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~Everybody knows that you're my weakness / You're an open secret, I'm afraid~
Somewhere Like Home
Hair tickled Sokka’s nostrils, waking him from his deep slumber. He inhaled the petrichor scent mixed with something citrusy that he could never exactly put his finger on, despite trying to often before his eyes opened. A light, sleepy smile touched his face as he pulled Toph closer into his chest, pressing his lips to the crown of her head and leaving them there, breathing her in and relishing her warmth in the briskness of the bedroom.
The soft light of mid-morning snuck in from between the curtains at the window that one of them had accidentally left open last night, bringing in a wintry chill that made him want to burrow further into the blankets they were under. A sudden shiver wracked his body as he cursed himself for potentially waking Toph, whose limbs were tangled in his, but she slept like the dead, her mouth still partially open and soft snores filling his ears. Involuntarily, her hold around his waist, where her arm was thrown, tightened.
Sokka let his eyes slip shut, too lazy, cold, and comfortable to move from his current position, and wove his fingers into Toph’s still-flooringly long hair, scratching her scalp. He couldn’t figure out how she hid its length so well when he saw her let it loose entirely for the first time, and he still couldn’t. All he knew was that it was always too beautiful not to look at.
It wasn’t tangled, probably because she’d let him braid it yesterday during their lazy day in, so it was easy just to run his fingers through the black strands. As he did so, she released a calm sigh before nuzzling further into him. The action melted him. He couldn’t help but press another kiss to her head because he could do that now. It was completely natural to act this way with one’s significant other. But was it normal for them? What was their new normal? This? Would she end up hating it? Should he pull back and risk her thinking he doesn’t care? Should he do more and risk her pulling away?
This whole thing with them, him feeling comfortable enough to let himself touch her like this, think of her this way, was still so new. Every little action he took felt like a smallish risk that threatened the ground they stood on. He didn’t want to do anything to screw it up—something he was very known for at this point in his life. He didn’t want to give too much or give too little; he didn’t want to scare her off, which he knew was likely. No sudden moves.
If there was a relationship that meant more to him than ever fathomable, it was his relationship with Toph Beifong. It had to be unshakeable. It had to be long-lasting. There was no other option.
Well, the other option was his perpetual loneliness after she inevitably broke up with him because he was too little or too much. Too Sokka.
Most days, he was so sure that everything was the way it should be. That he was being just the right amount of himself. That he was being exactly what she fell for. But then, he would get stuck on whether he was being too much of a goof, or if he was laughing too much at his own jokes, that he was being too clingy, intense, or eager. He would become aware of how big he felt around her, physically and emotionally, like there was too much Sokka in the room at any given moment.
She was always so steady and grounded and calm about it all. Sokka was not steady or grounded or calm; he was vibrating. Constantly.
This development, their relationship, seemed like a natural flow to Toph. She appeared to be unchanged, so casual about the whole thing. She would turn at any given moment to kiss him whenever she felt like it—for reasons he had yet to comprehend and process fully—so fervidly without it seeming like there was a storm stirring inside of her, when it was the complete opposite in his case. But he’d kiss her back like it was the first time all over again.
While he felt like a mess, she was acting so… normal, nonchalant. Like, dating him was the least dramatic thing in the world when he put so much thought into every little thing he did. He just wanted it to work. He would do anything to make it work.
Would she?
“It’s too early to be freaking out, Snoozles.”
Toph’s sleepy, groggy voice startled him out of his thoughts as his rhetorical question bounced around a million times over in his head. He hadn’t realized, but his heart was hammering against his chest—it was no wonder she was pointing it out, even as her head was still on his chest.
He chuckled diffidently, smoothing down her hair and having a bit of trouble looking at her. “You just have that effect on me.”
She scoffed, untangling herself from him, to his dismay, and stretching. He watched her back arch, his face warming at the idea of this being a thing he could shamelessly do now, before she rolled back in his direction and propped her head up on her hand. “You’re ridiculous.” She sharply poked his rib, making him twitch. “Have you been up long?”
“Fifteen minutes maybe,” he told her truthfully. Then, he buried his face in her neck. “I was going to get back to sleep for a while longer, but the urge to watch you drool on my chest was too strong.”
