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The sound of paper rustling as Kanto’s peppermint tea and Toph’s pu'er tea steeped in their gaiwans, and a small cat resting at his feet felt very habitual. It was something she had grown used to despite never having been one for routine. Perhaps, until now, she had just been engaging in the wrong ones. Routines like these didn’t feel so bad; sitting with her boyfriend on a Saturday, him reading the paper, her resting her legs on his lap as she listened to a probending recap (an unfortunate one, at that), waiting for their teas to steep before they dug into their takeout.
Then, there was a sigh from where he sat that filtered into the side of her ear not covered by her headphones. She raised a brow, waiting for him to say something despite knowing that he wasn’t going to.
“What?” she asked.
“Oh.” He sighed, then rested a hand on her ankle and squeezed, his palm and fingers warm against her skin. “Nothing. It’s—no, it’s nothing.”
Toph pulled her headphones off, pulled her gaiwan over, removed the teabag, and took a long sip of the scalding drink. “You sure about that?”
“I just think that it’s unfair that there’s been a whole moment-capturer invented and that I don’t get to own one,” he unloaded suddenly, following another sigh. “It’s—I just—it’s stupid, I know. I would just—like—right now!”
“Right now?”
“Yes, right now!” This sentence had a tone.
She pursed her lips to keep from laughing at him. “How are you annoyed with me when you’re being the vaguest you could possibly be?”
Kanto set the paper down on the table with a thud, startling his cat, who seemed to jump out of her skin before jumping onto Toph’s lap. “I mean that right now, you look so good, and I can’t—I want to capture the moment with one of those new camera things, and I can’t because they’ve done a soft launch and there are, like, five available to the public.” He sounded genuinely distressed by this. “And I hope you know that by ‘public,’ I mean ‘the rich.’”
“I look good?”
“Yes, Toph, you look good with sunrays hitting you and your hair in a mess and Floof on your lap and the headphones hanging around your neck, yes.” He huffed. “Is that all you got from that?”
She cocked her head in mock thought as she stroked Fluffy’s (the cat’s real name) fur. “I also recall something about you wanting to capture my beauty.”
“Toph.”
“What?” She laughed, throwing her head back before pulling the headphones off her neck and placing them on the table. A balled napkin hit her cheek, and she threw it back at Kanto jovially, knowing that it wouldn’t hit its mark. “Okay, you want a whatchamacallit, is what I’m getting from this.”
“Camera. But yes, I really do,” he lamented. “But I’m not rich enough for Camera.”
“For Camera?”
Kanto cleared his throat, deepening his voice. “The camera. I am not rich enough for the camera.”
“Got it.” She nodded. “And you just want this for pictures of me, weirdo?”
“Yes, well—yes and no. Kind of.” He paused, thinking about his next words. “Because what if one day we take another plunge and, I don’t know, get married? I want to be able to have a way to capture this moment that isn’t very nicely asking you—or sexing you into—posing for a marital portrait.”
Toph’s brows rose immediately, her hands clamming up slightly at the mention of marriage. Pushing down the momentary anxiety, she swallowed. “So much to unpack there.”
He was silent for a moment, clearly not having noticed her slight panic. “You think this is ridiculous, don’t you?”
Biting down on her cheek, Toph said, “Ridiculous isn’t the word I’d use.”
“You hate me.”
“Sure, let’s call it that.”
Seemingly despite himself, Kanto snorted, then groaned. “I really want one.”
It wasn’t surprising to her that he really wanted to get his hands on this thing. She couldn’t personally understand it, but she could imagine that it was akin to her having finally gained the ability to simultaneously feel and understand the words in a letter, for instance, when that metallic ink was engineered.
Kanto was a detailed guy. He was the type of man who saved every receipt for every little thing he bought for her so he could remember when and why he bought it; the kind of man who kept a box full of the checks from every restaurant they visited. He lived for mementos. Thrived on them, even. It was his favorite thing to make and keep memories. And for Toph, who found value in specific details because of the nature of her senses, she appreciated this about him. It was about the little things for Kanto.
What wasn’t much like Kanto was that he explicitly said that he wanted something. He never asked for anything, and he was possibly the hardest person to gift anything to, even beating the likes of her best friend. Sokka wasn’t easy, but Kanto was just a walking guessing game if she’d ever played one (and she hadn’t, not until she shacked up with him). That said, it was a novelty to hear Kanto say that he really wanted this camera thing.
“Someday,” she said absently, sipping more of her tea and reaching for a biscuit from a plate that was forgotten until this very moment. “Your tea is getting cold.”
