The corridors were sparsely lit, with only every third torch casting shadows that danced across the floor and ceiling and red and black drapery that decorated the walls. It was late at night.

As he wandered from dark hallway to dark hallway, occasionally doubling back to revisit a courtyard or a warm room, Aang thought of his past and future. There were always regrets. There was always grief, and hope, and the knowledge that he had atoned for all he was able to. He thought about who he missed. Memories of Katara, and the girl’s untimely death at the age of sixteen during the war, flowed through his mind. She had always wanted to fight for her people. She had always been strong. But in the end, the enemy had been stronger.
Aang bumped into someone as he turned a corner, and had to leap backwards quickly to avoid being blasted by a violent yellow flame.
‘Who’s there?’ A familiar voice growled. Aang darted into the light cast by a nearby torch, and raised his hands in a peaceful gesture. ‘It’s me! Just me.’
Zuko lowered his arms, and sighed. ‘Don’t creep up on me like that. I could have killed you.’

‘As if,’ Aang chirped. ‘I’ve always been faster than you.’ He said it with a smile, and the scarred royal couldn’t glare forever. ‘What are you doing sneaking around my castle at this hour?’ Zuko asked, beckoning for the Avatar to walk with him as he meandered down a corridor. Aang shrugged, and followed him. ‘I couldn’t sleep.’

‘Is that the only reason?’ Zuko asked, after a short pause. Aang wondered at how his friend had become so empathic through the years. He used to drown in his own often turbulent emotions, but now it was almost though he had drained himself, and was making up for the apathy by absorbing other people’s feelings.

‘I was thinking about Katara. And the war,’ Aang confessed quietly. Zuko looked at his feet as they walked. He looked deep in thought himself. ‘What about you?’ Aang asked, as they wandered up a wide flight of steps. ‘Why are you awake and wandering around in the middle of the night? You’re not even in pyjamas.’

Zuko stopped and looked from side to side. ‘I was thinking too.’

Aang was slightly disappointed that Zuko wouldn’t tell him what he was thinking about. Instead, the young man kept searching the dark, large room with his golden eyes, as though looking for someone. In the end, he slumped against a wall and slid to the floor.

‘Who are you waiting for?’ Aang asked, sitting next to him. Zuko just looked away again, and Aang could swear he saw the beginnings of an embarrassed blush rise in his cheeks. ‘Oooh, is it a girl?’ he asked. Inwardly he felt a slight pang, although he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was, and that made him only more determined to hide it from Zuko, using cheekiness and general childishness.

‘Actually no,’ Zuko replied. ‘I come here every few nights, but I’m not waiting for anyone.’

‘Why do you come here then?’ Aang asked. ‘Is it a good meditating spot?’

‘Not really. Not for me,’ came the reply. Aang got up and started to wander around. The room was long, tall, and overall large. Along the middle there ran a semi-narrow platform between several rows of seats, and on each wall he could just make out the shapes of several banners, each bearing the red and dark brown fire nation symbol.

‘Would you like to see it more clearly?’ Zuko asked. Aang turned around and nodded. Zuko got up, and in a series of kicks and punches sent arrows of flame to every wooden torch in the room, lighting the arena so suddenly and brightly that Aang had to cover his eyes and let them adjust slightly before looking out at the now well-lit room. He could guess where this was, and its significance.

‘Is this where ...’ he started. Zuko nodded. Aang quietly observed the scar on his face as though there was nothing there but it, that reddish, disfiguring blaze that made one eye seem a slit, like the eye of a snake, or a lizard. Zuko noticed Aang staring, and turned the other way. Aang looked down. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘For what? You didn’t do anything wrong,’ Zuko said, starting to walk down the middle of the platform. He reached a point just beyond the middle, and sat down again. Touching the stone, he started to speak, and in the silence of the large room, Aang heard each word clearly.

‘This is exactly where it happened. This is where I got on my hands and knees, and begged for forgiveness. Forgiveness for trying to do what I thought was right. I wonder if it was because I was being vulnerable? Father always rewarded ruthlessness. He rewarded my sister, the most ruthless and cruel person I know. Perhaps that was what he thought honour was. You know, I still don’t think I have my honour back. Not really.’

