Archive of Our Own

It’s dark in his room when Sokka wakes up three hours past noon.

He’s quite familiar with the dark these days, it seems. That’s what a shit job interview is able to do to someone. 

It’s been about a week since he had the worst interview of his life for a structural engineering position in a company he’s been thirsting for since before grad school commencement. 

Sokka had his sights set on the Beifong Engineering Corporation, but no positions were ever open to apply for. That is, until the structural engineering position he’d been eyeing for forever opened up a few weeks back. 

As soon as he got the alert in his email that the application was open, he went for it.

Only a day passed before he got an email back asking about his availability for an interview. He told them he would be ready to chat the following day.

But when the time came, he fucked it up. He fucked it up really badly .

The interview itself hadn’t been so horrible, but when the questions about his past jobs came up, Sokka got skittish. He even went on this spiel about how corporations like BEC tend to overwork their employees and make people feel like shit for not overworking themselves as big bosses expect them to. And when they do end up doing just that, it’s either never good enough for higher-ups or they end up overshadowing and pissing said higher-ups off for doing a better job than they ever would.

Sokka was bitter, still is, and he can’t really be blamed as he had fallen victim to that kind of treatment too many times at every job he was hired for as he had most recently.

To make matters worse with BEC, he was interviewed by one of the head honchos herself, Toph Beifong.

The company is owned by her parents, and of course, she’s one of the people who heads operations, specifically within the department he is— was— going for. Just his luck.

It’s funny, too, because Sokka has always followed her work, not just her parents’ contributions to the field, but hers, specifically. She’s a genius and he can only fathom working with her, or even a quarter of the people she’s worked with, do even a fraction of the work she’s done.

He also has a bit of a crush on her, but that’s irrelevant.

When Sokka found out that she was going to interview him, he nearly passed out. He knew that her being the one to do so would make it so much more important for him to prove himself.

He really, really wanted this job, and he just had to go and fuck it up and say all the wrong things and get all defensive with someone who isn’t at all at fault for his or others’ shortcomings.

Truth be told, Sokka hasn’t had the best track record with keeping his jobs due to no fault of his own, however. He’s always managed to get fired or quit before he’s able to really do something in his positions all because no one listened to him; he was blamed for the errors of others, and no one really valued what he had to say all because he was the workplace equivalent of a college freshman when it was convenient for them. 

He graduated college and grad school at the top of his class, getting praise from anyone who was anyone in the field of engineering on his campuses. His research projects and theses got rave reviews and people said that he was going places. 

In fact, before his interview, he’d been working at a small company, doing work that was way above his pay grade, literally. He was taking on the responsibilities— all of the responsibilities—of his manager without the title, praise, or paycheck. And he was doing a damn good job, so knows that he has it in him to be one of the best in his field.

Or knew, more like.

But because of one blunder that was not Sokka’s fault, his manager let him go during the week and supported his decision by saying that he found out that Sokka was looking for another job. And since the Interview from Hell with BEC took place, Sokka has been holed up in the loft he shared with his college roommate Aang, hiding away from the world. 

Like a hermit.

Though he hasn’t been flat-out rejected for the position, he knows that it’s the case. He would’ve gotten an email by now—Toph herself said on the day of the interview last week—that she would likely reach out with the results by the following Monday. It’s now the following Friday.

He definitely didn’t get the job.

His phone has been going off for the past week, and even more within the past hour. He knows that it’s his sister for the most part, mainly because Aang is out of the area for some work thing—lucky him—and Zuko knows what’s going on because he and Katara talk about everything.

With a long grunt, Sokka reaches over to his bedside table to grab his phone and scrolls through the bazillion missed calls and text messages that his screen displays. And he’s right—most of the notifications are from Katara, her latest text reading I’m coming over. This is ridiculous.

Sokka doesn’t even have the opportunity to grumble his annoyance before he hears Katara outside the loft, fussing with the key he gave her for emergencies— only for emergencies—and busting into his apartment. 

Bracing himself for what is sure to come, he covers his entire body with his blanket and holds onto it tightly as if that would prevent Katara from seeing and lecturing him. 

The plan doesn’t prove to be successful.

Before he knows it, Katara is approaching him and pushing him off the bed with ease. He lands with a hiss, already expecting to see a bruise on his entire left side when he examines himself later.

He rubs the sore spot on his shoulder from the fall. “Was that really—”

“Necessary?” she interrupts, opening his curtains to let the cursed sunlight in, making him wince. “Yes, it was, considering how you haven’t replied to any of my messages or returned my calls. The only reason I even know you’re alive is that I see your battery percentage increase every so often on your location-sharing app.”