He nodded, reaching for his tea, pouring in a splash of milk and adding however many offending cubes of sugar into the gaiwan. She heard him give a cautionary blow, then take a loud sip before setting down the cup and returning to the paper. He echoed quietly, “Someday.”
Toph stroked Fluffy, who purred pleasurably. Soon, she thought, if I have anything to do with it.
Favors were for asking. Toph knew this. That was as far as she got, though. It wasn’t in her nature to ever ask anything of anyone. She either told them to do it or did it herself. That was that. It made things a whole lot simpler.
However, with this Camera Thing looming over her, she had no choice but to ask.
She had exhausted all her options.
She’d already tried buying one—turns out, Future Industries had made a set amount and already distributed those few to sellers. They also told her that, despite who she was, there was no way another one could be made at this moment. (She threatened bodily harm and everything, but even though she scared the shit out of them, there was no dice.) Borrowing one was even worse; the last portrait studio she’d walked into had asked if she was lost. Stealing one crossed her mind (more than once), but where? Those fuckers at Future were too busy shitting in their pants during her visit that they didn’t divulge this information. She had even resorted to her network of black-market handlers —and nothing. If they didn’t have a lead on one of these things, she barely had any idea where else to look.
So that left asking for a favor, and unfortunately, she knew exactly where to ask.
Her mother.
Now, her mother being the person to ask wasn’t the unfortunate part; Toph was actually due for a visit. It was more of the prying that she would have to endure during the visit that was giving Toph pause.
Poppy Beifong meant well. She was just nosy to a fault. Toph had always surmised that this was a Wealth Thing.
Hilariously, Katara suffered from the same Thing, even when she wasn’t married to the Fire Lord, so the theory made at least a modicum of sense.
Upon arrival at her childhood home, Toph didn’t bother knocking, metalbending the door open—despite possessing a key—and startling the guards and servants as she strode inside. From there, it was easy to find her mother in the sunroom at the back of the house. Poppy startled when she caught wind of Toph, who had announced her arrival with, “Burglars! Run!”
“You are not as funny as you think, dear.”
“You’re breaking my heart here, Ma.” Toph grinned. “How the heck are you?”
Poppy shook her head at Toph and gestured at the space on the outdoor couch beside her. “You’re so very tactful.”
“Thank you, I try.”
“So,” her mother said, turning bodily towards Toph as Poppy reached for a bell to ring for a servant. The action made Toph roll her eyes. “What brings you here, Daughter? Your father isn’t in, so we have the place to ourselves.”
As if on cue, a young servant came in with tea and cookies for them, and Toph said, “And the staff.”
“They’ll be scarce,” Poppy said, waving Toph off. “Unless you wanted something else to eat?”
Toph shook her head. “I mostly wanted to pick your brain about something if you’re up for it.”
The surprise radiating from Poppy was visible even to Toph. “Oh? What might you need to pick my brain about?” She paused. “But answer me something first.”
“Okay. Shoot.”
Poppy sighed at Toph’s colloquialism, most presumably, then asked, “How is that man of yours?”
“Ma,” Toph said in a groan. “Fine. He is fine, which I’m sure you know, considering you two trade gardening secrets.”
A delighted laugh left her mother’s mouth. “Oh, yes. He is very knowledgeable. I hope you keep him. Now, what was it that you wanted to ask? I am at the edge of my seat.”
Her mother’s interest made this a little harder than Toph had hoped. There was a certain pride she had, where asking for help was sort of like admitting defeat, no matter the situation. And when it came time to grovel to her parents, which had only ever happened once to get her out of a financial pinch in the City a few years ago, it was a matter of preferring to endure the gloating and the teasing over finding a very tall building to jump off of and hardening the concrete she fell on to make sure the job would be properly done.
“You have connections with those new technological industries, yes?”
Poppy reaches for her tea, then takes a leisurely bite of a cookie. “I do, yes. More your father than me, but what’s his is mine and all of that. Why do you ask?”
“I need one of those camera things,” Toph said quickly, grabbing a cookie and stuffing the entire thing in her mouth. “I can’t get my hands on any, and I’m in a the-sooner-the-better mindset here.”
“And why is that? I didn’t think you’d care about things like these.”
There it is. “I don’t. It’s not for me. It’d be a gift.”
“A gift,” Poppy repeated, as if testing the words on her tongue, and wasn’t sure if she liked the taste.
“Yes, Mother, a gift. I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept.”
Setting her teacup down, her mother asked, “You don’t care, but Kanto does?”
“Yeah, whatever. Sure. Yes.”
Poppy paused, then fully softened. “You love him.”
