Work Text:
When Toph set her metaphorical sights on something, she would stop at nothing to get it.
Unfortunately, this was more of a curse than a blessing to her. The nature of her stubbornness could reach dangerous heights; it was like a spark left unattended that eventually turned into an uncontrollable fire that destroyed everything in its path.
When she received a new retrieval request for a missing item of value, Toph knew she couldn’t sit this one out. It involved attending the Chen-Yu Gala—an exclusive, newly established high-society event known more for its overpriced wine than its actual security—and returning the item to its owner. The artifact in question, a jade compass once belonging to some high-ranking general, had been reported missing three months ago. After some investigation, Toph’s sources pointed to it having been stolen by a descendant of the general, who would be in attendance at the gala. He was named Quon Wei and would surely show off his collection of other likely looted antiques there.
The job came from an anonymous collector, the kind of client who communicated through encrypted letters and paid in advance—in gold bars, no less. Toph saw the payout as a nice bonus, not the reason she’d taken it. What really hooked her was the challenge. Some smug noble had swiped an Earth Kingdom artifact and planned to parade it around in front of diplomats, scholars, and elitist scumbags, only to say that it had found its way back to him after being lost, and have it ripped from under him.
The idea of her strolling into their marble-floored little world and walking out with their prize undetected was the kind of thrill she lived for.
Despite admiring the thievery herself, Toph liked the idea of showing up some uptight, try-hard noble, so she had a job: infiltrate the party, identify the object, confirm the thief, and retrieve the compass without drawing attention, all while seeming approachable. She knew it would be simple to feel for the gold through its metallic properties once she walked in; aside from that, all she needed was to figure out who the stealing idiot was.
She also needed a date.
Of course, she could do this alone, but having someone at her side, someone distracting, someone talkative, someone she could rely on to have her back without her having to give a say-so while she did what she had to do, would benefit her greatly. It would make the job seamless.
Which was how she ended up at Sokka’s doorstep with at the very last minute, per her plan, wearing a very fancy-feeling dress she’d owned for a few years. Ironically, it had been Sokka who had picked it out for one of the many anniversary celebrations they’d had to go to (mostly against both their wills) for this reason or that; said something about how it brought out her eyes.
She didn’t want to think too much about that comment at the time. Still didn’t.
Without much thought or ceremony, she metalbent the lock to his door from the outside, not bothering to use the key he’d given her to avoid this same thing, and barged inside as noisily as possible. Much to her satisfaction, she felt the hard thump of him hitting the ground right after releasing a loud screech.
“Sure!” he shouted from where he was wedged face down between the tea table and the couch. “Come right on in!”
She grinned, slamming the door closed with her foot, and made a beeline for the kitchen. She began to feel around his cabinets for something to munch on. “I appreciate the warm welcome, but I need you to get off your ass and get ready. We’re going out.”
His head popped up from the ground, where he surely lay in utter despair, and paused. She felt a prickle of awareness on her face, down her arms, and to the tips of her toes peeking through the bottom of the dress as she unearthed the hidden stash of genamite inside a clay jar. She quickly stuffed a handful in her mouth and loudly chewed.
“Why are you so dressed up?” he asked, sounding confused or disturbed or both. She could feel his heartbeat quickening, but ignored it. “And why are we going out?” A pause. “Where are we going out?”
Toph chose to cut no corners; she told him a version of the truth: “I need a date to an event and you’re not allowed to say no because it’s going to be starting in about”—She paused, crossing to the window on the other side of the kitchen to feel the direction of the sun on her face—“twenty-ish minutes, so I hope you have something decently fancy to throw on. I also have no backup plan; you’re my first and only choice, so you should be so honored.”
Sokka was quiet for a moment, and she still felt his eyes firmly on her again. “You’re going to this… formal event willingly?”
“Sure am, and you’re going to be my date.”
“Okay, so many questions.” He was so confused; it pleased her. “First and most relevant: who are you and what have you done to Toph Beifong?”
“I’m still right here, you dolt.”