As she lifted her arm to wipe at her mouth, she grumbled, “I don’t drool.”
“There’s no need to deny it, Beifong. It's adorable.”
Her face took on a murderous look. “I'll show you fucking adorable.”
“Hey, now—”
She was attacking him before he could finish his plea of defense.
Toph moved quickly to poke, pinch, and prod Sokka in the most unexpected places—wherever he thought she would get him, she did just the opposite, making it entirely impossible for him even to attempt to defend himself. He was a mess of squeals and grunts and pained laughs as she cackled away amid her assault.
During a short moment of vulnerability, or so he thought, when she paused to push her long hair behind her shoulder, Sokka reached for her, and she very quickly disabled him by pinning both his wrists above his head and straddling his hips.
Their laughing died down as their heartbeats settled down.
For a moment, they just stayed like that: him staring into her milky green eyes and her, somehow, doing the same. One hand steadied her against his chest as she straddled his hips, and the other held his jaw—more gently than anyone who didn’t know Toph would expect. Her fingers more so brushed him than held him, and before he knew it, her fingertips were moving over his face.
His eyes fluttered shut as she looked at him in the best way she knew how. Her touch was feather-light as she mapped out his features the way she’d done numerous times—before and since they'd gotten together. He loved it, every time she did it, that she took the time to see him.
Sokka let her have her fun for a few more seconds before he caught her wrist and pulled her down slightly, softly. Their noses brushed. They remained suspended for a beat before their lips met. It was gentle, not exactly exploratory, but new. Still new, yet exorbitantly familiar. It was a feeling that Sokka couldn’t exactly explain, but that he hoped wouldn’t fade anytime soon.
She hummed quietly, pleased, and leaned down just a fraction more, lingering, revisiting, pressing closer until the line between them blurred. He felt it everywhere: the heat of her thighs, the steady pressure at his hips, the way her chest rose and fell just above his as she continued to relax against him.
Sokka’s fingers flexed at her sides as she made another quiet sound against his mouth, and rolled her hips forward just enough that he sucked in a breath. It wasn’t intentional, he knew that. She just wanted to be closer to him, impossibly so, and he understood perfectly.
Spirits.
He slid one hand up her back, slow, deliberate, mapping her spine beneath his palm, despite having it entirely memorized by now. She responded instantly, leaning into the touch, solid and trusting, like she always did when she felt safe.
The idea that she felt safe with him was still a badge of honor, enough to undo him.
Where the room was once cool, it no longer was. Or, at least, he wasn’t. He was hot all over, especially in the spot where his chest and stomach met. Toph always had this effect on him.
Did she know that? Did she know what she did to him? How he felt? How deeply he felt it?
He hoped that if she did, it wouldn’t spook her. That was what he feared.
To his dismay, Toph pulled away with an inhale, a soft smile on his face that did something crazy to his gut. “Why, Snoozles, aren’t you going to make me breakfast first?”
Sokka playfully pushed her off him. “Right, where are my manners?”
“Up your ass, apparently.” She snorted, reaching over to pinch the skin under his arm, making him squeal. Laughing at him, she sat up and stretched her arms out again. “Hey, don’t you have to go home soon?”
He resisted the urge to pout, rubbing the sore spot on his arm. “Are you kicking me out?”
Toph ran a hand down her face in annoyance, though he could tell that she was suppressing a mocking smile. “I wish. I meant home home. For the festival thing?”
“Oh.” He nodded, eyes wide. “Wow. I can’t believe you remembered that.”
She cleared her throat. “Yeah, so are you going?”
“I always go,” he replied. “All the best Water Tribe dishes are within walking distance of each other, the lights, the community... out of all the festivals we put on, the Solstice Festival is probably my favorite.” He paused for a moment, watching her listen to him. She seemed to have been leaning into him the more he spoke, almost an invitation. An idea he’d long suppressed out of sheer fear of her answer crept into his mind. “Can I ask you something?”
“You’re going to ask even if I say no.”
“This is true.” He laughed apprehensively. “Uh—I just wondered if you’d be willing to, uh, come with me?”
“Come with you?”
“Yeah, yes. To the festival,” he clarified. “It’ll be fun! Katara will be there, and I’m sure Aang will be too since he’s been to it the past few years. And since you’ve never been, and now that we’re—I think—would you come?”
