
You smiled innocently. “Seems like a you problem.”
“Definitely a you problem.”
Still smiling, he reached over blindly until his hand found your knee, squeezing lightly before returning to work.
Casual touch.
Constant touch.
Sokka had gotten clingy over time, though he’d deny the word dramatically if anyone else used it.
But with you?
His hands were always finding you somehow.
Your wrist.
Your waist.
Your knee.
Like reassurance. You didn’t mind. Not even a little.
A while later, you ended up helping him organize metal pieces while he explained another one of his ideas with growing excitement.
“And then,” he said, gesturing animatedly with a screwdriver in hand, “if I angle the release mechanism correctly, it should create enough pressure to- ”
A sharp snap interrupted him.
You both froze.
“…Was that supposed to happen?” you asked slowly.
Sokka stared at the invention.
“…No.”
And then everything happened at once.
A loud crack echoed through the workshop as part of the machine sparked violently, metal jerking sideways with an awful screech.
“Sokka- ”
“Move!”
You barely had time to react before he grabbed you. Hard. One arm wrapped around your waist while the other came up protectively around your shoulders, yanking you straight against his chest as he twisted sharply, turning his body between you and the exploding machine.
Something shattered.
Metal clanged violently against the wall.
You heard another sharp pop-
Then Sokka shoved you both downward behind the workbench just as sparks burst across the room.
For a second, all you could hear was ringing. Your heart slammed against your ribs.
Sokka’s arms were locked around you tightly, his body curved protectively over yours while debris clattered nearby.
Then silence.
Heavy breathing.
The faint hiss of smoke. You blinked slowly.
“…Sokka?”
“I’m okay,” he answered immediately. You realized then that he was still shielding you completely, one hand cradling the back of your head tightly against his chest.
Like his first instinct hadn’t even been to protect himself.
Only you.
“Sokka,” you said again, softer this time. He pulled back just enough to look at you quickly, eyes scanning your face, your arms, your shoulders.
“You hurt?” he asked instantly.
“No,” you breathed. “I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
His shoulders sagged in visible relief. Only then did he finally glance toward the disaster across the room.
You let out a disbelieving laugh, adrenaline still making your hands shaky. “You think?”
That finally seemed to snap him fully out of it. His attention whipped back to you again immediately, hands moving over your arms carefully like he was double-checking for injuries he might’ve missed.
“You’re really okay?” he asked again, quieter now. The concern in his voice made your chest ache a little. “I’m okay,” you repeated gently.
His jaw tightened slightly.
“You could’ve gotten hurt.”
“But I didn’t.”
“Because I moved you.”
The words came out sharper than he meant them to. Not angry at you. Angry at himself. You noticed instantly. “Sokka,” you said softly, reaching up to touch his face. “Hey.”
His eyes flicked back to yours.
“You protected me,” you murmured.
His expression shifted slightly at that. Like he still wasn’t satisfied.
“I should’ve checked the pressure twice,” he muttered. “I knew something felt off and I still- ”
“You didn’t know it would explode.”
“I should’ve.”
You smiled faintly despite everything. “You sound like Zuko right now.”
That earned the tiniest huff of laughter from him. Barely.
But enough.
Your hand slid from his cheek to the back of his neck gently. “I’m okay.”
Sokka looked at you for a long moment.
Then suddenly he pulled you against him again. Your breath caught softly as his face buried briefly against your shoulder. “You scared me,” he admitted quietly.
The vulnerability in his voice hit harder than the explosion had.
Your arms wrapped around him immediately. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” he said quickly, pulling back enough to look at you again. “No, not your fault.”
His hands stayed firm at your waist, almost like he needed to physically reassure himself you were still there. “You always do that,” you murmured softly.
“What?”
“Protect me first.” Your fingers brushed lightly through his hair. “You don’t even think about yourself.”
Sokka shrugged slightly, like it was obvious. “Of course I don’t.”
Your chest tightened painfully at how sincere he sounded.
“Sokka…”
“If something happened to you because of me- ” he stopped, jaw clenching briefly. “I couldn’t handle that.”
You looked at him quietly for a second. Then leaned forward and kissed him.
Slow.
Gentle.
The kind of kiss meant to calm more than anything else. Sokka melted into it immediately, one hand sliding up your back while the other stayed securely at your waist like he still wasn’t ready to let go.
When you pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours.
“…I really liked that invention too,” he mumbled suddenly.
You laughed softly in surprise.
“There’s the Sokka I know.”
“I contain multitudes.”
You smiled warmly, brushing your nose lightly against his. “Well,” you murmured, glancing toward the smoking remains of the machine, “on the bright side…”
“What bright side?”
“You saved me very heroically.”
That finally made him smile properly.
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
Sokka’s arms tightened around you again, softer this time.
“…Worth ruining the invention then,” he said quietly.
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