Shit. He forgot about that.

“That’s a little stalkerish of you, don’t you think?”

He could kill her with the way she nonchalantly shrugs as she sets his blanket aside and starts making up his bed. “It might be, but you gave me no choice. I’m worried about you.”

“You’re acting like I’ve been MIA for months when it’s been less than seven days, Katara, so could you just let me grieve what could’ve been? Could you do that for me?”

Katara rolls her eyes and fluffs up his pillows before plopping down on his mattress. She grimaces. “What’s that smell?”

Furrowing his brows, Sokka lifts his arm and hesitantly takes a whiff of his pit, recoiling immediately. Okay, so maybe he’s foregone his showers lately because the urge to take depression naps has been stronger. Big whoop.

He clears his throat. “No idea. Maybe it’s your upper lip.”

“Ha. Funny,” she deadpans. Then, she rests her elbows on her knees as she leans forward. “It’s just a job, Sokka, others will come around. Probably better ones. And you don’t even know if you were rejected—you’re assuming you are.”

“No. No, there’s nothing better than BEC, okay? Nothing. They’re the pinnacle, the blueprint. If I can’t make it there, I won’t be able to make it anywhere, and since that was clearly the case, I need some time to seriously reevaluate my professional direction.” Sokka laid back on the cold, hard ground of the loft, throwing his arm over his face. “Maybe I can do some teaching. I have the degrees; all I need is the certification, I think. I can do it.”

She scoffs. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being realistic,” he argued. “You were about ready to quit medicine all because you got wait-listed at your favored residency program.”

“That’s not the same—”

“Yes, it is. But the only difference is that you did get in, eventually. I had a plan for myself, Katara, and it relied heavily on me getting a job at BEC. I deserve to be down about this for a while longer.”

Some much-needed silence fills Sokka’s ears as he broods on the floor, and it takes him a while to even lift his arm off his face to see whether Katara had given up and left without him noticing. But that isn’t the case when he uncovers his eyes.

Oddly enough, he hadn’t even realized when she stood up and began to tidy up the rest of his bedroom. She’s presently clearing out soda cans and wrappers that are sprawled carelessly around the area, holding them in her arms and carrying them over to the trash bag in the kitchen. He’s about to protest when Katara crouches in front of him, a look of serious determination on her face.

“Okay, come on,” Katara says, offering him her hands to help him up and off the ground. “You need to get some sun, do something productive, get some food and some groceries and force some life back into you.”

Reluctantly, he takes her hands and allows her to help him stand. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that your fridge is emptier than that head of yours and that you look and smell like death. So get up, shower, and at least get your ass to the store for some groceries.”

He’s just about to protest, but his body odor hits him like a train. His lip curls in disgust and he mutters a fine to his sister as he lets her help him up. 

It takes him a second to know what he’s going to do next, but as soon as Katara pushes him toward his dresser, he pulls it open and grabs a fresh pair of underwear and decent clothes. Then, he steps into the shower and lets the hot water, soap, and heat do their thing.

Sokka doesn’t know why he chose to forbear his showers throughout the past week, but he decides that it was a stupid decision because this shit is therapeutic.

He’s unsure of how long he’s been in the shower before he steps out into the steam. He lets out a sigh as he wipes down the mirror in front of him to stare into his pitiful reflection. 

What the hell am I going to do? he thinks. 

What he told Katara about having a plan was true. He was—still is, frankly—so set on that position that he didn’t think of what would happen if he didn’t get it.

Jokes on him.

Moments later, Sokka emerges from his bathroom fully clothed, clean-shaven, and with his eyes slightly bloodshot from the tears he may or may not have shed as he mourned the job that he doesn’t have. He rubs his towel against his hair to partially dry it out and joins Katara in his kitchen, where she stands making tea.

She slides a gaiwan filled with the aromatic liquid over to him and pours in a splash of milk before he could ask for it. “While you’re out, I’ll clean this place up. I have to head to the hospital in an hour, though, so I’ll be out of your hair before you’re back. I just want you to return to a clean home—maybe it’ll help lift your spirits a bit.”

As much as he doesn’t want to admit it to her, he’s grateful to her for caring enough to force him out of bed, doing all of this. He needed the push to try to get himself out of his pathetic funk. 

“Thanks, ‘Tara.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thank me when your fridge is stocked up and you quit moping.” She smiles smugly at him. “Now, finish up and get out of here.”

And he does after gathering his wallet and his phone, then playfully ruffling his little sister’s hair. He walks out with a hint of a smile at the sound of her curses.