Even when they weren’t a thing, Sokka had always tried to get Toph to go. It was a welcome party for the season—food kiosks, games, music you could feel in your chest. She’d always laughed it off, said it wasn’t happening. He’d understood why. He still did. That didn’t stop the disappointment from settling in every time.
He knew Toph well enough to know that pushing too hard was dangerous territory. One wrong move and she’d decide this was proof they weren’t built to last—that the safest thing was to step back before it got worse. He didn’t believe that. Not for a second. If they’d managed to find their way here after all these years, it had to mean something.
And now that they were together—spending nights at each other’s places, Sokka more often at hers—he’d assumed the answer might be different.
So when she tilted her head and squinted an eye to say, “That’s going to be a no from me, Snoozles,” he kind of died.
His stomach shrank to what felt like the size of a walnut. “What? Wh—just an immediate no?”
“It’s not my scene.” She shrugged indifferently. Then, she added, “You won’t miss me. I'll slow you down. Won’t be able to see a thing, either. Not to mention the trip there on a ship. It’ll be miserable.”
“I know you don’t love boats and the cold and the ice and the lack of earth, but it would—I’d really like for you to come.”
Truly laid it on thick for her there.
He wanted to scream.
For a moment, though, he thought that he'd convinced her; that he’d used the right tone and the right words to let her know just how much he needed her there just to have her with him without scaring her off. But the small contemplative look she took on disappeared within an instant before she said, “I’ll pass this time, but you’ll have a great time with your sister and Twinkle Toes, and you’ll barely miss me.”
Something in his chest gave way.
He’d been considering extending the invitation to her for several months now, even a little before they took things to another level. He even knew what her answer might be, but he didn’t expect her not to put any thought into it at all.
Part of him had even thought that she’d say yes, even if it wasn’t what she wanted to do, just for the sake of being together.
“Oh,” he said, because it was the only thing he could find, trying not to sound as broken as he felt. “Yeah. Okay.”
She sat up, nudging his shoulder with her elbow. “Yeah. No big deal.”
No big deal.
Sokka rolled onto his back as she slipped out of bed in search of her robe. Without thinking about it, he pulled it off from where it was hanging on the backboard behind him and handed it to her. He looked at her soft smile as she took it before he turned away in favor of staring at the ceiling, mapping out the night at the festival he’d imagined with her in it—where he’d stand, where he’d guide her, where they’d duck away from the noise when it got too much. He hadn’t even realized he’d been planning around her until there was no reason to anymore.
Sokka loved in acts of service. Quiet ones. If he knew Toph wanted something, he’d bend himself into whatever shape was necessary to give it to her, even if it cost him more than he had to spare. Without thinking—without asking—he’d rearranged his closet back at his place for the handful of times she stayed over. Learned the exact way she swung her legs out of bed every morning without meaning to. The order in which she made her tea and how to place things in drawers to make it easier. How much she hated sweeteners.
None of it felt like effort.
That was the problem.
“When are you supposed to leave?” Her voice broke him out of his thoughts. She was in the bathroom, faucet running. “For home.”
He swallowed thickly, forcing himself to sit and push himself out of bed. Breakfast. He should make breakfast. “Ah, ideally two days from now. Maybe a little earlier if I want to get on a ship without additional stops.”
It was quiet for a little while as he dragged his feet into the kitchen and sifted through the icebox for something he could make. There were eggs in there. Bread in a bag that he noticed upon closing the icebox. Good enough.
“How long will you be there?” she asked, again from the bathroom, voice nonchalant, as if she were counting on his response to plan what she’d be doing while he was away.
“I’m not sure,” he replied, sloppily frying the eggs on medium-high heat. “Few days. Then I guess it'll be the trip back here.”
More silence as he plated their food, then, after what he likely mistook for a moment of hesitation, she slid into a chair at the island, rested her elbows against the surface before catching his wrist as he set her plate down in front of her, and told him, “I hope you have a good time, Meathead.”
His heart squeezed again, and he only nodded as he sat down across from her, pulling his hand away, which felt oddly symbolic at the time.