“And another thing,” he said emphatically. “You haven’t come to visit me in days and then all of a sudden, you’re asking me out to a fancy schmancy gala thing and expecting me to say yes? You’ve got some nerve, lady.”
She rolled her eyes, not even hiding her smirk. Then, she walked up to him, leaving less than a foot of distance between them. “Just go get dressed in something that’ll make you blend in with noble folk for me, will you?”
There was a beat of silence. Then, he grumbled, “Give me five minutes,” before turning on his heel in favor of stomping to his bedroom for a change of clothes.
Shaking her head at him, Toph returned to the jar in the kitchen for another quick bite of Earth Kingdom candy. Sokka was right to question her sudden desire to haul him to a hoity toity event after years of them both shitting on things like these for as long as they’d known each other. She would’ve been offended if he hadn’t been confused about it, frankly, because it would’ve meant that he didn’t know her as well as he claimed. It was gladdening that this wasn’t the case.
Still, she could feel the tickle of guilt crawling up her spine. She wasn’t technically lying to him—she was taking him to a gala, she did need a date, and she hadn’t dragged him along to anything dangerous... yet. The most danger he’d likely be in would be her pinning him up against a wall as a way to keep herself from getting made. In that scenario, he would really have to go with the flow.
If it happened that she needed a distraction, she knew he could provide it, no matter what shape that distraction may take. And he was the only person she trusted to do any which thing with, knowing he would match her intentions fervently.
He’d been her first and only choice for a reason. Not because he was the most charming or the most agreeable (he wasn’t), and not because he had some elite knowledge of noble behavior (he definitely didn’t), but because he was the only choice for her. Even without knowing the stakes, even without being briefed or bribed or threatened, Sokka would have her back.
And if everything went sideways—and it might—she knew he’d keep his cool. Or at least scream internally.
She wiped the genamite dust off her fingers, just as she heard the bedroom door creak open again behind her.
“Okay, so I found something that matches what you’re wearing and I think I look pretty good, if I do say so myself,” Sokka boasted, walking up to her, then stopping cold once there was a few feet of distance between them. He blinked a few times, eyes on her face, then cleared his throat as his heart went a mile a minute. “You, uh—yeah. So. Did I mention you look nice? I don’t think—I don’t recall mentioning that.”
She ignored the warmth flooding her face and threw him a line. “You don’t look too bad yourself. You were right about what you’re wearing matching my dress.”
His heart rate slowed, it only a fraction, then he nodded once. “Right? I think it works out well. I’m not a green guy myself, usually, but I think I can make anything look—” He cut himself off. “Spirits, I hate you sometimes.”
“Judging by your ticker, I’d beg to differ,” she commented slyly, grinning. But before he could say anything in response or she could point out how much quicker it was beating again, she gestured to the door. “We should get going.”
“Uh, yes, right, okay.” He did a three-sixty turn, likely checking around to see if everything was in order and he hadn’t left anything unattended, then followed her out, locking the door behind them. “So—what is this gala? Why do we want to go?”
She’d prepared the cover story fine, so she spewed what she could. “It’s the Chen-Yu Gala; they invited little old me because of my name and claim to fame, and I figured I’d attend. The Academy’s been under pressure to cozy up to some noble patrons. I have to play nice for one night to secure additional funding. You’re the only person I trust not to make me stab someone.”
It was a smooth lie. Her academy had been running just fine without any additional financial backing; it was even simple for her to be able to run her side retrieval business because of it. But it was an easy story for a white lie. Sokka wasn’t dumb; he was going to figure out something was up eventually without nosing into it too much, but she would keep the ruse up for as long as she could just because she liked pulling his leg too much not to.
He soaked in the information and hummed. “Where is it?”
“That newish complex nearby, actually. Walking distance, less than five minutes.”
“Oh, The Complex.” They stepped out into the open air, and she could tell that the sun was nearly gone by now. She made a left, Sokka following behind, obviously still trying to find out more about this random event he was spontaneously being dragged to. “I really like that building.”