It doesn’t take him long to make it to the grocery store after he leaves the loft. The walk in fresh air is doing him well, despite the poor air quality in the area. It smells of pollution, but he feels that it beats the stench he was carrying for the past few days. 

The cold air smacks him straight in the face as he grabs a cart and pushes it into the market. He has no idea what he’s here to pick up, but he knows how embarrassingly empty his refrigerator and cabinets are, so he starts off with produce and wanders the rest of the aisles aimlessly.

He comes across the wine section after dropping several bags of junk food into the cart and raises a brow and reaches for five bottles—two reds, two whites, and one rosé for good measure. Sokka huffs as he passes by the frozen foods, raising a brow at the multiple prepared meals that could save him from having to cook for himself. He doesn’t have to convince himself to take at least two of each decent-looking stirfry he came across.

After he’s finished up, he continues pushing his cart out of the aisle but ends up barrelling into a beautifully stacked pyramid of cans. Sokka winces at the loud sound and his cheeks warm up in embarrassment. He contemplates running off for a minute and never returning to this supermarket ever again, but his dignity has already been trampled over, so he decides to stick around and help clean up his mess.

His day seems to need more spice to it, evidently, because as he’s restacking the cans into something that kind of, sort of resembles a pyramid, he hears someone slip and sees them bust their ass against a couple of cans he left in the middle of the aisle. 

Again, Sokka winces and scrambles to his feet to help the stranger who got caught in the collateral damage up. 

“I’m so sorry, I—” He offers his hand to the woman, and good grief, his day just can’t get any worse. “Um, Miss Beifong.”

“Toph. Name’s Toph.” She grunts and rubs her hip before swatting his hand away and standing up on her own. “Any idea where my cane went?”

Sokka looks around and spots it a few feet away from them, untouched and undamaged much to his relief. Quickly, he makes for the seemingly collapsible cane, and picks it up before handing it to her. “I’m so sorry—”

“Yeah, whatever. Just watch where you’re going next time, will you?”

“Yes, I—of course. I guess I wasn’t looking—”

“That’s usually my excuse.”

Surprised at her joke despite her slightly hostile attitude, he lets out a snort. “Hope you don’t mind that I’ve borrowed it for a minute.”

Her small smile sets his heart ablaze. “Not at all.”

“Cool, cool, so, uh.” He clears his throat. “You don’t happen to remember me, do you?”

“Should I?”

He supposes that it’s good that she doesn’t recall who he is. It saves him a bit of embarrassment for a change. “Ah, maybe it’s better you don’t.”

“You applied for a structural position at BEC, didn’t you?” she asks him as soon as he finishes speaking. Her head’s cocked to the side as her brows knit together in thought. “Sokka Naitok, right?”

So much for not remembering him.

He can tell that she’s just asking as a formality—she knows what the answers are going to be. Still, feeling a bit ashamed, he replies, “Sokka Naitok. That’s me. I’m sure that you kind of want to tell me off right about now because of how that all went last week.”

“No, not really. You were just about the only bit of entertainment I came across that day, so I owe you a token of appreciation.”

“That—really?”

“Mhm, it’s not every day I get to interview someone who throws a tantrum about the very people who are meant to hire them,” she says with a hint of mirth. “It was refreshing.” 

“I’m really sorry about, uh, all of that. I can make it up to you. You can’t just let me off the hook for causing this, uh, can attack.”

As if on cue, the loudspeakers around the store call out for a clean-up on aisle seven, and Sokka feels the need to dig a hole for himself—one that he would never want to dig himself out of. 

Toph snorts and crouches down, feeling for a can and shaking its contents. “Corn?”

“Beans, actually.”

“Oof, even worse. From what I hear, the bean can stacks in this supermarket are infamous, so I’m sure that you’ve done the community a great disservice by wrecking this once-beautiful display.”

This time, he’s the one who laughs and it pleases him to see that her mouth is widening with a smile when he does. He crouches beside her and starts restacking some of the cans from the collective on the floor surrounding them. “It’s just so smart of them to want to place a stack of cans in the middle of a grocery aisle, expecting that people won’t just, you know, not see it.”

“Tell me about it.”

Again, he smiles, then stands after she does with a can of beans in his hand. He nervously wipes the clamminess of his free one off his pants. “But really, are you okay? Did you—are you hurt? I can run you over to the hospital. My sister works there and—”

“I’m fine, you meathead. It’s really okay.” She tells him sincerely, making him feel a little less bad about her fall—not really about getting the time to talk to her; he likes that part very much. “But I can think of at least one thing you can do to make it up to me if you want to so badly.”