The comment made Toph hot all over, and she really wanted to sprint. She hadn’t put a face to the name yet. She knew what the feelings she was feeling were, but she couldn’t find it in her to name them. Not yet. Not when it could implode. She grunted, trying to stop her brain from pushing all these things to the forefront. “Will you help me or not?
“Of course,” Poppy replied simply, tending to a servant who walked in just as silently as he walked out. “I just want to hear it.”
“Do you like torturing me?”
“Just a bit. He’s a cute boy, I like to know my daughter loves him.”
Despite herself, Toph scoffed, feeling affronted. “Well, what about me?”
“We already know he adores you, dear.” Poppy reached over to pat Toph’s thigh. “You’ll be fine.”
“If that’s the case, you should’ve known the same about me without me having to say it.”
“It’s just quite fun to see you in a fluster.”
Toph ran a hand down her face, then repeated, “Will you help me or not?”
“I already have, dearie,” Poppy admitted. “While you were having a hard time avoiding telling me how much you love that man, I had a staff member run a note over to your father, who will handle the rest. I’d anticipate you could get this camera of yours by the end of the day if you’re not in a hurry to leave.”
Even feeling as utterly cracked-open as she did, Toph’s lips twitched against her will. “You’re wicked.”
“Where do you think you get it from, daughter of mine?”
By the time she was released from her mother’s clutches, Toph could no longer feel the sun on her skin. She figured it was well into the evening, and Kanto was probably trying to figure out where she’d gone, as she hadn’t bothered telling him where she was going and how long she would be away.
As she approached their apartment, she could already smell whatever he was whipping up in the hall. Toph inhaled as she pushed inside, and the smell wrapped around her like a heavy blanket—thick with soy, spice, and that deep, meaty warmth that always meant someone had been standing over a pot for hours. It was the kind of smell that didn’t just fill the air; it settled into it, clinging to her clothes and hair like it wanted to stay.
Then, her stomach churned painfully. She was starving.
Smooth, jazzy notes emitted from the radio in the sitting room as Kanto hummed along in the kitchen, still unaware of her presence. She could feel the weight of his body shifting from one foot to the other as he swayed around to the beat, followed by the sound of a smooch as he presumably kissed his cat’s head.
She observed for a little while longer from the door frame, a gift bag her mother had insisted on putting the camera in hanging from her wrist, but gave in when her stomach began to rumble so much that she questioned how he hadn’t noticed she was back. Striding up behind him, she bent the floor beneath him so he’d slide a few feet away from the stove.
He muttered a curse. “What—GEEZ!" Toph—I—hi.”
“Hi.” She smirked.
“How long—were you here for long?”
Toph only shrugged. “A bit. You seemed very content.”
For a second, he considered. “I was, thank you very much.” He pulled her into him, and she let herself melt against his body. His lips pressed onto her head. “Where’d you go?”
“Ran an errand.” Her hands weren’t wrapped around him the way his were around her, but her face was buried in his chest. She inhaled his scent: a mixture of oak and beef stew and something earthy she could never put her finger on, but overall clean. “Got you something.”
Clearly not helping himself, Kanto pulled back a tad, interested. “Me? You got me something?”
“I wasn’t talking to the cat, was I?”
“What did you—I mean, what—what is this something that you got me?”
Inexplicably, her heart was pumping as the moment built. She wanted him to love this. She didn’t want the excitement to be fleeting; she wanted him to know that she put all her weight behind this gift: finding it, getting her hands on it. She wanted him to immediately see what it meant, rather than it just being this thing she got him.
She cleared her throat and stepped away from him, lifting the bag in her hand. “See for yourself.”
It was his heart’s turn to pound now as he carefully reached for and took the bag, placing it gently onto the island parallel to the stovetop, where Fluffy lay. He patted her before Toph scratched the cat’s head absentmindedly, partly in greeting and partly to have something else to do with her hands than fidget with the rock that lived on her bicep.
Kanto took his time getting rid of the tissue paper, then folding it neatly to the side. He did this with the four sheets that covered the gift. Then, he let out something between a bewildered sigh and a laugh. “No.”
“No, what?”
“Toph, you didn’t.”
“What didn’t I do?”
He let go of the box in his hand, placing it gently on the countertop before turning to her and taking her face in his hands. “Stop being so nonchalant about this. Is this a prank? Am I being pranked? Is Sokka going to jump out of the curtains and tell me this is a joke?”
Toph couldn’t help but snort with laughter. She supposed she earned that assumption, considering the number of times she’d enlisted her best friend to prank the living shit out of Kanto throughout the year. She still remembered fondly the time that they’d swapped Kanto’s prized hematite paperweight with an identical-looking, per Sokka, hunk of pig cow dung polished to a shine. He hadn’t noticed for three weeks—not until the summer heat set in and the smell nearly cleared the whole floor.