Toph’s lips twitched. “You’re allowed to nerd out for exactly one minute. And that’s only because I think it’s a pretty sick building, too.”
He didn’t need more encouragement. “Okay, but seriously—the layout is crazy. Did you know they modeled the front atrium after the ancient Banyan-Grove temples? All the columns inside are carved from a single slab of limestone, no seams, no joints. It’s structurally ridiculous, like, in a good way. They used a cantilever design for the balconies so it looks like they’re floating—floating, Toph. No support beams. It’s insane.”
She smirked, not turning her head. “That’s thirty seconds.”
“And the roof—don’t even get me started on the roof,” he said, undeterred. “It’s this massive copper dome with a tension ring that distributes weight evenly across the whole upper level. There’s a reflecting pool up there. A pool, Toph. On the roof. It’s architectural madness.”
She snorted. “You’re such a weirdo.”
“It’s an engineering marvel,” he corrected, puffing his chest a little, clearly proud. “You can’t just not respect that.”
“I respect it,” she said, grinning now as they approached the venue—she wasn’t lying about it being at walking distance. “I also respect that your one minute is up. Any more and I’m ejecting you into the reflecting pool.”
“Totally worth it,” he muttered, speaking as though the structure was his long-lost lover. “Floating balconies, man. You know, I get a near-perfect view of it from my bathroom window. It’s great.”
Toph rolled her eyes fondly. At least he was distracted. “Of course you do.”
“I don’t like that sarcasm, Beifong.”
“Tough.”
He lined himself up to her and nudged her playfully in the ribs. “What do you like about it? You’ve never told me, and I want to hear your earthbending perspective on it.”
She tilted her head, pretending to consider it, though she'd already had an answer the moment he asked.
“It’s got bones,” she said finally. “Strong ones. Real weight to it. I like that it doesn’t try to pretend it’s something it’s not—just good stonework, done right. Not overly polished, not brittle. I would’ve done a better job with it, personally, but I appreciate that I wasn’t available at the time.”
Sokka snorted. “Humble much?”
“That’s just how it is, Snoozles.” She shrugged. “Don’t hate the player.”
“I think I will. I will hate the player right now. I’ll be the exception; I’ve decided to hate the player and not the game.”
“Meathead.”
“Hm, yeah?”
“Shut up.”
He scoffed. “Okay. Rude. I come out here with you without prior notice and this is how I’m appreciated? This is painful. I’m pained.”
Toph didn’t hesitate to sock him in the bicep, grinning when he hissed as they turned the corner and entered their designated street. “I’m sure you’re pained now.”
He rubbed at his arm with a theatrical wince. “Assault. In public. There are witnesses.”
“Not yet,” Toph said, smug. “But we’re getting close, so I’d love to give them a show.”
As they turned onto the gala street proper, the air changed—less soot and city grime, more floral incense and the faint, pretentious notes of string music echoing from a rooftop terrace several stories up. The hum of the crowd thickened, polished shoes and softer fabrics brushing the stone underfoot. Toph felt the shift instantly: the street had been scrubbed clean, the walls acoustically smoother, the vibrations of her own steps bouncing back sharper, less muddled by the chaos of the outer city.
“Whoa,” Sokka said under his breath. “Seeing this up close will never get old.”
Toph could picture the way he was probably staring—chin up, mouth slightly parted like he was trying not to be impressed but absolutely was.
The Complex, as the venue was called, stood tall and full. From what she could sense, everything about the place was symmetrical, overpolished, and expensive in that way that screamed you don’t belong here unless your family owns land and a portrait gallery.
It was, in short, obnoxious. But structurally? She had to admit, as always, that it was gorgeous.
“Toph, it’s got flying buttresses.”
Toph shook her head. “Flying what now?”
“Flying buttresses,” he repeated, awed. “You can’t see them, but trust me. There’s this one arch holding up an upper balcony using”—he sighed—“never mind, you don’t care.”
“I really don’t,” she said, snorting.
Muttering unhappily at her dismissal, he followed her towards the entrance. Scores of notably pompous rich people either walked into the building or lingered outside, speaking in their posh tones and standing with their pretentious postures. It was making her eyes twitch.