“It better be a good suggestion because I’m not one to take my can attacks lightly.”

If her smile got him near death, her laugh might kill him right now. Toph throws her head back and lets out a loud belly laugh. “Good thing I don’t, either. I just have to make sure that you’re not trying to scam a poor, blind woman like myself.”

“Of course not, I’m sure you’d sooner kill me if I ever did that.”

She grins at his reply before asking, with no hesitation, “How does dinner sound?”

Sokka freezes in place, and a can that he’s holding falls to the ground without him even noticing that it had slipped out of his hand. She’s asking him out after a) the Interview from Hell and b) he rammed his cart into an elaborate stack of cans. The slip and fall on the cans must have really done a number on her.

Toph is wearing a teasing expression on her face, likely at the nature of his reaction to her straightforwardness and he doesn’t know what to make of it. Still, he needs to give her an answer before she rescinds the offer. 

“Dinner?”

“It’s what I said.”

He thinks on that for a second, though there isn’t really much to think about. A woman he’s had kind of, sort of crush on is standing in front of him and asking him to take her out on a date despite what’s happened since they met a week ago.

With a sudden burst of confidence, he asks, “How would you feel about me making you dinner? Tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“If you’re down for it, yeah. Tonight.”

Toph bites back a smile, an action that sends shockwaves through Sokka’s body somehow. “I’m down, if only for your eagerness.”

He tries to not let his excitement become too evident, though he knows for a fact that he’s failing miserably because he’s hearing his rapid heartbeat in his ears. “Cool. Tonight, then. My place. I’ll, uh, see then?”

“Sure, yeah.” She nods back with a smile. “But you’re forgetting that I don’t know where you live, Meathead.”

Sokka resists the urge of giving himself a firm smack on the head. “Right. Address. Uh…”

“Phone number?” she supplies smugly, a smirk playing on her lips at his blunders. “You can just, you know, text me like a normal person who’s asking someone on a date would.”

“Oh, um, yes. Phone number,” he says pathetically, pulling out his cell and saving down her number when she dictates it to him. He shoots off a quick text with his name then pockets his phone. “And, uh, it goes without saying that I hope that my, uh, interview doesn’t change your mind about our, um, evening together.”

Toph purses her lips and he doesn’t know what to make of the gesture until she says, “You won’t scare me off that easily. I’ll catch you tonight, and send me that address.”

“I—yeah, will do,” he says to himself because she already turned on her heel with her basketful of groceries and her cane tapping becoming more and more distant as he watches her walk off. 

“Hey!” he hears someone shout behind him. “Did you do this?”

Sokka swallows, grabs his cart, and wheels himself away from the chaos of the cans and the managerial-sounding voice before detouring toward the meats section to figure out what the hell he plans on cooking for Toph tonight.

What the hell has he gotten himself into?

“You asked her out?”

“Uh, no, I—I asked her in. Because—because I’m making her dinner. Here. Tonight.”

Katara huffs over the phone and he can hear her typing away on a keyboard, probably logging patient hours or whatever it is she has to do on evening shifts. “Okay. I mean. What’s the damage here? It’s not like you’re working for her and you kind of fucked up your chances of ever working for her in the future—”

“Gee, thanks, sis.”

“—but I guess I’m worried you’re doing this for the wrong reasons?”

“What?”

“Like.” She sighs, looking for the right words. “You’ve been after this job forever and you got maybe, possibly rejected and now you suddenly run into her, and after almost killing her with stacked canned goods, you ask her out. Doesn’t it feel like you’re, I don’t know, trying to get her to reconsider?”

Sokka pondered upon that for a moment but immediately dismissed it. Not once until Toph herself brought it up had he even thought about the job while they spoke. He’s genuinely interested in her, in getting to know her, and now that he thought of it, picking her brain about the engineering field. They’re bound to have some great conversations.

But then again, how would he look to Toph? Has she thought about this as a possibility? Is she possibly already reconsidering this date?

“It’s not like that,” he finally tells his sister. “I’m not like that. I don’t just ask women out to see what I can get out of them.”

“No, I know that. I’m just worried. You wanted this job so much and—”

“And I didn’t get it. I’ll have to live with it.”

Katara exhales. “Okay, all right. I’ll allow myself to be happy for you. It’s not every day your big brother gets to go out with the woman of his dreams.”

“Shut up.” He feels his cheeks warm up as he chops the vegetables that are going into his stew. “Have a good shift.”

“Have fun, and use protection.”

