Work Text:
It had been fifteen minutes since Toph noticed that Sokka left the bed that they had been sharing for the past few weeks. And it had also been fifteen minutes since she began hearing dishes clinging and clanging against the floor and the sounds of whispered curse words from where he was in the kitchen. Toph chuckled to herself at the sounds she was hearing because she knew that Sokka wasn’t what one would consider a prodigy in the kitchen. In fact, the first and last time he made her food, all she could focus on was how chewy the arctic hen was. Not to mention that the kale cookies he made her for dessert were rock hard – she was sure that if she concentrated enough, she could have earthbent them.
Before even considering the thought of getting up from her insanely comfortable position to check on her boyfriend, she turned onto her stomach and groaned into her pillow. Toph’s limbs had been hurting because she was overtraining at the pro-bending arena. It was a week full of matches and she was exhausted, but she wasn’t a quitter either. Regardless, any moment she could get without standing was a blessing and she couldn’t not stand if her boyfriend wasn’t in bed with her. Though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, she had grown accustomed to having him around her and holding her as they slept. So much so that she woke up anytime he left the bed. This caused her to quietly blame him for her losing precious slumber.
Begrudgingly, she swung her legs off of the bed and got up, her feet finding comfort in the stone floor. Toph could still hear Sokka noisily moving dishes in the kitchen and she was curious as to what he was doing awake. She was unable to feel the sun as she walked by the window in her room, and it still felt a bit cold, so she assumed it was still too early to be awake. When she finally made it to the kitchen, though, she felt his heart rate racing as he mumbled to himself.
“Hey, Snoozles,” Toph said softly from the doorway. “Why don’t you come back to bed and actually do some snoozing to live up to your nickname?”
Sokka jumped in surprise and looked at her from the counter he was positioned at, a mixing bowl in his hands and – though Toph was unable to see – flour all over his face, “Don’t sneak up on me like that, Toph!”
She chuckled, walking closer to him, ignoring the burning running up and down her thighs, “Would you come back to bed?”
“I’m not tired,” he mumbled, continuing his mixing. He was going to get that kale cookies recipe right if it was the last thing he did.
“You’re lying,” Toph said, any and all joking tones having dropped from her tone as she knitted her eyebrows together in suspicion. “What’s going on, Sokka?”
“You promised you wouldn’t use your truth-seeing on me unless you really had to,” Sokka said, avoiding her question and simultaneously relishing in the fact that she called him by his name.
Toph noted how tired and defeated he sounded. Something was going on and she needed to know. She knew that Hakoda had been sick for the past year, so maybe it had to do with his condition. Inching even closer to him where she was finally able to allow her hand to reach his cheek, she said, “Exactly, and I haven’t broken my promise. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Sokka sighed softly and sniffled, grabbing a rag to wipe off his face, and setting the mixing bowl and spoon on the counter, leaning against it. He pulled Toph into his chest and when felt her snuggle into him, he said, “Katara and I got a letter today from Malina – his wife, you remember her from the almost-war between the Northern and Southern Tribes all those years ago – saying that, uh, dad’s sicker.”
Toph squeezed her eyes shut and hugged him tighter. Some months ago, Sokka and Katara had paid their father and step-mother a visit to the Southern Water Tribe while Toph and Aang remained in Republic City tending to their pro-bending and avatar duties, respectively. While there, the siblings found their father in a wheelchair, unable to walk without becoming winded after taking a few steps. The tribe’s healers found a rare issue in his lungs, which made breathing abnormally difficult for the chieftain. Toph couldn’t imagine what ‘sicker’ entailed.
“How much sicker?” she asked quietly.
“Bedridden,” Sokka replied as he held back his tears and clutched his girlfriend tightly, “It doesn’t look like he’ll live for more than a few more weeks.”
Toph took a sharp intake of breath. Hakoda was a very active man, and being confined to bed was likely not something he took lightly. And the fact that he had such a short and certain prognosis at this point saddened her. She softly drew circles onto his back with her fingers as she hugged him impossibly tighter, “When are you going to see him?”
