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It’s the middle of the night when Kanto’s phone rings, causing him to almost fall off his bed.
Clumsily, he feels around his nightstand to grab the device, but once he locates it, it fumbles in his palms and falls straight to the ground. He winces at the loud sound it makes as it lands on the marble floor before smartly sitting up and turning on a light to inspect it.
His heart begins to hammer in his chest when he takes a look at the screen; not because it was cracked or broken, but because of the caller ID reflected on it. The phone continues to ring and vibrate in his hands and he continues to stare at it like the buffoon he is until he reminds himself that it won’t keep ringing forever.
Deciding to not be dolt, he slides his thumb across the screen and brings his cell to his ear. “You do know it’s the middle of the night.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line, and he pulls the phone away from his ear to see if the call failed, but the seconds are ticking up, indicating that the call is still active. He spoke into the receiver again, “Beifong?”
He hears something that resembles a pained grunt, then, “Hotshot.”
“Are you—what happened, Toph?” he asks with more concern than he should’ve. “Are you okay?”
“‘M juss fine, Hot Toddy,” she slurs. Is she drunk? No, she sounds normal save for the stuffy nose. Maybe she’s sick. “I need you. Can you c’mere?”
“You want me to—why?”
“Just—c’mere, boo.” There’s a cough and a crash before the line goes dead.
Again, Kanto pulls the phone away from his ear only to stare at the screen, wondering what exactly is happening. And why the hell she would ever call him boo of all things. Toph doesn’t say boo. She makes fun of people who call their significant others boo.
Not that he was a significant other of hers.
They’re friends, yeah, but nothing like that. Plus, she has a roommate that is much more qualified to take care of her than he is. Katara is pre-med and Kanto is an engineer with basic knowledge of how the body works.
But still, she called him, meaning that she wants him with her. Something about that makes his chest tighten with something akin to hope and he shakes himself off. He’s not about to get his hopes up about anything happening between them because he supposes that it’s not meant to be.
He and Toph have known each other since their freshman year at Omashu Tech, having hit it off immediately when they bonded over their hate of icebreakers. And that’s probably when he’d started harboring his no-good crush on her. It’s literally been three years and he’s still trying to push down his feelings for her.
Alas, however, he finds himself getting up and out of bed to find the ingredients he needs to put together a half-assed egg drop soup for her. Then, he makes for the small drawer beneath his bed to find some pain and fever medication before heading out toward her dorm hall across campus.
Kanto’s phone begins to ring in his pocket again and he almost drops everything in his arms to answer it.
“Where are you?”
“I’m on my way over.”
Toph sighs impatiently but then begins to cough manically, causing Kanto to worry and quicken his pace to get to her dorm. “Hurry up, I need my Hot Toddy,” she rasps after nearly coughing out a lung.
He mentally pauses to acknowledge the nickname after having glazed over it earlier. “And I’m your Hot Toddy.”
“Mhm, now hurry up.”
“What happened to Hotshot? I was growing fond of that one.”
His hand reaches for the entrance of the hall and he punches a code into a keypad that lets him into the building. “Shouldn’t matter; hot names for a hot boy.”
Despite himself, he snorts he steps into the elevator and presses the button to her floor as she hangs up on him. He’s not sure what he’s about to walk into, but he, at the very least, expects a comedy hour.
Her door is unlocked when he arrives at the dorm, and he enters to find Toph on the floor hugging a water bottle to her chest. She’s surrounded by crumpled-up tissue and several couch cushions.
She’s not laying on any of them.
While he feels bad for her, he can’t help but hold back a chuckle at the sight as he sets down his bag of ingredients and meds.
“Hot Toddy, that you?”
Her voice sounds raspier in person than it did on the phone and he winces at the sound. She should really not be talking.
“It’s me,” he says, crouching down next to her, hesitating before deciding to place his palm on her forehead. His eyes widen immediately; he’s not sure he’s ever felt skin as hot as hers in his life. He considers the idea of having to take her to the hospital if her fever doesn’t break. “Shit, you’re burning up, Toph.”
“That your way of calling me hot?” Her brows raised a bit until she grimaced as though the gesture hurt her to make. Her words are slurring as she adds, “I was wondering when you’d come finally around.”
He pulls his hand away from her face as though he’s been burned—and to be frank, with how scalding her forehead feels, he might as well have been. Surely, she’s just deep in her delirium and she doesn’t mean anything she’s saying. She probably has no control over what’s coming out of her mouth right now. So it doesn’t matter, regardless of how much his stomach is knotting at the thought of her flirting with him right now.
He clears his throat and stands up. “Are you—do you want to lay down?”
“I do. Am I not laying down right now?” she asks, sitting up.