He hangs up the phone, his cheeks still ablaze from the tail end of the conversation. He isn’t expecting anything from this date except for good conversation. He wants to get to know her and the opportunity presented itself when he made a fool of himself in front of her at the grocery store. For years, he’s followed her and her work, and he’s always admired her for everything she’s done in their field, and the fact that she’s taken interest in him despite his idiocy—and after realizing who he was—made him feel… excited. And if things end up escalating… he would make sure that she’s comfortable, and he’s confident that she would make it known to him if she’s not.

Sokka thinks back to the first time they met; she was nice and so was he. Their interview was going smoothly until she questioned him about how he seemed to be leaping from job to job more quickly than is often seen in this field. And he kind of lost it.

“It’s not my fault that I can’t retain a job. It’s you people.”

“ You people,” Toph parroted, her eyebrow in her hairline. “Please, elaborate.”

On any other occasion, Sokka might have stopped right there, sat down, and shut up, but his anger overpowered his sense. He stood up and began to pace around the room. “Yes, you large business owners don’t take the time to give people the proper training they need. You expect us wide-eyed, evergreen folks to deal with what’s thrown at us without any experience. 

“And if we do end up stepping up to the plate, you get pissed off if we do better at it than you do! We make one stupid mistake and we end up getting the shorter end of the stick despite our hard work and us busting our asses for you people, so please excuse me if I’m resentful over this, Miss Beifong. Can we please move on?”

For a second, Sokka thought he’d seen amusement flash in Toph’s expression, but the suspicion was shot down when she said, “That won’t be necessary. Please expect an email from me in the coming days—Monday, perhaps.”

She’d stuck her hand out from him to shake, and he thinks he shook it, but he can’t be too certain that he did because all he remembers is storming out of that building like hell and not looking back.

That day, he got home, closed his shutters, and called the start of his downfall.

He hasn’t even started looking at new job listings yet, something he should probably start doing soon, considering that he needs to make rent every month and his rainy-day fund isn’t going to supplement him for the rest of his life.

His thoughts are interrupted when he hears the knock on his front door. His eyes widen as he drops his knife. 

She’s early.

Sokka clears his throat, towels off his hands, and walks over to the door, but not before eyeing himself in the mirror on the way over to make sure he looked decent. He mentally smacked himself for not remembering that his looks didn’t matter seconds later.

“Toph, hi,” he very nearly squeaks when he opens the door to her. She looks stunning—her hair half-up, half-down, a far cry from the rigid buns he’s seen her wear, a pair of black jeans, and a dark green hoodie with a matching cane. 

She smirks before stepping into the loft without being invited in. Sokka smiles after her as she says, “Nice place.”

“Yeah, I share it with my roommate. Uh, he’s—he’s not here right now. Away for work.” He clears his throat again. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Mhm, it has a certain likeness to it.”

“It does, doesn’t it? We picked it out because it’s so spacious and nice-looking and—” Sokka doesn’t even pretend to hide his facepalm. “I’m sorry.”

His heart does this flip when she laughs and he tries to ignore it. She guides herself over to one of the stools by the kitchen island and sits. “You’re good. I just had to. Seemed like you would be one to forget that the blind are blind.”

“Ah, don’t take that personally, I forget many things.”

“That doesn’t sound promising what with the career path you’ve chosen.”

Sokka blushes as he circles around the island to tend to his veggies before tossing them into his pot. “So I’ve been told.” He sniffles awkwardly to fill the momentary silence. “Uh, anything to drink?”

Toph thinks about that for a second. “Got any wine?”

He’s about to tell her that he’s got four bottles but decides to keep his mouth shut as he pulls out a pair of glasses and asks her what kind she wants—she chooses red. 

A woman after his own heart.

As soon as they start sipping on the wine, he feels himself loosen up. They chat easily about anything but work as he cooks, which he highly appreciates. She doesn’t say anything about the interview, or about his attitude. It’s like a clean slate and he enjoys getting to know her.

He gets back to chopping and preparing their dinner and he’s happy to report to her that the food is taking shape nicely.

“Do you cook often? You know, for your dates? Is that your move?”

“Oh, yeah. The ladies love it.”

She stands and saunters over to the stove next to him, then she leans forward and inhales the scent of the stew, her eyes closed, and a content sigh leaving her lips when she pulled back. “I can imagine why.”

“So, uh,” he says awkwardly, “tell me about yourself. Um, not just what I can find on your About Me website—just… you.”

Toph walks back over to the island, but sits on it, rather than the stool, with ease as he puts a lid on the stew so it can finish cooking. “What? Not content with your Google search?”

“Nope, not really. So spill.”