Her grimace must’ve been noticeable as they loitered at the entryway because Sokka leaned down and whispered, “Are you sure you wanted to come to this?”
She schooled her expression quickly and released a long, tired sigh. “Yes.”
“And you’re not under duress or being coerced or anything like that?” he asked her, as if listing reasons she could’ve decided to come in his head before questioning her. “You’re not a brainwashed version of Toph Beifong, right? No hypnotism at work?
“Do I seem like the type to allow herself to be brainwashed or hypnotized?”
“Touché.” He thought for a moment. “Is this for work?”
“Quit asking so many questions.”
“But I want to know—”
“Can’t I just want to go to an event to shoplift some food and make fun of the nobility?”
That got him to shut up. “I mean—yeah, okay, fair enough. I appreciate the invite.”
“Yeah.” She scoffed, starting her ascent up the stairs before them. “It shows.”
“No, I do.” Sokka rushed to her side, offering his arm, which she ignored, but he kept holding it out until she relented and took it. “It’s—I’ve missed you.”
Her brows furrowed as much as her chest stirred. “We hang out almost every weekend, dingus.”
“I know that.” He huffed. “Forget it.”
Toph shook her head at his dramatics, doing her best not to push and shove people who crowded around them; she couldn’t afford to call attention to herself. “No, tell me. Now I want to know.”
“It’s fine, no. I’m keeping it to myself.”
She reached up and flicked him. “Tell me.”
Rubbing at his temple where she hit him, he sighed. “I guess I just miss hanging out all the time, okay? We’ve gotten busy and we can’t do our thing as we would usually. You literally went on a whole tour of the world to kidnap prodigious earthbenders a few months back. I’m allowed to want my best friend around more often. Geez.”
This time, it was her turn to shut up for a hot second. They didn’t usually talk like this, all open about any missing. It was true that she’d gone away for the better part of the year to do some recruiting and they’d only exchanged a couple of letters in the amount of time she was out there because she was moving around so much, but she never thought he felt the way she did.
The giddiness spreading through her limbs irked her only slightly before she punched him again, unable to think of anything else to do or say. Then, she managed, “Kidnapping is a very strong way to describe it.”
“Of course that was all you got from what I said,” he grumbled, running a hand down his face. “All I’m saying is that I’m glad you didn’t invite Zuko or Aang or something.”
“As if I’d have invited them.” She chuckled. Then, testing him, she added, “You know it’s different with you, anyway.”
Sokka tensed beside her, and it took her no effort to pick up quickening his heartbeat amid this room full of people. His hand came up to his collar. “It’s a little warm in here, huh?”
“I’m fine, actually.” Toph beamed, then nodded to whatever was in front of her. “Tables aren’t assigned, so get us somewhere not too stuffy-seeming.”
“A high honor if I’ve ever been given one.” He cleared his throat and scanned the room with exaggerated focus, but Toph had already tuned him out.
The building vibrated differently now, fuller than it had outside—dozens of people gliding across polished stone in stiff shoes, a too-steady string quartet somewhere near the center, the persistent clink of glassware and delicate silver. She let it all fade into the background as she honed in. Feet shifted. Some heavy, some barely touching the ground. Her focus narrowed to the rhythm of movement. The drag of a long coat against the ground. The subtle rattle of metal tucked into fabric as he walked by her—
There.
The click of jade against brass in a left inner coat pocket. Slow-moving, near the eastern balcony. A heavier gait, self-satisfied. She latched onto it like a tick.
“Change of plans.”
Sokka had just picked a table and pulled a chair out for her like some kind of gentleman. “What?”
“Come on.” She grabbed his arm and tugged, weaving between the crowd with purpose. “I need to check something.”
“You just told me to pick the table!”
“And now I’m un-telling you.” Her grip on his sleeve tightened as they moved deeper into the room.