“Not exactly. Uh, bed? Couch?”
“Anywhere the likes of you can fit right up next to me.”
“Okay—” He practically squeaks and crouches again to scoop her up and lay her down in bed, bringing her blankets up to her chest and making sure she’s comfortable. Before he heads back out into the kitchen to get her soup ready, her searing hand shoot out of the blanket to grab his hand.
She sniffles. “You’re not leaving me, are you?”
“N—no. I just—soup? You need something to break your fever.” He remembers from biology in his first year that broth increases fluid intake, which helps reduce body temperature or something. “And I also brought medicine for you to—”
“Stay here with me.”
He shakes his head and gently pulls his hand out of her grip, causing her to frown. “Soup first, then we’ll… talk about me staying here.”
She smiles weakly. “Fine, but I’ll know if you’re lying to me eventually.”
Before changing his mind and joining her, he makes a beeline to the stove, getting out the ingredients he brought over, and setting the medication aside to give her with the soup he’s about to make.
As he gets everything ready and gets started on the broth, Kanto keeps an eye on Toph. When he’d laid her down not even ten minutes ago, she’d been sweating. Her back was humid and she just felt clammy as a whole. The fever must be doing a number on her if she’s feeling that awful.
And if she’s full-on delirious.
He chuckles to himself as he cracks an egg into the soup before finding a bowl to serve it in. His mouth watering at the scent of the broth, Kanto yawns as he pours the soup into the bowl. Somehow, he finds a tray in the bottom cabinet and he settles a tall glass of water, the bowl of soup, and the meds on it before carefully walking back over to her room.
Toph’s cheeks are flushed upon his entry, and her lips are crimson, prompting him to set the tray down quickly and check her fever again.
Shit.
It takes a few tries, but Kanto manages to rouse her after a few attempts and she seems even more out of it than she did earlier.
Her hands come up to his face and she lazily pats it, then slurs, “So you’re real.”
“I am,” he replies, grabbing her wrist and moving her hand off his nose with a quiet laugh.
“And you’re taking care of me.”
“That—yes, I guess I am… And you’re burning up, so I’m back with that soup and medicine I promised.”
Toph makes a face. “I don’t want soup or medicine. You eat the damn soup and take the medicine.”
“You’re going to have to drink both if you want to feel better, Beifong.”
“What if I don’t want to feel better, either, huh?”
Despite trying not to, he snorts, trying to get her to sit up with much difficulty. “Well, you’re going to be screwed for a good week or so, I’d say.”
Again, her face contorts into one of discomfort and she willingly sits up, allowing him to fix her pillows. “Fine. Force-feed me. See if I care.”
“Fine. I will.”
“Fine.”
Kanto grins, pressing a soup spoon into her palm and guiding her hand to the bowl. “Even sick and incoherent, you manage to sass me.”
She takes long gulps out of the glass of water he gives her. “You make it too easy.”
“Eat your soup.”
She mumbles something as she reluctantly sips on the soup, but immediately stops when she takes the first spoonful, a look of satisfaction taking over her weary features. Her eyes flutter shut and she lets out a choked moan as she swallows her first gulp. “I love me a man who can cook.”
Something must have flown into Kanto’s mouth and down his throat because after she speaks, he starts coughing, having choked on air or something as she continues eating her soup.
“It’s just—it’s a simple egg drop soup recipe—”
“You’re too good,” she mumbles into her bowl as she picks it up to drain it into her mouth. “Too, too good to me.”
Not knowing how to respond, Kanto scratches the back of his neck and takes her appearance in. Her face is looking less flushed and she’s stopped shivering. She’s even sweating a bit more, which Kanto knows is a good sign—her fever is breaking. Relief washes over him; maybe he doesn’t have to rush to the hospital with her tonight after all.
Toph sets the bowl down and leans back against the pillows Kanto had propped up to make it easier for her to sit up earlier. Then, a few moments later, she lets out what he’s sure is an award-winning belch.
As Kanto laughs, Toph groggily reaches for the glass of water—he needs to push it toward her for her to reach it—and she takes a couple of sips before she freezes, her eyes widening.
“What? What—”
She gags, setting the glass down. “Gonna puke.”
As one would expect, Kanto isn’t a huge fan of vomit, but for Toph’s sake, he’s on his feet in a second flat to find something she could throw up in. He settles for a metal waste basket by Katara’s bed and he sprints toward her just in time for her to retch.
He’s sitting right beside her, holding the small, aquamarine-colored bin up to her mouth and using his free hand to hold the stray strand of her fringe back in order to prevent her from getting a mess on her hair.
“Fuck.” Toph groans.
“I’ve got you.”