She rolls her eyes, but says, “Well, I’m an only child, which I’m sure you know, but I never let that get to my head.” She takes a sip of her wine before continuing. “I was spoiled and made to know that I was being brought up in a privileged family pretty early on in my life. I liked living a simple life, even when I had maids waiting on my hand and foot—I liked doing things for myself. And I assume that you can imagine how that was next to impossible with my blindness. 

“It took my folks a while to accept that I was my own person and that I was doing just fine on my own, but I guess I’m lucky that they came around eventually.”

Sokka is listening to her speak intently, taking his eyes off her once or twice to check on the stew and on the bread rolls he’d recently stuck in the oven. 

She heaves a sigh and leans back on her hands. “I’m professionally trained in chow gar, so I can kick your ass in a heartbeat without you even realizing it… I advise that you don’t cross me, Naitok.”

“Wouldn’t think of it, Beifong.”

They share a laugh at that, and he gives them each a refill of the wine. Standing in comfortable silence as they sip, Sokka thinks about how much he’s enjoying himself already. He’s forgotten about his woes and is having fun.

It doesn’t take much longer after for dinner to be ready and before he fills their plates and wine glasses again, he guides her to his dining table. She thanks him as she plops down into the chair he pulls out for her and he smiles to himself.

While they ate, she tells him that she found out about her love for engineering while in an elective course in college, causing her to switch majors. 

“Admittedly, I tried to stay away from it because I didn’t want to be one of those kids who just had to follow in their parents’ footsteps,” she says as she eats. “But I ended up loving it. It’s almost like a smack in the face—a worthwhile one, at least.”

Sokka blows on his stew before drinking a spoonful of his stew, which is to die for if he says so himself. “What made you specialize in structural engineering?”

“I don’t know,” she replies with honesty, munching on a slice of bread. “I like the idea of things that I design, that I have a hand in building, becoming everlasting. To me, it’s about giving life to something that was once simply a plan on paper or a fantasy. And I come up with these ideas that end up being record-breaking. I guess I like the gratification it gives me in the end, too, you know?”

He grins at her response. “And being at the top of the food chain in that respect must be nice, too.”

“Oh, yeah. I get this sense of accomplishment whenever I’m able to help someone out, get something done, experience things click into place.”

“I assume telling people what to do must also be pretty fun.”

Toph purses her lips to keep herself from laughing at his joke, but she fails because he can see how her shoulders shake with silent laughter behind her wine glass. “There’s that, too, yeah.”

They both laugh at that and once they settle, she asks him, “What about you? Why structural?”

His heart accelerates. Trying not to let on about how he’s feeling, he drains the wine from his glass and pours himself another. 

“Ah, well, I really just enjoy the work one puts into planning a structure. The fact that I can use my skills to plan and design something is, like you said, pretty gratifying.” He laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s also exhilarating to see something you created and envisioned come to life, knowing that your talents were essential in making it happen. It’s not an easy job, which I’m sure you know, but it’s something that ends up paying off for me. So. Yeah.”

There’s a small smile on her face when he finishes speaking and he doesn’t know what to make of it. The glint in her eye reminds him of her reaction to his aggressive speech during their interview and it makes him shiver.

The two of them finish their dinner in silence until Toph leans back and whistles. “That was really good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Best stew I’ve had in a while,” she replies with another one of her winning smiles. Sokka thinks that he’s never been so affected by anyone’s smile before. He finds himself more and more attracted to this woman by the minute.

Just as he’s convinced himself that she can’t possibly do anything else to make him fall head over heels for her, she reaches for the wine bottle and wraps her lips around it to take a few gulps. “Let’s drink.”

He shakes himself out of his spell and forces out a laugh. “You want to drink cheap wine? For fun?”

“Sure! The night’s still young and you’re good company.” Toph stands, taking the bottle with her and grabbing a hold of his hand. “I’m also not quite ready to leave yet.”

Frankly, Sokka doesn’t know how he’s standing, but he agrees and leads her into his living room anyway, relishing the time he’s about to spend with her. He doesn’t think he’ll tire of hearing her talk tonight.

Or ever. But he’s getting ahead of himself.

An indeterminable amount of time passes after dinner, and they’re laughing about a story Sokka had just told her about the time he was present for the birth of one of his friends’ kids. He recounted the way he passed out as he watched Katara do her thing and the baby crown. Toph had to stop drinking for a bit because there were tears running down her cheeks that had been shed at his expense.

They chill out and he takes a look around. They had somehow managed to transfer their party from the comfort of the couch to the cold, hard ground of the loft. Her legs were on his lap and his hands were on her thigh.

