#uhh it's 1am and i need to pack so imma que this oops

[that-was-anticlimactic]

22 with Zukka for the prompt list? Also hi :)

"Give me a brush. I'll fix your hair for you." + zukka

Zuko was angry.

He supposed that wasn’t that shocking—he was angry a lot—but the amount of genuine anger and frustration he was accumulating due to his hair, now that wasn’t fair nor normal.

It was stupid—he had to attend some dumb public event since he was the Fire Lord and stand at the side applauding politely, then say a few words. Really, he’d been through more stressful times in his life than that.

Even still, there was an hour left before he had to arrive, and he was getting ready in his chambers. Or, he was supposed to be getting ready. He was still in his sleeping robes, aggressively pulling a brush through his hair

Honestly, at this point, he was just beating his scalp.

No matter how carefully or slowly he ran the brush through his hair, it was still tangled. It still looked greasy, and even when he said “screw it” and just threw his hair in a top knot, he nearly chopped it all off because it looked terrible. The bumps at the top of his head were so large it looked like he hadn’t even brushed his hair in the first place!

Logically, he knew that his dad was far far far away right now and would in no way, shape, or form be attending the same event or see said event, but he couldn’t block out Ozai’s voice in his head telling him how big of a disappointment he was due to the state of his hair.

Zuko grunted, throwing the brush across the room and leveling the cursed object with a furious pout. It’s what the brush deserved.

“Hey, Zuko! I can’t decide whether I should wear my cobalt robes or my lapis robes. I know you don’t think there’s a difference, but I swear to you—are you okay?”

The angelic sound of Sokka’s voice caused Zuko’s face to shift from fury to a soft smile. He turned around, his fingers twitching when the brush left his sight because it needed to know how angry he was, and shot Sokka what he hoped was a soft look.

His boyfriend was also wearing his evening robes, something far too casual for the event they were attending, and it took everything in him to focus his gaze on Sokka’s face rather than his shoulder where the fabric was slowly slipping off.

In his hands were two tunics which absolutely looked the exact same color-wise, but he just chalked that up to Sokka being picky about his wardrobe (no, he wouldn’t acknowledge that he was unsure whether it was that or the fact that he couldn’t see properly out of his left eye).

Sokka’s hair looked impeccable, tied tightly in a wolf tail, much unlike his own.

“Sunshine?”

Oh, he’d been staring, hadn’t he?

“Sorry,” he mumbled, running a hand over his face and collapsing onto his bed. “I’m just trying to get ready.”

He watched as Sokka’s eyes flickered between Zuko’s tapping foot, his hair, and the brush on the floor behind him.

His face morphed into understanding and he carefully draped his clothes over the back of Zuko’s vacant chair, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Give me a brush. I’ll fix your hair for you,” he said gently, nudging Zuko’s foot with his own.

“Get it yourself, Lazy,” Zuko muttered, but either way he shifted his position so he could roll onto the other side of the bed and reached, swiping the brush off the floor and tossing the cursed object at his boyfriend.

Sokka poked at him with his finger (and Zuko tried not to melt at the way Sokka tapped in patterns of three—it was the nonbender’s favorite type of pattern, he did everything in three’s. It became Zuko’s favorite number as their relationship developed and became not only a form of comfort for Sokka when he had his bad days, but also for him) until he got the signal and turned so his back was to Sokka.

“Your hair is very pretty,” Sokka remarked, gently grabbing a small chunk of his hair and starting at the edges.

“It’s greasy.”

“No, it’s really not. You know I don’t like touching greasy hair. I wouldn’t touch it if it was greasy.”

They both knew that was a lie—Zuko’s hair was an exception.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong?” Sokka asked, twisting the edges of the now brushed section of Zuko’s hair while separating it into a second section.

“My hair.”

“I got that.”

“It’s not… it’s not perfect…”

And that was it, wasn’t it? The event wasn’t that big of a deal—in fact, it was so insignificant to him that he wasn’t quite sure what exactly it was, but when his hair wouldn’t work the way he wanted, he started getting stiff and on edge.

If his dad saw him like this… Zuko couldn’t help but shudder at the mere thought.

“Babe, Sunshine, light of my life,” Sokka began and oh how Zuko practically melted, “you don’t need to be perfect.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Zuko shot back. “But I do have to be perfect. Everyone’s watching me—I’m the Fire Lord! If I don’t look perfect then…” he trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut and attempting to focus solely on the feeling of Sokka’s fingers in his hair.

“Oh, I get it,” Sokka said softly. “This isn’t about your hair, is it, baby?”

Zuko just sniffed.

“I know I’m not the best person to talk to about being okay with things being imperfect, but something I’ve begun to learn over the years is that there’s never a time when everything’s perfect, no matter how hard you plan… or brush…”

Zuko chuckled.

“But something that you can always count on is me being there; you know I’ll always be there, right? Because I will be,” he continued. At this point, Zuko was certain Sokka had set the brush down and was just using his fingers, which was somehow more comforting despite the slightly uncouth method.

“Besides, you’re already perfect to me. You don’t need to try and please everyone else anymore. Quite frankly, they’re all idiots.”

Zuko laughed. It was quiet and more half-hearted than anything, but it was a laugh all the same. He could feel water beginning to pool in his eyes, and Zuko let out a choking gasp. “Sorry.”

“Shush, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I just… I saw my hair and it wouldn’t—it wasn’t right and I didn’t know what would—“

“Shhh.” Sokka coaxed him into silence, purposefully taking deep breaths along the way to remind him to breathe (which was really helpful since he had forgotten).