Sokka followed without protest—more confused than anything—but she could tell he was watching her closely now, picking up on her shift in demeanor. His steps matched hers in pace as they skirted past bored-seeming aristocrats and overwhelmed waitstaff. It didn’t take long to find the man she’d locked on: a tall, barrel-chested noble with a combed-back braid and a habit of trailing his fingers along every surface he passed, like he owned the entire room. Quon Wei.
He was dripping with gaudy status, based on posture and stance alone. The compass was in his inner coat pocket. She could feel it with perfect clarity, ticking faintly with its unbalanced center.
She and Sokka lingered a few paces away, Sokka commenting on a decorative ice sculpture shaped like a lion-turtle and plucking food off moving servers’ platters, while Toph focused.
Quon Wei’s stupid coat swung ever so slightly as he moved. His hand left his side for a moment, and she took her shot, reaching out with the smallest, quietest thread of metalbending, just enough to coax the compass out of the pocket and toward her waiting hand—
But his fingers brushed the object again. Not to check it. Just as a habit. Possessiveness. Maybe even paranoia. His hand hovered over it like a dragon over gold, and the moment her pull reached the edge of the fabric, his palm shifted right back against it.
She muttered a curse under her breath and let go before he could notice the tug.
Sokka, ever attuned to her moods, leaned in. “T…”
“What?” she asked distractedly.
“Did you just try to bend something?”
Shit. She wasn’t exactly being subtle, was she? “No.”
“You totally did.”
“Shut up.”
He arched an eyebrow, glancing toward the man without drawing attention. “So, this isn’t about free food and mocking people, huh?”
“I am doing those things,” she insisted. “Just multitasking. He’s got something neat in there. I’m bringing back my days as The Runaway. Figured you’d get a kick out of it.”
He kept quiet for a while after that, allowing her to focus on the relic again. Her fingers flexed at her sides, itching to try again. But the noble was moving now, shaking hands with someone near the champagne tower. She felt the subtle shift in the weight at his side. His hand tapped the pocket once more.
Then, Sokka gasped loudly and melodramatically.
She groaned. “Spirits. What?”
“You are using me,” he whisper-shouted indignantly. “You’re using me for—for your undercovering and I am morally outraged.”
“Why? I thought you would’ve been thrilled.”
He stammered for a second. “I thought—you—for some reason, I thought this was—” He ran a hand down his face. “You should’ve said something.”
“I would’ve told you if I thought you wouldn’t botch it,” she replied in the same tone, choosing not to venture into what he thought this was. She kept a firm foot on Wei, adding, “You get detective-y when things like these are involved, and I didn’t need you sneak-attacking anyone into submission while we’re here due to performance anxiety.”
She would've laughed at how appalled he seemed if she weren’t so distracted by the stupid compass. “Do you not trust me?” he asked.
“You idiot, of course I trust you. I wouldn’t have brought you.”
He scowled childishly, but she knew she was forgiven. “Then what’s the plan?”
Despite herself, her lips twitched before telling him everything she knew, including the fact that Quon Wei had the compass on him. “You caught me trying to bend a compass off him but it’s kind of hard when the fucker’s hand is constantly feeling for the thing.”
Sokka leaned in dramatically, lips close to her ear, clearly not done with her supposed betrayal. “You could’ve at least bribed me with a crab puff.”
She shuddered and struggled not to squirm at his breath in her ear. “I’ll get you two if you help me distract him.”
He straightened up immediately. “What kind of distraction are we talking about? Misdirection or chaos?”
Toph grinned slowly. “Dealer’s choice.”
He grinned back—too widely. “You’re going to regret that.”
“Prove it,” she told him daringly, raising a brow and gesturing towards Wei.
“Wait for my signal.” And he was gone.
What signal, you fool? she nearly shouted after him.
Toph tracked him easily. The rhythm of his footsteps was familiar in the way a favorite song was—just offbeat enough to be interesting, steady in its own chaotic way. He weaved effortlessly through the crowd until he’d circled around to the opposite side of Quon Wei, who was now deep in a conversation with a Fire Nation dignitary and smug enough to be vibrating with self-importance.