When she’s finally finished and slumps into his arms, Kanto carefully excuses himself into the in-suite bathroom to wash the vomit out of the bin inside the tub to then disinfect both the tub and the bin with bleach he finds by the toilet. He tries his best to not make himself sick at the sight of it before replacing the bin next to Katara’s bed and returning to Toph’s side. He offers her mouthwash and she takes it immediately, gurgling it and spitting it out into the empty soup bowl.
He takes the liberty of beginning to clean up, managing to put the tray away, place the dirty utensils in the sink, and fill her glass of water again before Toph bellows.
“You okay?” he asks her. “I’m—uh, I’m sorry if my soup was so bad it made you sick—”
Toph snorts and coughs a bit, looking a bit rough. Her eyes are red and watery. “It was good soup. Should make it again sometime. You know. When I’m not throwing up my lungs.”
His stomach flutters and he has to mentally scold himself. She’s sick.
Still, he manages to nervously chuckle as he comes to his feet. “We’ll see about that, Beifong.”
Before he’s able to even take a step away from her bed to get his things together and head out now that he knows that she’s taken her meds and the fever is starting to break, Toph catches his wrist and croaks, “Where you going?”
“I, uh—I was going to head back out,” he tells her. “Why?”
“You should stay. I want you to stay.”
His brows furrow and the pace of his heart quickens as he holds her hot hand. He shouldn’t, right? He shouldn’t take her up on this. She’ll surely regret having made the offer come the morning, won’t she?
“Come on,” she rasps, tugging on his hand and breaking him out of his mental spiral. “Just lay with me.”
As much as he tries to convince himself not to, Kanto ends up kicking off his shoes and crawling into bed next to her. He doesn’t even get the opportunity to make himself comfortable on the mattress before she drapes her arm and leg over his body, nuzzling his neck.
Kanto’s hand finds her hair and brushes through it with his fingers, being careful when he finds a knot. Then, he can’t help but lean down a bit and press a long kiss on her warm forehead.
In a mumble, her voice startles him. “Did you just kiss me?”
“Uh. Yes, I did. Was that weird? It was an impulse, I think, and I—”
“Mmm. You should do it more often.”
Toph is usually very direct, not unlike what she’s been since he picked up the phone to come over, but she’s selective with what she’s direct with. She’s never told Kanto that she wants more than what they have. And he shouldn’t assume so, but he really, really wants to believe that she does.
Eventually, he’s brought out of his thoughts again when he registers her soft snores in his ear and he can’t hold back the little smile that spreads across his face. He knows well that if he tells her that she snored the entire night, she’ll deny it.
The next morning, when they’re roused by the sound of his phone’s alarm going off, he realizes with much glee that her fever broke throughout the night.
“You’re still here,” Toph says, her voice still sounding gravelly. She tries to clear her throat and winces. “And why does it feel like I swallowed sandpaper?”
He breathes out a laugh, pushing her hair back. “I am, only because you asked. And I’d have to say it’s because of all your coughing.”
She props herself up on an elbow, running a hand down her face. “Did I keep you up?”
“No, I slept okay, especially knowing you were, you know, alright.”
“Oh. So, what you’re saying here, Hotshot, is that you care. I see.”
“You don’t, but.”
With the most strength he’s sure that she’s able to muster in her condition, she shoves him, almost successfully knocking him off the bed. “Funny guy. But, uh, thanks. I hope I didn’t do anything stupid. I can barely remember calling you.”
“You, uh—no. Nothing—nothing stupid.” Just confusing.
She looks unconvinced but seems to not have the energy to question him on it as she slumps back down onto her pillow. “Well, if there was anything stupid, I’m not sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
“Wow, thanks.”
Her laugh, rough as it sounds, is music to his ears, and despite the dark circles under her eyes and the patch of dried drool on the corner of her mouth, he finds her beautiful. He reaches toward the nightstand for a napkin and dips it into her half-empty glass of water to dampen it, then brings it up to her mouth to clean her up. She tenses and he kind of stops breathing.
But his lungs begin to function again when her hand comes up to grab his. “I really want you to kiss me right now.”
“Is this the fever talking, Beifong?” His heart is about to break through his rib cage. He’s sure of it.
“Who knows? But either way, there are no lies here.”
Stupidly, he leans in to take her lips with his, but a hand on his chest and an agonized groan from Toph stops him. “I’ve probably gotten you sick with how close you’ve been to me all night; let’s not make that a for-sure thing by swapping spit in my bed right now.”
He wants to argue but when she turns her head to cough loudly, he finds himself reluctantly agreeing. Still, he brushes some hair behind her ear, and she closes her eyes against the gesture.
“Next time, then,” he says as he watches her doze off again, not caring that he’s going to miss his first class this morning.
Frankly, he has more important things to do.