‘It wasn’t honour you wanted, was it though,’ Aang murmured, walking up behind Zuko. He sat behind him, placing his hands first on his own ankles, then on Zuko’s shoulders. He saw Zuko shake his head. ‘I was so afraid of being vulnerable again, of being soft, that I couldn’t bear to think that all I really wanted was for my father to love me.’

Aang was amazed at the intimacy Zuko was granting him. In public, he bore all the nobility, maturity and strength of an old king, but in private, as the two of them sat in this tender, unabashed silence, in this overbearing room, he possessed such a gentle humanity that Aang could only just stop himself from wrapping his arms around the Fire Lord and giving him a long, tearful hug.

‘I thought that maybe I’d forget it all over time,’ Zuko continued. ‘But I still don’t feel like I have my honour back. Not his honour. Don’t try and tell me that I had my honour all along, like that day on the final frontier,’ Zuko said quickly, cutting off Aang before he was able to start. ‘He was my father. And I wanted him to be proud of me. But he wasn’t ... he never ...’

Zuko’s impassioned speech broke off at the end with his now trembling voice. Aang floated over his head and landed in front of him, drawing him into his arms. Zuko’s larger frame shook ashamedly in Aang’s smaller embrace. They stayed for what felt like hours.

After a long while, Zuko got up and quietly went back to the stairs. He put out the fires on the way. Aang followed, and they walked in comfortable, yet atmospheric, silence. They reached a hallway down which Aang knew he was to leave the fire lord, if he intended to return to his own room. If? No, of course he was returning to his own room. What would he be doing in Zuko’s room for the night? Comfort him by playing teddy? He was surprised at his own glee at the thought, and shut his imagination down forcibly, turning to face the direction in which he knew his room lay. He felt a warmth on his hand, and pivoted to see those two, shining yellow eyes gaze at him through the soft, sparse light. He felt hot all of a sudden.

‘Good night,’ Zuko said. There was something in his voice that Aang couldn’t lay his finger on, but didn’t care too much about just as long as their hands did not separate. ‘And thank you.’

Zuko let go of his hand and drifted down the other corridor. Aang sighed, and turned again to face where he was now only pretty sure his room was. He started down the corridor and followed his intuition.And his intuition wanted to be somewhere else.
Two hours later he found himself in front of the overly large double-doors that opened to Zuko’s bedroom. Aang knocked on them gingerly, having resolved that even though waking up Zuko at what was likely three or so in the morning was a very, very, very, very, very bad idea, there was no-one else to ask, except Iroh, but he didn’t have a clue what room the general slept in, so that left only one option. The option itself was not pleased to be woken up at three in the morning, just as Aang had suspected, and was in fact looking as though he had had a war with the duvet in an effort to get out of bed.‘I told you, not in a million ... oh, it’s you,’ Zuko said, calming down mid-rant. Aang bowed. ‘I’m sorry! I just ... I can’t find my room,’ he admitted. Zuko smacked himself in the face, and sighed. Aang tried his hardest to look apologetic, but Zuko did look a little funny when he was exhausted.

‘Who were you expecting?’ Aang asked. Zuko rolled his eyes and leaned against the doorway. ‘One of my lieutenants, Fitzume ... she seems to think that offering to “accompany” me every night is going to help her climb the ranks. I’m deliberately keeping her away from higher status but she can’t take a hint.’

Aang grinned. ‘And Sokka thought you wouldn’t be able to find yourself a girl.’

Zuko looked at his feet again, then growled and wandered back into his room, tossing over his shoulder his shirt, and an offer that affected Aang far more than he could have imagined.

‘I can’t be bothered helping you find your room. Sleep in here tonight.’

Aang stood stunned in a doorway for a while, then tentatively scuttled into the room, just in case he had heard wrong.‘And remember to close the door,’ Zuko said, jumping back into his bed, which was huge. He patted the sheets next to himself, then shuffled over, leaving Aang at least three meters of bedding to sprawl out in.