She shook her head at him, still smiling, heart still pounding ridiculously hard against her ribcage. “Not a joke, Hotshot.”
“You—How did you even—”
Trying her best to come off as nonchalant, she shrugged. “It pays to have rich and powerful parents.”
“Pops and Mr. Lao helped with this?” He was utterly touched.
Toph sighed. “I don’t feel comfortable with you calling my parents whatever you just called them.”
“That’s too bad because they love it,” Kanto replied, his voice still tinged with awe. “But I mean—who does this? How—I just—no one would ever do this for me.”
“Yeah, well, quit ruining it, will you?” She waved him off, moving his hands, which were still cupping her cheeks like something precious, off her face. “I’d love for you to make use of the thing, judging by how much you whined for one.”
Kanto huffed out a shaky laugh, brushing a hand through his hair as if that would help him process any of this. “I didn’t whine, I just said—”
“You whined,” Toph interrupted flatly, grinning when she felt his pulse stutter. “Like, actual audible pain at the idea of not having one. You sounded like a kicked platypus bear.”
He looked down at the box again, still stunned. “Toph… this is a real camera.”
“Last I checked, yeah. Unless the guy who got it to my parents lied, in which case I’m coming for his kneecaps. I wasn’t there for the hand-off, so you see where the issue lies.”
He laughed again, softer this time. “You braved prodding for me. Prodding from Pops, and surely—”
“Don’t say it—”
“Mr. Lao.”
“He wasn’t around, actually, but he did butter the vendors off, so.” She shrugged again. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“It is a big deal because you don’t like it when anyone prods, and you like it even less when your ma—spirits, Toph. You don’t even know—” He was beside himself and rambling, and she was trying really hard not just to tell him that—“Spirits, I love you.”
So he beat her to it. The fucker.
“Shit,” he muttered, taking a step away from her. “Was I not—I didn’t mean for it to slip out like that. I also don’t want you to think that my love for you has anything to do with what you can get me, because that isn’t the case. At all, okay? But you don’t have to feel—please don’t say it back if you don’t want to. I’m not trying to—to trap you or anything—ah, not that you’re one to be trapped but—”
“Hotshot.”
“—but I feel like it’s appropriate to add that in as a little disclaimer, you know? I don’t—I just need you to know that I’m not suddenly professing my true feelings because you did the impossible and got me a whole camera that isn’t even being sold to the general public, though that is a part of it. Not the material part. Not at all, but the action. The fact that you did something that you probably would’ve rather not have done, and—”
Toph threw her head back in a loud groan, which got him to stop. Then, amid the silence, she said, “Dude, I love you. too.”
It took him a minute to process what she said—not a rarity—and after he did so, he took careful steps towards her until they were inches apart. “You sure?”
“Have I ever not been sure of anything I say?”
He swallowed audibly. “No. Never.”
“Question answered?”
“Yes, very much.”
No more time wasted, he retook her face and kissed her, stealing her breath, heating her to her core in a way no one else had ever achieved. His arms came around her, pressing her against him, but that wasn’t close enough. She suddenly had the urge to crawl into his skin, wanting not to be rid of him until she’d had just enough. She fisted the front of his shirt and kissed him back like she meant it—all rough edges and pent-up want. The counter dug into her hip, but she didn’t care. He tasted like nerves and something sweet, like he’d been holding this in for as long as she had.
What finally caused them to break the kiss was the sound of a cat’s meow. He pulled back unsteady against her lips, Toph stayed right where she was — forehead to his, pulse hammering so hard she knew he could feel it.
“We’re being bad influences on Floof,” he whispered.
“Floof’s a big girl.”
His smile was audible when he said, “You got me Camera.”
Snorting, she pushed him away, undoing the sash at her waist so she could start getting comfortable for dinner. “Don’t make me regret it.”
“I could never!” he shouted as she retreated down the hall to change into one of his shirts. However, she paused for a moment, an idea forming as she pulled her long hair out of its intricate bun and rid her body of the rest of what covered it before making her way back to the kitchen, where she could hear him plating the food.
He asked, “So, I need your opinion on this: What should I take pictures of first?”
She knew that he wasn’t looking at her; she couldn’t feel that prickle of awareness on her skin that usually came with his heated gaze. “Mmm, I might have some ideas.”
“Should I try Floof? She’s been in a mood, though, and I feel bad—oh.”
Her lips began to curve. “Think the stew needs some time to cool?”
Kanto snatched the camera off the counter and practically sprinted. “Absolutely.”