Toph felt Sokka lift a glass from a passing tray. He let it linger near his mouth, pretending to sip. Paused. Then—
The perfect spill.
The signal.
She heard champagne slosh forward in a well-practiced stumble, crashing against the noble’s shoulder and sleeve. The effect was immediate.
Quon Wei gasped in outrage. “You oaf! This coat is imported—hand-stitched!”
“I’m—oh, wow, I am so sorry,” Sokka stuttered, doing his absolute best impression of a flustered, bumbling guest. “It was the tray—it moved! There was condensation—physics! Let me help!”
Before the noble could shoo him off or cause a real scene, Sokka leaned in with frantic energy and began herding him off the floor, one hand gripping Wei’s damp elbow.
“No, no, no, let’s get you to a private washroom! There’s a—uh—a restroom down the hall, I saw it earlier. You don’t want to be stuck in public looking like that, do you?”
Quon Wei, too disgusted to argue and too vain to remain stained in front of the crowd, let himself be led.
Toph followed at a careful distance, weaving through the crowd with a new sense of urgency. She tracked their footsteps into a narrow side hall and heard the telltale click of a door closing behind them. No shouting. Good.
She kept track of their movements and the muffled sounds of their voices, though she couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying. There was no struggle; just Sokka furiously rubbing at whatever stain was on Wei’s ridiculous coat.
After a while, she leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, waiting. She felt Wei approach the door and push out of the washroom without sparing her a glance. Then, Sokka stepped back into the corridor, his heartbeat a little faster, but he appeared smug.
He didn’t say anything right away; he just let the door close behind him and walked with her back toward the main hall, the weight of success between them.
“Well?” she asked, buzzing.
“Well,” he pulled the compass out of a pocket in his robe, dangling it in front of her face, “I hope you don’t regret using me.”
Toph swiped at the compass, but Sokka held it out of reach. She punched him in the stomach, but he didn’t relent. Still, pursed her lips. “You love being used by me.”
Sokka coughed faintly from the punch, still grinning as he dangled the compass just above her fingertips. “Honestly? Not the worst gig.”
Toph reached for it again, but froze. Her head turned slightly, face going still. The vibrations shifted—footsteps. Sharp, urgent, heavy with irritation. Familiar.
She could feel Wei’s path carving straight toward them, cutting through the crowd purposefully. They had maybe five seconds. Not enough time to stash it without appearing suspicious. Not enough time to bolt.
So she did the only thing she could think of.
Toph grabbed Sokka by the lapels of his robe, pushed him against the wall next to the washroom, and kissed him.
It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t gentle. It was bold, messy, and immediate. She felt his whole body jolt in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. Not even close.
In fact, after the initial second of shock, Sokka kissed her back, the hand not clutching the compass wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss.
The compass was pressed between them, hidden and cradled between his chest and hers.
She felt Wei slow down just behind them, the stutter in his steps. Then a pause—probably assessing the scene, probably assuming he’d made a mistake. No one carrying out a mini heist would stop for a makeout session in a random corridor.
Toph focused on his retreating steps, only until she was sure he’d moved past. A second more, and then another. Gone.
Still, she didn’t pull away; she would take full advantage of this, deepening the kiss with a hunger she hadn’t expected to unleash tonight. Her lips parted against his, warm and demanding, while the soft pressure of his mouth matched hers. The taste of him—earthy, faintly spicy from whatever he’d eaten—flooded her senses, making the world shrink to just the two.
Without anyone to worry about anymore, she moaned into the kiss, pulling him down further, fingers tangling in those braids of his that she loved and had always enjoyed touching whenever she had the chance. Every nerve in her body sparked, heat blooming from her chest to the tips of her fingers and toes. It was like stepping onto sun-baked stone after a cool spring rain.
There was a stirring deep inside her, a flutter in the pit of her stomach she couldn’t name or explain, but she loved every agonizing, delicious second of it.
Despite herself, she broke away first, pulling back only slightly, her breath brushing against his lips. “Well,” she said quietly, “that worked.”