‘My bed isn’t nearly this big!’ Aang declared, throwing himself onto the roomy canopy four-poster. Zuko reached his arm over, and with a carefully executed flick of his wrist, put out three of the lights.

‘Do you want a night-light?’ he asked, gesturing to the final torch. ‘Do you?’ Aang replied, snuggling into the thick sheets. Zuko flicked it out, and complete darkness enveloped them.

Aang heard him slide down into the sheets, and heard him breathing. Now that he was settled, his original thoughts began once again to penetrate his mind. This was Zuko’s bed. He was in bed, with Zuko. Zuko was lying a meter and a bit away from him. No, no, calm down, he slept in this kind of proximity to Sokka and Katara when they were travelling. Of course, that was for warmth, and they were in separate sleeping bags, and they weren’t shirtless, or Zuko. Or tortured, scarred and pleasantly huggable. Aang discreetly wriggled slightly closer to Zuko, trying to pretend he was asleep. Maybe, if Zuko still felt sad, he wouldn’t mind a bit of a cuddle. Stop that, he scolded himself. You’re fifteen now, not five. And you’re not a teddy. And he’s Zuko, for crying out loud. Zuko and snuggling go together like Appa and a prickle snake.

Or so his scrambled thoughts went on, until what felt like an hour later, Zuko whispered, ‘Aang ... are you awake?’

Aang stayed still and silent, curious. Zuko reached over and shook him gently, experimentally, and, getting no reply, moved in a bit closer. Aang felt his breath on the back of his neck, and suppressed a shiver. He felt Zuko’s body closer than he could have dreamed. No way, he thought, as one powerful arm slipped around his waist, and stayed there. It seemed Zuko was into snuggling after all. His body was warmer, too, and larger. He could hear his breathing much more clearly, and feel their legs touching from the thighs down. He also felt something he didn’t think he had ever experienced before in his life. He felt desire.

Zuko’s steady breath hitched as Aang moved slightly. The smaller boy seemed only to be moving in his sleep, so he didn’t react. But he stiffened slightly. Aang had rolled over, and huddled into Zuko’s chest.

Aang smiled slightly to himself. Zuko was a perfect source of heat, after all, and their bodies fitted together like two pieces in a jigsaw puzzle. They lay in silent comfort, breathing together, feeling each other’s heartbeats.

And then Zuko sneezed.

Aang froze, and Zuko felt it. He scooted backwards at an alarming rate, and Aang, who had forgotten how near he was to the edge of the bed, scooted backwards as well, only just avoiding an unscheduled meeting with the floor by quick air-bending reflexes. He grabbed the edge of the bed and flew back on, sitting upright and trying to calm his quickened heartbeat. Neither spoke for a while. Aang turned slightly to face the direction in the dark he was sure Zuko lay, and heard breathing and the rearranging of sheets.

‘Did you ... I mean ...’ came a stammering voice. Aang shook his head, and remembering that he couldn’t be seen, said ‘I had a nightmare. I’m sorry I startled you.’

They seemed to reach a silent agreement that even though both knew the truth, neither was to speak it. Aang slipped back under the covers, now feeling very disappointed, and heard Zuko roll over. He still couldn’t sleep. He had nothing to do but think. What reason was there for him to hope? And why did he hope? He knew for sure he wanted something extremely important from Zuko, but he wasn’t brave enough to admit to himself what it was. He also knew that Zuko felt some emotional, or at least physical, need to get close to him, but that was as far as he was willing to believe. Halfway through his depressing internal monologue, however, he felt a disturbance in the blankets and felt Zuko’s eyes seek him in the blackness.

‘What do you think of me?’ was the question. Aang was surprised. He didn’t know what to say. ‘Aang?’

‘Yes, I’m awake.’ Aang rolled onto his back. ‘I don’t know what you mean. I suppose ... I think of you ... like a ...’ he was utterly lost for words. ‘What do you mean? Like, what do you think of me?’

