Ginger and Echinacea (A:TLA College AU, Zuko, M)

[Sawyer]

Hi, sorry, so sorry. I know I've got a few other things I'm chipping away at for the stories board, but I was struck by something and really wanted to write this one, too! I talked for a while with @Quing Nerd about this AU (thank you thank you!) and, well, here we are!! Part two is coming soon. Let me know what you think!

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Part 1

History 304 with Professor Evans was a blow-off class. The lectures were dry, the papers were an easy pass as long as you did them at all, and at least one half of every other class was spent watching part of some documentary that Sokka suspected was ripped from a VHS recording that the professor had taped from PBS himself at least two decades ago. But despite Dr. Evans’ lenient syllabus, attendance was mandatory and counted for 15% of everyone’s final grade, which kept Sokka coming back on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, at least for now.

 

Still, he wouldn’t have been surprised if Zuko showed up to class even if Dr. Evans decided to drop his attendance requirement and only show 20-minute Ted Talks during class time. Zuko was an unnecessarily dedicated student – Sokka suspected that when he transferred earlier this semester, it was from an Ivy League school out east, or something – and he never, ever missed class.

 

“You should not be in class today,” Sokka told him one mid-November morning, a pleading suggestion to get him to make an exception to his rule. “You sound terrible.”

 

“Good thing this isn’t a public speaking class, then,” Zuko responded in the most gravely, broken up voice Sokka had ever heard. Zuko’s throat sounded raw, and his consonants were distorted by congestion, the bags under his eyes serving as a visual representation of the swelling in his sinuses.

 

Sokka rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant. Seriously. How long have you been sick?”

 

“I’m fine,” Zuko replied, but he didn’t answer.

 

“You didn’t answer,” Sokka said.

 

“I don’t know.” Zuko seemed agitated, pulling his notebook out of his backpack with more force than usual. He turned away to cough into the cuff of his jacket. “A day, maybe. I’m fine.”

 

“Are you okay?” Sokka asked, almost reflexively, in response to the cough, which already sounded heavy and crackling. It was a little concerning; Zuko had seemed fine when Sokka saw him in the same class just a couple of days ago.

 

“I just told you, I’m—”

 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re fine, I get it. You know something? For a guy who reads so many plays, you’re a terrible actor.”

 

“I don’t read that many – Whatever.” Zuko nodded toward the clock and coughed again. “Just leave it. Class is about to start.”

 

Right, like that had ever meant anything to either of them. But Sokka did indeed leave it, allowing Dr. Evans and his unenthusiastic lesson on the impact of religious innovation on medieval revivalists to take the floor. Sokka wasn’t very big into religion – spirituality was more Aang and Katara’s thing – and couldn’t bring himself to focus on the lecture long enough to copy down even a sentence of what the professor was saying. He started scribbling nonsense in his notebook, regardless, for the sake of looking busy.

 

Next to him, Zuko’s head was rhythmically moving up and down as he read off of the PowerPoint and wrote down the bullet point notes provided on the screen. Sokka noticed he was squinting a little, even through his good eye, and wondered if he should suggest that they sit closer to the front next time.

 

“Hp’NTSch!” Well, he should have expected that. Poor Zuko. Really. Sokka, along with a few people in the surrounding desks, murmured blessings in his direction. Sokka always interpreted that as his classmates saying they didn’t mind the disruption, but he knew that Zuko hated being disruptive, period. Especially in a way that drew attention to a condition he didn’t want to acknowledge in the first place, even to his friend.

 

“Uht’nnCHSST!” And repeat. It wasn’t uncommon for them to come in pairs, spaced only a moment apart.

 

Sokka had only heard Zuko sneeze a handful of times before, despite knowing him for several months already. They were always restrained and squashed down like that, which was a little ironic, Sokka thought, since holding a sneeze back like that always made it seem stronger and more… dramatic, while just letting it happen usually let it fly under the radar. Sokka wondered what Zuko’s normal sneeze sounded like, or if he even let himself sneeze fully when he was alone.

 

Zuko started sniffling not long after, in short, unsatisfying bursts. Sokka wanted to offer him a tissue or something, but he didn’t come prepared. He hadn’t even known Zuko was sick until today. But the sniffling wasn’t an unwelcome distraction, he decided; he’d rather think about Zuko’s cold than Dr. Evans’s lecture.

 

When the professor finally went to put the movie on, Sokka realized he still had his takeout sandwich bag from lunch, so he reached down and pulled out the napkin that the restaurant always provided and he never used.

 

“Hh… huhNTSSchue!”

 

Perfect timing, Sokka thought to himself. He wrote Bless you on the open page in his notebook, set the napkin on top, and slowly slid it over to Zuko until it poked him in the elbow.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Sokka saw Zuko staring at the offering for a moment until he grabbed the napkin and whispered, “Thanks.” He tented it around his nose, squeezed and pulled down before he sneezed again. “Ht’nTSChue!”

 

Sokka took back his notebook, underlined Bless you and added an exclamation mark, and then slid it back.

 

When Zuko read it, he cleared his throat as if he were about to speak, and then wrote something in the margin.

 

You don’t have to keep doing that, it read. Zuko’s handwriting was much more elegant than Sokka’s blocky scrawl, the words so perfectly aligned that it made Sokka wonder if Zuko had once been forced to take calligraphy classes.

 

The introductory documentary logo played, always louder than the rest of the production, and Zuko coughed hard over the sound coming from the classroom speakers.