Sokka didn’t release her; he cupped her face and slammed his lips against hers again—hard, abrupt, demanding. The suddenness of it stole her breath. The metal of the compass he held in his left hand chilled her skin where it pressed to her cheek now, grounding her in the moment even as everything else fell away again.
Her hands instinctively curled into his robe, trying to steady herself against the wave of heat and surprise crashing through her. His kiss was fierce and raw, like he was trying to say everything he hadn’t dared to voice before in one breath.
When they finally broke apart once more, her heart pounded in her ears, her cheek tingling where the compass still pressed lightly against her skin.
“Please,” he whispered against her lips. “Please keep using me.”
A laugh bubbled up her throat as she got off the balls of her feet and rested her forehead against his chest. “I can’t stand you.”
“Oh, well, I beg to differ, Beifong, as demonstrated by Exhibit A.”
“Don’t get smug.” She grabbed his jaw with one hand. “You could’ve done all that a long time ago instead of waiting for me to make the first move.”
He gently grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer. “Under false pretenses, I’d like to add.”
“Even so. I had the balls; you didn’t.”
“Fair enough,” he conceded. Then, brazenly, he brushed his lips against the skin of her inner forearm. “What’s this mean?”
Her skin sizzled where his lips touched her arm, like he’d branded her with something she didn’t have the words for yet. Something that made her heart feel like it was both sprinting and suspended midair. Her fingers twitched in his grasp.
What did it mean? Perhaps it wasn’t something she wanted to unpack. Maybe he was caught up in the moment, though his heartbeat begged to differ.
Still, she slipped her arm out of his grip, momentarily balled a bit of his robe in her fist, and said with a smirk, “We’re meant to be undercover.” A shout in the distance from Wei snapped her out of it and back into the reality of why she was there. “And now, we need to leave before we get caught. Think you can handle that, Snoozles?”
She registered the disappointment in how he exhaled and his suddenly slumped posture. Regardless, he said, following her as she broke into a run in the opposite direction of where they came from earlier, “Didn’t even get my crab puffs for the trouble.”
“It was them!” Wei shouted, several burly men trailing behind Toph and Sokka. “They’ve got it!”
“You’re not getting those crab puffs now, that’s for sure,” Toph told Sokka laughingly over her shoulder as she sent a ripple of earth in the men’s direction to throw them off as they reached the exit.
The ground cracked under her feet, a clean upward jut of stone that knocked two guards off balance, sending them tumbling into the others like overturned wine barrels. One of them shouted something about security—too late.
“Remind me never to let you flirt with me in a medium-stakes situation again.” Sokka huffed, pushing her head down to avoid a low-swinging chandelier as they burst through a side corridor lined with ornamental armor. It was enough weapons to keep her going if those goons kept stalking them.
Toph grinned, wild and radiant, bending metal disc at one of the men; her smile intensified when she hit her target. “You started it.”
“Are you kidding? You kissed me!”
“And you kissed me a second time!”
“You moaned!”
The blush on her cheeks betrayed her, so she decided not to dignify that with a response. Instead, she skidded to a halt at a narrow window, her hands already bending the decorative metal frame outward into makeshift rungs. “Out.”
Sokka peeked over her shoulder. “That’s a second-story drop.”
“You’re nimble. And a big boy.” She slapped his ass. “Move.”
He grumbled something deeply unheroic under his breath but climbed out before her. They dropped into a tucked-away alley beside The Complex, the only witnesses a startled stray cat and the neighboring buildings.
Toph landed with the ease of someone who trusted the earth to catch her, pressing herself against the wall. Sokka hit the ground with a thud and a grunt.
“I’m fine,” he gasped.
“Wasn’t worried,” she said, even though she paused to ensure he stood up.
Voices echoed above—Wei’s goons shouting, searching, cursing, retreating.
Failing.
She turned to beam at him, reaching out to bend the dirt off him before he complained. “That was easy.”
Sokka doubled over beside her, hands on his knees. “We’re alive,” he wheezed. “That’s… that’s nice.”