The swordsman sniffled again, “I-I don’t think I am.”
Toph loosened her grip on him slightly, still feeling his steady, yet unsure heartbeat, “What do you mean you don’t think you will?”
“I just don’t think I can see him… like that,” he said honestly, running his nose on his sleeve as he sniffled. Sokka loved and respected his father, and being forced to see him deteriorate was not something he fancied. Toph understood, but she would not be able to live with herself if she let him stand idly by as his father died. And she knew that Sokka wouldn’t be able to live with himself either.
Toph moved away and stared up into what she believed were his eyes, but were, in reality, his lips. He chuckled sadly, noticing her intention, and tilted her chin upward slightly to help her find her focal point. She hummed her appreciation, then said, “Look, Sokka, I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye to my father before he… died. And I know I wasn’t as close to him as you are to your dad, and I’m not by any means trying to compare my relationship with Lao to yours and Hakoda’s, but I regret not having made more of an effort to visit him after we made up all those years ago.
“I was fifteen when we finally hashed it out and made amends, and what? Twenty-two when he died? I reached out to him fewer times than I’d be willing to admit within that timeline. And guess what? Even if we weren’t super close, I still felt fucking lousy for not having seen him before he died; for not having spoken to him or visited him more often, or for not telling him I loved him as frequently as I should have. Before he died, I think the last time I saw him was at Katara’s baby shower for Bumi. And that was a year or so before he died.
“I can’t begin to imagine how you’ll feel if your dad passed and you weren’t there with him while he was still breathing,” she said, her hand pressed upon his cheek, her thumb moving against it softly. “You have the chance to be with him, so go and be with him, Sokka. And you won’t have to do it alone. Katara will be there with you. Hell, even I’ll go because I love you and I love Hakoda, and that trumps not being able to see properly because who cares about sight and senses anyway, right?”
Sokka was silent for a moment after having chuckled sadly at her joke at the end of her speech. Then, Toph felt warm tears fall into the hand that held his cheek, so she just held him for as long as she had to; for as long as he needed her to. They stood in the kitchen against the counter for an indeterminable amount of time as he let himself break down while she held him. His shoulders were violently shaking as he sobbed against Toph’s short body. It was rare for Sokka to ever break down like this, but when he did, his reasons were perfectly valid. Sokka had not shed a tear when it came to the news about his father up until that point in time. Though it was something she did herself, Toph hated for him to bottle up his emotions and she was partly glad that he was finally letting himself feel for his father’s condition.
After a while, when his tears had stopped flowing and the kitchen turned silent again, Sokka took a deep breath in and planted a kiss on the crown of Toph’s head.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice muffled against his chest.
“No,” he said truthfully, which broke Toph’s heart, but his sentiment was understandable. “I will be, though, once I go spend the rest of what’s left of his life with him.”
Toph smiled against him, “You’re going? Really?”
Sokka hummed his affirmation, “You were right. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t see him or spend time with him before he died. As much as I want to remember him as he was, when he was his healthiest, I have to see him. I’ll see when Katara wants to go and I’ll go with her.”
“I’m always right,” she said jokingly, eliciting a laugh from him. She felt the vibration of his hearty laugh radiate through her body. Spirits, she thought, how she loved that sound. “In all seriousness, I’m happy you’re going.”
Toph pulled away from him and stood on her tippy toes to press a kiss onto the corner of his mouth. Sokka smiled sadly and said, “Can you come with me? I know you said you would, but I wanted to make sure you really wanted to come.”
She softly punched him in the shoulder and slid her hand down to grab his hand, “Of course, I’ll come, Snoozles. Anything for you.”
Sokka squeezed her hand lovingly, then looked around her kitchen and frowned at the mess he made in his restlessness. With a huff, he said, “Anything?”
This time, Toph frowned, knowing where his question was going, “Anything but clean up your dumpster fire of a mess.”
“Please?” He pleaded. “If we both clean we can both go back to bed faster.”
“Leave it until tomorrow,” she said quietly, squeezing his hand back. “Spirits know you need your rest anyway.”