#no idea what was up with the spcing i tried

[petricorah]

How's about "love shown through weapon's maintenance" for a zukka prompt?

Ahh this was such a good prompt! I do wish i wasn't half asleep in a car to do it proper justice, but i hope you enjoy!

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Zuko woke in a cold sweat.

He panted, frantically attempting to catch his breath as the dregs of his nightmare melted off his body. His chest was tight, and he felt like his throat was closed off. He looked wildly around his room but was met with abrupt darkness. He flicked his hand to produce the flame, and only sparks erupted from his hand.

He grit his teeth. Of course. Of course this was still a problem.

He'd been stressed for months, between his new duties as firelord and assassination attempts, and more and more, and for some reason, his ability to bend had dwindled, which had done nothing but increase the stress.

No one knew, of course. He'd kept it close to him. He was vulnerable at this time, and he didn't know who to trust. And the idea of telling his friends...he was supposed to be stronger than this. After all he's been through, this is what was bested him? The stress of running a nation? He'd even gone to the dragons themselves and found a new way of bending, and now it was gone again? Did he have to go back?

Zuko felt the panic rise in his chest once more, that awful feeling that he hadn't been able to shake, and he groaned loudly, the sound echoing off the room. He shook his head and threw the covers off of him. They crumpled to a pile on the ground. In the dark, he reached for the spot on his wall where his swords were mounted and closed his hand around the joint hilts.

A smidgen of the panic clogging his throat dissipated, but not by much.

He took them off the wall and carefully crept out of the room.

Since the third assassination attempt, he hadn't slept in the firelord's chambers. That let him sleep a little better--mostly because he didn't like staying in what he still considered to be his father's room. In order to call attention to his new resting place, there were no guards stationed outside of his door. That was fine enough--the guards hadn't been able to stop the assassins the first few times, so it was better to not have any blood shed on his behalf, anyway.

And it made for an easier escape when he wanted to pace the grounds in the middle of the night.

He made his way through the palace. He had no idea where he was going. He had no idea what he was doing. Why he was going there. With his swords. He just--

The air on his sweat soaked skin made him shiver. He stood in front of the door, swords drawn, and didn't move.

This is stupid.

He grit his teeth and stepped away from the door, causing the wood under his feet to creak. He winced, and the door opened before he could decide on running or jumping behind it.

"...Zuko?" Sokka said sleepily, rubbing the back of his head. His hair was down, framing his face, and sticking up in every direction. He looked groggy and sleep logged. "What are you doing here?"

"That's how you open the door?" He snapped. "What if I was an assassin?"

Sokka squinted at him. "I could tell it was you," he said. "You always shift like that in front of my door."

What? "I do not!"

Sokka's eyes trailed down to his swords. "Were you coming to kill me?"

"No!" He snarled in a hushed voice. "How could you say that?"

Sokka laughed sleepily, a good sound that Zuko couldn't appreciate because he couldn't shove down the panic in his chest.

"Relax," he said. "Why are you here, then?"

Zuko grit his teeth and his eyes drifted away from Sokka's gaze.

"Ah."

"I thought we could spar."

Sokka chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Nah."

"What? You're awake now."

"You look pissed," he said jabbing a finger at him accusatorily. "And I'm still half asleep. That's a recipe for getting my head lopped out."

"I wouldn't do that to you," he said through his teeth. "How could you think that I would do something like that? Do you really think I've lost that much control--"

"Woah," Sokka said and put both of his hands on Zuko's shoulders, stopping him in his tracks. "Chill out."

Zuko could feel the warmth through the tips of his fingers, grounding him. His eyes had adjusted in the dark, and he could see Sokka's features. Soft and concerned.

"Stay here," Sokka said. He withdrew his hands and a rush of coldness fell over Zuko at their absence.

Sokka came back out a few minutes lter, holding something in his hand. He motioned for him to follow, and they made their way out to the moonlit courtyard.

"Give me your swords," Sokka said. He sat himself down on the grass, and Zuko followed suit, handing him the swords. The night breeze was cold, and sittinf in the damp grass was colder, but he did.

He watched as Sokka took the object in his hand and began to sharpen his sword.

"I can do that myself," he said.

"I know."

Zuko glared at him, but settled into his seat and watched as Sokka ran the stone across the blade.

"What were you told to do when you sharpen your blade?" Sokka said.

"It's a task," he said. "What do you mean?" It was simply something you did to take care of your weapons.

"My dad said that you should use the opportunity of sharpening your blade to sharpen your mind," Sokka said. His long hair fell forward as he leaned to see what he was doing. "When I was younger, I thought it meant to focus on the battle ahead. But now...I use it to clear my mind."

"Should your head be any emptier?"

Sokka rolled his eyes and jabbed him in the ribs. "The best sword works as an extension of your body," he said.

Zuko narrowed his eyes. Of course.

"So you have to take care of yourself like you would a prized weapon." He pressed the stone on the tip of the sword, and the metal bent downwards. "Just like stress can destroy a blade, it can destroy you, too." Sokka relaxed his shoulders and let out a long breath. "I think it's important to remember that."

Zuko was silent for a moment. Then--

"I can't avoid being stressed," he said, and he reached forward to take the swords back, pulling them from Sokka's grasp and putting them back together. "I wanted to spar and get rid of that stress. That's why I came to you. If you don't want to do that, then I'll leave--"

"Zuko," Sokka said. "Just sit down."

Zuko glared down.

"Please. To humor me. And then you can fight me and knock me out so I can go back to sleep."

Zuko's eyes narrowed to slits, but he slumped down.

Sokka sat with his legs crossed, looking like Aang when he meditated.

"You're kidding me, right? Are you an air nomad?"

"Remember when we went to the boiling rock?" he said. "And you used your breath to stay warm?"

"I've tried that," he said. "But every time I sit still, I just think about everything that I have to do, and everything that's happening and--"

Sokka reached over and took his hand, and Zuko immediately closed his mouth. "Just breathe with me for a bit."

Zuko kept his mouth in a firm line, but did. He expected Sokka to remove his hand, but he didn't.

Sokka took a big breath next to him, and Zuko hesitated, but did. He closed his eyes inhaled, filling his lungs, taking in so much that his chest ached and his back cracked.

And he breathed out.

And again.

And again.

"You know we have your back, right?" Sokka said softly from beside him. Zuko could feel the warmth from his palm over his, radiating throughout his body. "All of us. We're here for you."

Zuko could feel the tightness swirl inside his chest, panic flaring up, and a burning behind his glassy eyes. "I don't want you to have to be."

Sokka laughed. "Well, too bad. You have friends. I hated it when you made me do exercises for my leg and when you wouldn't let me train until it healed. I especially hated when it gave out and you had to carry me all the way back to the palace. But that's what friends do. And that's what I'm doing for you."

Zuko's opened one eye, looking at him. "By comparing me to a weapon?"

He laughed again, and this time, Zuko appreciated it. He appreciated how soft and carefree it was. How deep and grounded it sounded. How he could hear it at the middle of the night. How he was there to hear if.

"Yeah. By comparing you to a weapon."

Sokka took another deep breath, and Zuko did as well.

And, in one final exhale, he felt the flames curl out of his mouth, and warmth spread across his body once more.