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#when i first read the prompt i thought about how i've already written zukka 'can i kiss you
headaching · 2 years
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[ID: A screenshot of a tumblr direct message from @hal-your-pal that says: "Can I kiss you?" + Zukka (smiling emoji)" End ID]
On his bed, surrounded by a sea of tissues and several warm blankets, Sokka slips in and out of consciousness.
He should be sweating and kicking the covers off, but he's shivering, unable to draw the blankets close enough. A comforting weight beneath his neck reminds him that he's using Zuko's lap as a pillow.
Sokka groans and rubs his eyes with his palms, knowing it won't alleviate the pressure elevating in his head. Sokka's shaking arms disappear beneath the blankets again as he finally opens his eyes.
He wonders how long Zuko's been watching him with his unmoving hand over Sokka's heart, monitoring his heartbeat, keeping close watch.
Though his face hurts, Sokka smiles at him weakly. "Hey, you," he murmurs, voice husky and worn.
"Hi," Zuko whispers, and slides his hand from Sokka's chest to his jaw. Careful fingertips feather along his jawbone, and Sokka's shivering harder. "Still feeling bad?" Zuko asks, though Sokka knows he's aware of the answer.
Sokka nods miserably. Zuko leans forward press a slow kiss into Sokka's forehead, then touches it with his own for a moment. When he sits up, he sadly confirms, "You're still burning up."
Sokka manages a half-smile and hoarsely whispers, "Feel like shit," in affirmation.
Zuko shakes his head and covers Sokka's cheek with his palm. "My poor baby," he anguishes. Zuko's voice is so tender, it has Sokka's heart beating too quickly, so he averts his gaze by turning his head to the side and resting his cheek against Zuko's thigh.
Sokka winces at the position change— maybe looking sideways isn't such a good idea. After a few heavy blinks, he turns his head back to Zuko, but keeps his eyes turned downward.
"Hey," Zuko whispers, guiding Sokka's gaze up. "Can I kiss you?" he asks with a quiet sort of wonder, as if Sokka granting his request will repair every wrong in the world.
Sokka shakes his head, inciting another wave of nasuea. "I'm sick," he croaks in protest, but Zuko's expression doesn't change.
"I know," he says immediately. Then, hardly above a whisper, "Can I kiss you anyway?"
Sokka’s attempt to disguise his smile is poor. "You're stupid, you know that?" Sokka asks, and when Zuko laughs, he maintains, “Seriously. Only a complete idiot would kiss someone knowing it’ll probably make them sick.”
Zuko shakes his head and smirks mercilessly. “Then I guess I’m a complete idiot,” he shrugs. His thumb glides along Sokka’s forehead to his cheekbone, then across the bump of his nose. It lands on Sokka’s chin and stays there.
Even though he’s sick, Sokka manages to bolster a flirtatious look. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” Sokka teases, earning an eye roll.
Ignoring him, Zuko asks, "So, can I?" while prodding Sokka's lower lip. "Can I kiss you?" he asks, then repeats, “Can I?” several more times, reminding Sokka of a petulant child.
After shooing Zuko's incessant finger away, Sokka grumbles, "Why are you even asking?" He shuts his eyes and puts on a satirically withered voice, "I'm too deathly ill to stop you."
“Hey,” Zuko says, suddenly stern. Sokka peeks his eyes open and to Zuko’s serious expression. “I’d never kiss you if you didn’t want me to.”
Sokka heaves a fond sigh. He insists, “I always want you—” but it’s cut short by a hacking cough.
In order to breathe easier, Sokka begrudgingly sits up from Zuko’s lap to cough into his arm. Zuko pats his back a couple times as Sokka fights through the worst of it, and when his breathing finally levels into ragged wheezes, Zuko’s arms circle his shoulders.
Zuko pouts at him, then nuzzles his forehead against Sokka’s cheek. “I’m sorry, sunshine,” he whispers, nearly sending Sokka into another coughing fit. Sokka leans into the touch and reaches around to ruffle his fingers through a mass of messy hair.
“Don’t be,” Sokka rasps, then giggles at the unexpected sensation of Zuko’s lips on his neck. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks as Zuko trails kisses all the way to the corner of his jaw.
“I just think,” Zuko whispers near Sokka’s ear, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise, “if we’ve already been breathing in the same air, I’m bound to catch it anyway.”
As Sokka breathes a gentle laugh, his fingers travel the short distance from Zuko’s hair to his cheek to cradle it tenderly in his palm. Zuko asks, “What’s the harm in a little kiss?” intentionally brushing his lips against Sokka’s ear as he does.
When Sokka turns to properly face Zuko, his arms fall to Sokka’s waist. “Maybe you’re not that stupid,” he observes.
Zuko seems like he's about to say something, but stops himself and puts on a pout instead. "Are you telling me you wouldn't kiss me if I was sick?" he asks, feigning disappointment.
Sokka's answer of, "No," is instant and honest. "But I already know I'm an idiot," he adds.
Before Zuko can do more than scoff, Sokka kisses him.
Zuko's holding his head firmly in place, and Sokka keeps his eyes open partially to ward off any further dizziness, but mostly to watch the protective, concentrated look on Zuko's face. The kiss is short-lived, then Sokka's hugging his ribcage with his hot face buried in his neck.
Zuko relaxes them both onto the pillows, and though Sokka's body half on top of him and the excessive amount of blankets is probably uncomfortable, Zuko doesn't say a word. He just releases Sokka's hair from its hold to brush through the locks still damp from a last effort bath he took hours before.
Sokka's eyes drift closed when Zuko's fingers begin pressing lightly into his scalp. They're silent for so long, it almost startles him when Zuko proclaims, "You're not an idiot, you know," in a sudden, annoyed tone, like he just remembered Sokka said that.
Sokka's nose scrunches up and he's breathing a laugh into Zuko's neck. "For you I am," he replies, and uses all his strength to tighten his grip around Zuko.
Zuko takes his lead and releases Sokka's hair to draw him closer around his shoulders. Sokka isn't sure which of them tangles their legs together first, but everything feels right, somehow (though he could do without the incapacitating illness).
"Go to sleep," Zuko murmurs at some point when Sokka is still awake. Sokka mumbles an agreement. "I love you, stupid," he whispers, and it drags a final, groggy laugh from Sokka.
Without opening his eyes, Sokka plants a grateful kiss on Zuko's jaw, then resumes his resting place once more. "Love you, too, baby," he says, punctuated by a yawn.
As sleep inches over him, Sokka listens to Zuko's even breathing contrasting his own shallow, whistling breaths. For a moment, Sokka no longer feels pain, only Zuko, shrouded around him like honeyed sunlight.
Sokka wonders if maybe he'll feel better when he wakes. His final coherent thought before falling into a fever dream is a vow: If Zuko does get sick, I'll be the dumbass right by his side, ready to do it all over again.
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