Sokka bursts out laughing again, throwing his head back onto the couch seat behind him, finding that he’s comfortable in this position. “How’d we end up on the floor in the first place?”

“Your cheap-bitch wine, that’s how.” Toph cackles in response as she took another swig out of the bottle in her hand as he snorts at her response. They’re on their second bottle since dinner, and he’s, admittedly, a tad spiked. Toph, however, seems fine. “But I like it down here.”

“Yeah? How come?”

“Well, you’re here, for starters,” she says nonchalantly, making him all but stop breathing. “And I’m also a fan of hanging out on floors. They’re comfortable if you give them the chance.” 

She lays back, keeping her legs on his lap. Sokka takes this opportunity to take a good look at her, and Spirits, she’s beautiful. And based on their conversations this evening, just as smart. His unfounded crush on her and her brain is founded after all.

When she props herself on her elbows so he can see her, he blushes as if he’s been caught staring. 

With a grin, she speaks again when she sits up, hugging her legs but not moving them out of his space. “I shall have you know that this is a horrible conflict of interest considering I don’t make it a habit of having a personal relationship with any of my employees.”

Sokka tenses at her words. Is she joking? Is she that cruel? “What—I’m not—employee?”

“Yes. Congratulations. But, like, don’t make it a big deal, alright?”

“Congratulations?” he croaks. “Wha—why?”

“What do you mean why ?” Toph asks, leaning back a bit. “Didn’t you get my email?”

Sokka freezes. “Email? What email?”

“I sent you an email,” she says slowly with a frown. “You haven’t seen it?”

“No.”

“Do it now.”

His brows are furrowed when he leans to the side in order to grab his phone out of his pocket with nervous hands. He taps away until he finds his email app and as soon as he refreshes, there, at the very top of his inbox, is an email from BEC’s Toph Beifong with Offer Letter in bold letters on the subject line.

He turns to her with wild eyes, the excitement he feels is unmatched. There is nothing he wants more than this job with her at this company and she just handed it to him on a silver platter. He’s worked for this for years and it’s all he’s worked toward since he can remember. 

But as soon as the excitement and euphoria appear, they disappear. Why would she just break this news to him now? Had this evening with him influenced her decision? While he’s flattered that one dinner and a couple of wine bottles have managed to change her mind about that shitshow of an interview, he’s not at all comfortable with that being the sole reason behind his hire.

“I didn’t—this wasn’t—I actually—”

“Relax, Meathead.” She pats his thigh and shifts her legs off his lap, making him mourn the loss of her contact. “What’s up?”

“I didn’t invite you here, do all of this, to get the job. It wasn’t even on my mind until you brought it up. You were—I’m—I didn’t expect this to happen, okay? My intention was always to just get to know you because—”

Her smile almost makes his heart stop, he’s sure of it. She gives his shoulder a shove. “I know that. I had scheduled that offer letter to go out today the moment you left my office last week just to keep the suspense going. I knew I was going to hire you the moment you went off on me. Coincidentally, we bumped into each other before it was sent. It has nothing to do with you asking me over or whatever’s happening right now. I just call it good timing.”

“What—what made you—”

“Hire you after you threw your tantrum?” she asks with a smirk playing on her lips. When he nods dumbly and then audibly mutters a yes, she says, “You said what no one ever says about people who run companies like BEC. You said what even I think about this environment. You didn’t care that you were talking to me, the person who would become your superior, or that my parents run the company. You just said what you felt, and that’s the kind of person I want leading my team. Someone who takes no bullshit and does what has to be done and clearly loves their job.

“I like you, Sokka,” she admitted. “Way more than I should in my position, anyway.”

Sokka doesn’t know if it’s pure impulse, the alcohol, or the thrill coursing through his veins after what he’s just learned, but he finds himself closing the considerably short distance between him and Toph, fervently pressing his lips against hers. Toph doesn’t even hesitate to respond, her hands balling his shirt in her fists as if trying to pull him closer to her, into her. 

She’s on his lap in seconds, tangling her fingers into his now-loose hair as she’s managed to pull off the band that holds it together. They moan into each other’s mouths as he feels the tickle of her tongue against his in every part of his body. Hands are everywhere, tugging and touching and caressing everything within reach, and though it might not be the most appropriate thing to do in his new situation— with his boss —he didn’t really care about it.

The warmth pooling in his belly is unmatched and there hasn’t been a time when he’s ever had a comparable sensation. His body reacted to her touch in a way he’s never been privy to in his life. He moans again, deep in his chest, and she grinds against the hardness in his pants, setting his already there desire alight. 

He hasn’t felt like this in a long time. In fact, he’s never felt like this. Ever.