“Compass?” she asked, leaning against the wall behind her and still riding the adrenaline high.
He reached into his pocket, pulled it free, and offered it with a crooked smile. “And you still doubt me.”
“You’re just full of surprises tonight, Meathead.”
“I could say the same about you,” he volleyed, approaching her. “Full of surprises.”
Her back flattened against the cool stone wall as he stepped in, and Toph let herself breathe it in—his closeness, his voice, the weight of everything they’d just done still hanging between them like fog. As he pocketed it for safekeeping, the compass spun on its chain in his hand. She did have to return that to her client in the morning.
But she couldn’t focus on that because all she could think of was his mouth. How close he was. How, now that she’d gotten one taste of that which she had forbidden herself from having, she couldn’t get enough.
Spirits, she wanted him again. She wanted to grab his collar and kiss him until her knees gave out. She wanted to feel that heat rush through her chest again, reckless and raw and overwhelming. It made no sense. It made too much sense. She hated that she liked it. She liked it too much.
He was watching her now, closely, like he was trying to figure out if she was about to bolt. Maybe he could feel the shift in her breathing, the way her heart had started up again like it had remembered it had a job to do.
Toph cocked her head, a smirk on her face.
“You know,” she said casually, “we are technically still undercover.”
Sokka nodded slowly, catching her drift. He closed the distance between them so that only less than an inch was left between their chests. “So you’re saying it wouldn’t count?”
Her lips twitched upward. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Immediately, his hands went to her waist, and before closing in on her mouth, he muttered, “Then, I’m about to be very in character.”
They were smiling when their lips collided, less desperate and rushed than the earlier one. This one was exploratory and searching, even though he felt so familiar to her, even the first time, a few moments ago. The stirring and warmth returned to her middle, enveloping her whole, and it was one feeling she would be glad to suffocate in.
Her teeth raked his bottom lip, eliciting a delicious groan that reached her core, before he pulled back to kiss down her jaw and neck. His hands touched her everywhere and nowhere at once as her back pressed into the wall behind her, the bricks surely indenting her skin. Her hands slid up his chest, fists curling in the fabric of his robe, dragging him impossibly closer as his lips found the hollow just beneath her jaw. She sucked in a breath through her teeth, her legs trembling slightly with the effort of staying upright.
He was everywhere—his mouth, his hands, the heat of his body crashing into hers like a wave she’d been holding back for years.
And she had been holding back.
Toph had spent so long pretending she didn’t notice how he smelled after a long day in the sun, the roughness of his voice in the morning, or how safe she felt whenever he was close enough to touch. She buried it, pushing it deep beneath her bravado and their joshing, convincing herself it was just a matter of friendship. Just habit. Just comfort.
But now, with his mouth grazing the shell of her ear and his breath catching like he wanted more—so much more—it all came rushing up like an unrelenting quake. She didn’t want to be restrained anymore.
This night had clearly been her excuse.
An ulterior motive for the ulterior motive.
Her nails dug into his shoulders as arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him, thumbs drawing slow, deliberate circles that made her arch up into him. She tugged at his braids—not to guide him, but to feel them in her hands, to claim them, claim him.
He groaned again, that beautiful, wrecked sound vibrating against her throat, and she swore her knees almost gave out. What she wouldn’t give to hear that again and again after tonight.
“Spirits,” he whispered, voice rough and reverent, “I can’t believe you’re letting me do this.”
Toph barely managed a breathless laugh as she bit down on his lip again. “Then shut up and keep doing it.”
He was breathless, panting slightly. “I have to say something, though.”
She brushed his nose with her own, wishing he’d close the distance again. “Of course you do.”
Sokka’s thumb ran slowly across her bottom lip, painstakingly. She realized he was taking her in, the beating of his heart slow and steady; her cheeks, if possible, heated even more under his scrutiny. “I want this to count.”
She didn’t know what she’d expected him to say—some dumb quip, maybe, something to ease the pressure between them and turn this into another joke they’d laugh about later. Not that.
But it sure made things easier.
“What a coincidence,” she said. “So do I.”