‘I think I could only tell you if I knew for sure where I stand,’ Zuko said cautiously. ‘Don’t you trust me?’ Aang asked. ‘Sort of. I trust you personally, but ... I don’t know what you think.’

Aang felt sure that, were he to be honest, he would have to be totally honest. He held his breath for a while, then mustered up all the courage he could reach. ‘I wasn’t asleep.’

‘Neither was I,’ Zuko whispered. Aang felt a weight leave his chest, but only so a heavier one could lay there. Now what to say?
‘I ... don’t want to cause you any more pain that what you’ve already suffered,’ Zuko confessed. Aang felt a surge of sympathy and affection for the tone of Zuko’s voice, as it emerged through the fog of black quiet that surrounded them both. ‘That’s okay. You won’t.’

‘You don’t know that.’

‘I think I know enough to know that you’re a nice guy. A little misled sometimes, but nice.’

‘I’m not nice,’ Zuko retorted. ‘You’re naughty then?’ Aang joked. Zuko threw a pillow in his general direction. ‘I’m trying to be serious.’ Aang listened to him, resting himself on his extra pillow. He was pleased to note that it smelled distinctly like Zuko.

‘I just want to know how you feel,’ Zuko said softly. Aang shifted uncomfortably. ‘That’s not the easiest thing to explain,’ Aang said. ‘Just try then,’ Zuko pleaded. Aang rolled onto his belly and buried his face in the pillow that smelled the nicest. ‘I ... sfft v lff few.’

‘Could you repeat that? Your words are too muffled, I can’t hear you.’

Aang removed his face from the pillow. ‘I can’t say it so easily. You go first.’

‘No. You have to go first.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’m Fire Lord.’

‘Yeah, well I’m Avatar.’

‘I’m older.’

‘Nuh-uh, I’m older.’

‘Okay, you are older. But I’m smarter.’

‘And I’m wiser.’

‘Okay wise guy, if you’re so wise, you should be able to tell me how you feel.’

‘Well maybe I don’t feel like it. If you’re so smart, you figure out how I feel.’

‘That’s not fair,’ Zuko said lamely. They lay in silence for a while, each too stubborn to confess, and both too unsure of each other’s feelings to brave the first step toward what they both wanted.

‘You’re ... precious to me,’ Zuko finally said. Aang could scarcely believe what he had just heard.

‘I’m what?’

‘Don’t make me say it again,’ Zuko grumbled. ‘Now you go. I asked first, so you have to.’

Aang lay for a moment, feeling all of a sudden far more special than he ever had, even after all the people who had idolized him as the Avatar.

‘I think ... you’re like fire,’ he said mysteriously. ‘I can only live if I’m destroying something?’ Zuko murmured interpretively. Aang groaned. ‘That’s not what I mean. I mean, that you’re only really destructive if treated badly, or abused. Just like any other human. But ... you’re like fire because ... well, I can’t think of anything else that gives me so much light and warmth,’ he said. Even to him it sounded highly romanticised, but it also felt true. And if Zuko was willing to admit that Aang was “precious” to him, then he most definitely deserved to be told how his precious Aang felt too.

Aang once again felt Zuko's arm wrap around him, and he was relieved. He felt himself gingerly pulled close, as Zuko waited for some sign of permission. Aang reciprocated the embrace, putting his face in the gap between Zuko's neck and the pillow, and wriggling both feet between Zuko's. They rearranged themselves a little more to accommodate and to reach the maximum level of comfort, and ended up with Aang curled into Zuko's body completely, and Zuko's lips pressed against the top of his short-haired head. Both felt relief.

‘I ... Aang, are you asleep?’ Zuko asked. Aang, despite his instinct to be totally honest, stayed silent out of curiosity.
‘Aang ... I love you,’ Zuko whispered. Aang flushed with an emotion words could never, in a million years, describe. He cuddled up tightly into the curve of Zuko’s body and fought against an insane urge to meow. Zuko clearly knew he was awake. He kissed the top of Aang’s head and stroked his back.

'I love you too.'