In one fell swoop and in a moment of absolute boldness, Sokka moves her off his lap and pushes her flat onto the floor, and Spirits, the look of her.

She’s flushed and panting and he thinks that he’s never seen anything like her, and he’s happy that it’s not until now that he has. 

Before he continues, he gently asks as he runs his knuckles against her cheek, “Is this all, you know, okay?”

Her face splits and he grabs his collar to pull him down against her, her fingers making quick work of undoing the buttons of his shirt. She pushes his shirt off his shoulders as soon as she’s done and runs her hands down his bare skin. 

He’ll take that as a yes. 

He inches his hands up and under her hoodie, little by little, until she takes his hand and guides it up to her breast. Toph arches against his touch and presses herself against him, making him groan in satisfaction. 

Somehow, they move through time and space and fall onto her bed. There’s muffled, ambient music playing in the sitting room that he’d forgotten was even playing, one of the large windows in his room is open, letting a brisk wind into the loft, though neither of them is paying any mind to any of it. His heart thunders as they get to know each other in this new way.

He rears back to entirely discard his shirt and thumb her lips, then he kisses her again before helping her sit up to rid herself of her hoodie and bra. Sokka takes her in visually and he lets out a sharp exhale, making Toph smirk.

“Like what you see?”

“So much.” He kisses the tops of her breasts.

He’s pressed up against her as she raises a leg up around his waist. His desire for her is at its pinnacle and he’s sure that she can feel the evidence of his need against her thigh. 

More kisses, wet-hot, and open-mouthed. He moves down her body, leaving a trail of flames behind him and relishing the audible sighs of pleasure she lets out. He undoes the button on her jeans and shimmies her out of them.

Sokka takes a quivering breath at the sight of her before hooking his fingers on her panties and pulling them down. She shivers and squeezes her thighs when he dips down to taste her. 

He watches her through his eyelashes as she releases, crying out his name in a way. He already can’t wait to hear it again.

Toph reaches out to him to undo his pants and push down his briefs before he can move back up her body.

“Condoms. I don’t have condoms,” he manages to say, too concentrated on the taste of her still lingering on his tongue as he kicks away his pants and undergarments. “It’s, uh, been a while.”

“Jeans, back pocket,” Toph says without hesitation. 

Sokka pauses to look at her, amusement all over his face. He can’t resist the subsequent snort. “So do you just carry condoms in your back pocket wherever you go? Just in case?”

“Hey, hey,” she says, her amusement matching his. “Your little spiel in my office during your interview was so very arousing, and when you asked me out, I wanted to make sure I was prepared for anything that was to come. Can’t blame me.”

Sokka exhales a laugh and reaches over to her jeans, which were sprawled on the ground next to his bed, and sure enough, he finds three condoms in the right-side back pocket. 

It takes no time after that for him to settle back between her legs, kissing her intensely before sinking deeply into her. She gasps and tightly wraps her legs around his waist to push him more deeply into her. They both sound out in pleasure and satisfaction. Her hands claw at his bare back as he reaches down to touch her center, both of them already at the very brink of finding their release. 

He doesn’t allow himself to unravel until she does, coming with the loud cry of his name on her lips. Then, he trusts deeper and buries himself into her neck, ending with a shudder,

Sokka slumps next to her when they’re finished. Around them, the sheets are a twisted mess. She draws the covers up over her body and fixes her blind gaze on the ceiling a look of what he can only identify as bliss on her face. He can’t help but feel a tug of fulfillment in his chest. 

He stands on shaky legs to grab a damp rag from the bathroom to clean up their mess. Gently, he tells her that he’s going to do so and she nods with a glint in her eye.

Under the sheets, his hand takes hers once he’s done. They rest there for a while, awaiting the slowing of their beating hearts, the slowing of their breathing, for their bodies to catch up with their heads.

To him, this is already so much more than a one-night stand. He doesn’t care who she is or the fact that she’s now his boss; he just knows that he likes her, that he wants her, and that he doesn’t want things to end here.

But there are things to consider.

He cups her cheek, leaning forward on an elbow and she kisses the tip of his finger when he thumbs her lips. He bends down and brushes her lips, his hand reaching up her side to cup her hip as her foot moves up against his leg.

“So…” Sokka trails off, finding the feel of her skin against his much more interesting than the question he’s debating to ask. “Since I’m your, uh, employee now and all… this can’t, uh, happen again, huh?”

A wicked smile spreads on Toph’s face, one that makes the tension between his legs return. She reaches out to run her hands over his face, feeling his features. “I never said that.” 

And he’s a goner.