 

Have you been holding that in this whole time? Sokka wrote.

 

Zuko read it, looked at Sokka, and shrugged before coughing again, more softly this time, and writing down his reply. Pay attention to the film.

 

I can’t, Sokka wrote back instantly, somebody is distracting me.

 

Zuko seemed embarrassed at that, and wrote a quick sorry underneath it.

 

I don’t mind, Sokka assured him. He didn’t let go of the notebook this time, and once he saw that Zuko had read his message, he took it back and drew a hangman diagram. You first. Guess a letter.

 

Zuko eyed him warily, but he gave in and began to play when he realized that their professor had already shown this documentary on the second day of class. (Did he think they’d forget? Maybe the attendance policy was his way of insisting that he hadn’t completely given up on his classes – he still had to implement at least one rule.) The game went on nearly for the remainder of the class, until Sokka’s mystery word was revealed, which made Zuko laugh, which conveniently turned into a cough that kept Dr. Evans from getting suspicious.

 

“For a smart guy, you’re a pretty bad guesser,” Sokka told him once the lights turned back on and class was dismissed.

 

Zuko cleared his throat. “What’s with all the backhanded compliments today?”

 

Sokka held up his palms defensively. “I’m just sayin’.”

 

Zuko had already packed up his things and was coughing into his forearm as he stood up and pushed in his chair. He was always weirdly quick getting from place to place, stealthily and efficiently making it look like he’d never been there at all – like he was raised in a home where people weren’t allowed to spill.

 

“Hang on a sec, I’ll walk out with you,” Sokka said, and finished gathering himself so he could follow Zuko out the door. “Please tell me you’re going home after this.”

 

“Can’t,” Zuko answered. “I’m working tonight. Uncle wants me to close up the shop.”

 

“Uh-uh.” Sokka shook his head. “No way, dude. I’ve met your uncle. He won’t stand to have you working while you’re sick! …Does he know you’re sick?”

 

“It’s just a cold,” Zuko insisted, and maybe it was, but he sounded bad, like he could use a day of rest. “But he was out last night and had errands before I woke up this morning, so—”

 

“Here, let’s call him,” Sokka interrupted.

 

“What? No, I don’t need to call him,” protested Zuko. “I’m going to see him in fifteen minutes.” But Sokka had already started patting Zuko’s pockets in search of his phone. “Okay! Jeez. Okay. Stop that. I’m serious. Stop! I’ll call him.”

 

Satisfied, Sokka stood close to Zuko so he could hear his uncle through the receiver. Zuko took out his phone and dialed, and it only rang once before a cheerful “Hello?” sounded through the tiny speakers.

 

“Uncle? It’s me.”

 

“Zuko? You don’t sound well! You didn’t take the tablets I left out for you this morning?”

 

“I didn’t…” Zuko’s voice faded, and he blushed and cleared his throat. “I didn’t see anything this morning.”

 

“Yes, on the countertop next to the bathroom sink,” Zuko’s uncle informed him. “Ginger and Echinacea, for your throat. I heard you coughing all night; I’m surprised you got any sleep at all! Did you go to class today, Nephew?”

 

“Yes, of course,” Zuko answered immediately.

 

“Then you did not read my note, either!” His uncle scolded enthusiastically. “You really need to become more aware of your surroundings. You should have stayed in bed all day, Zuko. Do not come to work.”

 

“Uncle, that’s ridiculous. I’m needed at the shop…”

 

“We do not need your germs here! Please, Nephew, go home and rest. It is for your own good. No library, no homework; just relax for a while. Can you do that?”

 

Zuko sighed. He looked restless just at the thought of resting, but he didn’t argue. “Yes, Uncle. Thank you.”

 

“I will be in touch!” Iroh promised. “Have a good evening, Zuko.”

 

The phone beeped three times, signaling that the call had successfully disconnected.

 

“See? What did I tell you?” Sokka boasted.

 

“You’re awfully thrilled that my uncle thinks I’m too sick to be useful,” Zuko remarked. “Actually, my father always said that he just liked making excuses to relax. He could just be trying to project that on to me.”

 

Zuko didn’t talk about his family often. All Sokka knew was that he lived with his uncle above his tea shop near Chinatown, and his mother wasn’t in the picture. Although Zuko said very little, Sokka still got the impression that Zuko’s dad was less than a stand-up guy, whoever he was.

 

“No,” Sokka corrected. “You’re sick and he cares about you. That’s all. Don’t read into it like that.” He paused for a moment, considering something. “Hey! Why don’t you come over?”

 

“What?” Zuko asked. “You really want me to socialize when I’m…”

 

“No, no, that’s exactly it!” Sokka clarified. “Katara’s pre-med. She’ll know exactly what to do to help you get better!” When Zuko shook his head, Sokka insisted further. “Come on, just for like, an hour. I promise I’ll stop bugging you after that. It’ll help me feel better.”

 

The last bit of Sokka’s argument seemed to sway Zuko just enough, and Sokka took the resigned look on his face as permission to loop an arm around him and lead the way toward his home.

 

[•.*°•☆. Q .☆•°*.•]

[SCREEAAAAAAAAAAAMS] I FUCKING LOVE THIS I UCKTING SDJKDGD THANK YOU FOR INCLUDING ME IN THIS ???? THIS IS BEAUTIFUL AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH OH MY GOD THEY ARE BOTH REALLY PRESH THANK YOU FOR WRiting this i'm gonna stop capsing now i am so freaking happy with this fic i am so very very excited for part two oh m y g o d