“It’s just me. No one else is here—he’s not here. It’s just you and it’s me. And I, personally, think you have the prettiest hair in the entire world, even when it’s greasy.”

Oh, what did Zuko do to deserve someone like Sokka in his life?

Sokka stopped running his fingers through his hair, and Zuko felt the bed shift as Sokka adjusted his position. The nonbender flung his arms around Zuko’s neck, holding him close.

“You’re going to have the best public appearance in the history of pubic appearances today,” Sokka informed him, and Zuko hummed, allowing himself to fall back into Sokka’s embrace. “And if anyone complains about your hair, they may have a run in with my boomerang.”

“Thank you.”

Zuko opened his eyes, allowing his face to fall into its natural frown, but prayed to Agni that Sokka could see the appreciation and adoration in his eyes.

He slowly rose, pushing himself off of his bed and turning so he could see his reflection in the mirror.

His hair it… it wasn’t bad. But it still made his muscles clench and his breath hitch. There were some strands tumbling out of his top knot, falling out of rhythm with the rest of his demeanor.

It was so insignificant, but that’s what Zuko thought when he was younger.

(There was nothing insignificant when it came to Ozai.)

He felt more than saw Sokka stand beside him, and together they gazed in the mirror.

Despite knowing he was being self-conscious, Zuko found himself biting his lip in anticipation as Sokka looked at him. He knew Sokka didn’t think he was disfigured or that his hair was an awful mess, but that wasn’t enough prevent his heart from racing and his fists at the ready to raise to block his—

“You’re beautiful,” Sokka breathed, his eyes so wide that Zuko thought they could contain the depths of the entire ocean, encompass the entirety of the night sky. What made his face flush was that the stars in Sokka’s eyes were directed on him—focused solely and only on him.

“Oh.”

It pained him that that was all he could say. Sokka could compliment him like it was nothing, but Zuko couldn’t do any more than reply with one word.

Sokka frowned and no, that wouldn’t do. Zuko didn’t like when he frowned—more so, he hated being the reason his boyfriend’s smile vanished.

“Are you still…” He cut himself off, his neck jerking and lips pursing, then he waved his hands around for emphasis, as a way to finish the sentence.

Shamefully, Zuko nodded.

Without warning, Sokka grabbed hold of Zuko’s hands and placed them on the top of his head. He intertwined their fingers, almost as if they were holding hands, then started moving them.

For a moment, Zuko held his breath because what was this idiot doing? His hair was the definition of perfection—no strands were loose, he looked regal, the blue and red beads in his hair were perfectly placed… and here Sokka was, guiding Zuko’s hands around his head and messing it up.

Zuko tried to pull away—tried to free his hands from Sokka’s grasp because they couldn’t do this—they couldn’t mess up is hair! The Fire Nation was already terribly critical towards Sokka, being Water Tribe and all, not to mention being the Fire Lord’s boyfriend meant more publicity than either of them were comfortable with… the public would tear Sokka apart if he walked out with messy hair.

“What are you doing?” Zuko hissed through grit teeth, still trying to yank his hands away to no avail. “You’re messing up your hair—I’m messing up your hair!”

Sokka ignored him, but Zuko couldn’t find it in himself to glower at his idiot because his tongue was sticking out of his mouth the way it did when he was concentrating and it was so authentically Sokka and so adorable and—

“There,” Sokka said, interrupting his thoughts. “Now we match!”

It was then that Zuko realized his hands had been released, and he clutched them close to his chest defensively.

Sokka was cheekily grinning at him, his eyes shining, and his hair… oh. His hair was a travesty. His wolf tail became undone and half of it was falling out. The top of his head looked like someone build hundreds of tiny bridges with the way his hair had been tugged at.

As terrible as it was, Zuko was basking in the absolute adorableness of his boyfriend.

“It may not be perfect,” Sokka started, locking hands with Zuko once more, “but we’re doing it together. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Penguin.”

Sokka leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Okay, then: should I wear the cobalt or lapis tunic? I feel like lapis is a more luscious color, but cobalt brings out my eyes…”

Most of what Sokka was saying made absolute no sense to him, but Zuko knew Sokka so he knew that his feeling weren’t being brushed aside. Sokka was just trying to distract him—to make him laugh.

So, Zuko sat back down and listened to Sokka ramble about the pros and cons of each color, even though they had to be at the event in half an hour.

Sokka was right (he always was)—it was never about his hair (maybe it was a little about his hair, whenever Ozai was involved, it was about everything). He spent the majority of his life trying to live up to the standards of everyone else—his hair had to be perfect, his back had to be perfectly straight…

The Fire Nation thrived on the idea of perfection. So much so that Zuko knew if Sokka had been born and raised here, he would have been isolated or forced into muteness due to his imperfections, or his tics. It was a terrible thought that was proved true by the looks he saw shot his boyfriend’s way by some elders—from the way that some people would address Zuko rather than Sokka when they were together or ask Zuko why he hadn’t fixed Sokka or what places he took Sokka to to do so.

But they weren’t imperfections, Sokka’s tics. Zuko reminded him countless times that they were just a part of who he was, something that made him as special as he was. And he supposed that’s what Sokka was trying to show him… though through his unorthodox and irritatingly charming methods.

Zuko never did fix his hair for the evening—he wanted to continue matching with Sokka.

[this can be seen as a mini prequel to threshold of eternity hence why zuko gives azula the advice about how to 'handle' her hair and toe kind of inspired this one hehe]

'101 ways to say i love you' prompts