Chapter Text
“Ready to go, Tophee Nut?” you ask, as you hoist your pack onto your shoulders.
Toph Beifong scowls at you, but you notice the slight twitch at the corners of her mouth. “Don’t call me that!”
You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? You call me Tumble.”
Toph scoffs. “That’s different. You caused a rockslide on your first mission with us.”
“We were fine!” pipes up Sokka.
“Yeah, we were fine!” you say, nodding towards him.
“Whatever . . . I don’t do pet names,” Toph grumbles. However, as she turns to pick up her pack, you see a faint smirk.
You’ve been travelling sporadically with the legendary group for about a year now, after somehow managing to impress Toph enough at her Metalbending Academy. You had been the only one to show real promise with metalbending in your class. She had taken an interest in you for it, and you ended up bonding over your shared sense of humour, quick wit, and dry sarcasm. She had nonchalantly asked if you felt confident enough to go on missions one day, and you had jumped at the opportunity. If you were lying to yourself, it was merely a great chance to expand your skills, but if you were being truthful, you had a yearning to spend more time with Toph. A need to get even closer.
You had always admired “the greatest earthbender in the world.” After all, she was a legend twice over: founder of metalbending, and a war hero before she had even hit her teens. But you soon came to realise that you really enjoyed her company. You kept telling yourself it was purely admiration you had for her, and nothing else . . .
On that first mission, it was all exciting and eye opening, seeing what missions entailed. You seemed to meld into the group easily. One day, while mingling and laughing with everyone, you caught a glimpse of Toph just out of the circle, leaning against a boulder, arms crossed, smirking. She seemed pleased that her friends had taken to you.
The first mission was a simpler one: finding the son of a noble who had wandered off into the desert in a drunken (and foolhardy) attempt to break through into the spirit world.
You had noticed Toph subtly looking after you. Quietly. Little things, like walking on the outside of cliff paths, ensuring the ground remained sturdy and smooth at your feet. She thought you didn’t notice the way cracks closed themselves, or rocks smoothed themselves into sand before your feet had the chance to trip over them. You also began to discover her playful and caring side. The way she flicks pebbles at you when you get a little too serious, or too bold in your teasing. The way she leans a little closer when you speak, like she’s tuning into you, specifically, in a world she mostly reads through vibrations.
One night, as you two were sitting around the fire, everyone else gone to bed, she said, “You’re not afraid of me.”
It wasn’t a question.
You glanced at her, poking at the fire with a stick. “Should I be?”
She shrugged. “Most people are. Or they pretend not to be.”
You thought about it. About how she carried herself like she didn’t need anyone. How, aside from her childhood friends, everyone seemed to orbit her, never really touching her life.
“I think . . .,” you said carefully, “you just don’t give people much room to get close.”
There was a moment of contemplative silence. The only sound the fire crackling.
“ . . . Huh . . .,” she finally said.
That was it.
But something shifted.
Toph continued subtly looking out for you, but she also began to seek you out, though she would never admit it. She began sitting next to you during meals, bumping your shoulder with hers. She would ask – demand – your opinion on things.
“Do you think this is a dumb plan?”
“Kinda . . .”
“Good. Me, too.” She’d grin like you just gave her something splendid.
She began to ask you on more missions, until it practically became your part-time job. Not that you minded. Any chance to spend time with her. And to hone your skills, of course.
At this moment, you and the gang are travelling a difficult mountain range, keeping an eye out for dragon poachers. It has been a bit of a rough time since, in order to not attract the attention of dragons and poachers alike, you aren't flying a lot. Appa ambles along with the group, occasionally carrying the tuckered out passenger or two.
The goal for the day is to head into a small village nearby to stock up on supplies. Once you reach it, everyone goes off in different directions. You and Toph end up walking around together. You both chat as you walk. Suddenly, the crowd gets a bit denser, and someone almost knocks you off your feet.
As you lose your balance, you feel her hand around your waist, catching you. Firm. Grounding.
“Watch it!” she snaps at the man who bumped you, a menacing crack spidering out from one of her feet towards him.
He quickly apologises and hurries off in a panic.
Toph’s hand lingers half a second longer than necessary.
You feel it.
You don’t say anything.
Neither does she.
That evening, there’s a storm. The rain comes down so heavily, even Toph can’t “see” the way she’s used to. You can tell it’s unsettling her.
The group finds refuge in a small cave. Once again, you and Toph are the last ones around the small fire that night. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and you can tell Toph is still feeling unsettled. So you begin talking. About nothing. About everything. You just want to distract her.
You talk about your childhood, your fears, the kind of future you hope to have. You want to eventually live quietly near some woods and a river, enjoying the solitude and free time.
After a bit of silence, Toph says, “You think about that stuff a lot?”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
“Weird.”
You laugh softly. “What, you don’t?”
There’s a long pause. Then, quieter than you’ve ever heard her speak, “I didn’t think I got to have that sort of future.”
Something in your chest tightens.
“You do . . .,” you say reassuringly, “if you want it.”
She turns towards you. You can feel the weight in her attention, and you find it difficult to meet her eyes, even though you know she can’t see you.
“. . . What if I don’t know how?” she practically whispers.
It’s the most vulnerable thing she’s ever said to you.
Before you can overthink it, you shift a little closer.
You reach out. Slowly. Carefully. Giving her time to pull away if she wants to.
She doesn’t.
You take hold of her hand. Your fingers automatically lace together.
And for once, Toph Beifong doesn’t have a comeback.