Some called Sokka’s refusal to step foot on an airship something to get over, but part of him didn’t want to get over it because he had the sea at his disposal. The large ship he was on carried few passengers, and right now, as he stood on its deck after he’d heard the announcement of imminent docking, he was glad to take in the smells of ice and sea salt. The strike of windchill to his face was a welcome distraction, too.
The trip had been hard on him for the last ten days. It wasn’t bumpy or long or nausea-inducing, but all his brain wanted to focus on was Toph. What she could’ve been doing back at home, what her face would look like as the ship cut through the progressively chilling waters as it neared the South Pole, how he would’ve teased the pale green tinge to her skin, but how he would’ve moved so quickly to get her a bucket for her sick or hold her hair back. Thinking about her now only made his chest feel increasingly heavier with each second that passed.
For the two days leading up to this trip, he let her hands explore him like a cartographer mapping a journey over every inch of his skin. Her kisses trailed up his back, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and he returned the favor with equal fervor, if only to keep his thoughts at bay. He left bruises on the parts of her body that clothes would cover, and she would bury half moons into his back with her nails. Neither of them spoke about how he felt that she wasn’t going to come with him, nor about how she wasn’t trying to keep things balanced, nor how much it hurt that this would’ve meant the world to him; there was just sex and words unspoken. It was what they did best, apparently.
Part of him longed for their friendship to have stayed just that, because at least then he would’ve known what she was thinking. Or at least some semblance of it—she was always better at reading him than he was at reading her.
Would she have even come if he’d asked her before they got together? Probably not because she wouldn’t have really had much of a reason to outweigh her discomforts, understandably. But then, was he not enough of a reason now that they were together? It seemed not.
Sokka shut his eyes tightly at the thought, letting the seawater spray him in the face as the ship pulled closer and closer to his homeland—so close that he could see the town square beyond the dock. He couldn’t think that way, could he? Toph was the best of him, a realization that came to him much too late, though he’d known it was true deep down somewhere long before they’d shared their first kiss on her kitchen floor, and he’d subsequently apologized profusely for the same until her lips shut him up like it was her right. (It was.)
Perhaps he was just expecting too much of her. It was a big ask to hope she would grin and bear her discomfort to join him on a trip. Then again, if it'd been she who’d asked, even if he whined about it to no end, he would’ve been right there beside her. But maybe it was time for him to adjust his expectations.
The unnecessarily loud horn blast, signaling the ship’s arrival at the dock, nearly knocked Sokka off the side of the boat, catching him off guard. In the short distance between where he was standing and the dock, he could see his sister laughing at his near-topple. He flashed her his middle finger before picking the weekend bag by his feet up and hanging it over his chest as he followed the short line of people off the ship.
Katara was quick to both reach him and tell him how much of a klutz he was. “I mean, you should’ve let it happen. Like old times. Would’ve made my entire weekend.”
“I don’t like you,” he told her disingenuously, throwing an arm over her shoulder and pulling her into his chest. She tucked her head under his chin and looped her arms around his waist. He had her where he wanted her, giving her a quick noogie.
Her groans were muffled before she bent a batch of snow at the side of his face, causing him to release her. She cackled. “Welcome home, big brother.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sokka said, a soft, genuine smile. “Missed you too.”
The dock bustled with familiar noise—ropes tightening, boots crunching against compact snow, voices layered over each other in a way that felt like childhood. Wind bit at his cheeks, sharp and grounding, not exactly as snappily as on the ship, but still chilly. He inhaled the cold like it might scrub something raw out of him.
Katara stepped back, giving him a once-over the way she always did—scanning for new scars (of which he was proud to report was only one from a baking mishap a week ago while he was trying an egg tart recipe for Toph), tallying fatigue. He’d never been sure whether she meant to. It was just built into her.
“You look tired,” she said, her jovial tone gone, a note of something more in her voice. Something knowing.
He rolled his eyes, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. “You always say that.”
“That’s because you always are.”
He tsked, but it didn’t quite land the way he wanted. She noticed. Of course she noticed. Katara’s expression shifted—still smiling, but gentler, as if she’d caught sight of something fragile under the surface.
“How was the trip?” she asked, leading him toward the path that would take them toward the village. He could tell that she wanted to ask about the camelephant-sized absence in the room, but she was hoping he would speak up first. No chance.
“Long.” True. “Cold.” True. “Boring.” Technically true.
She bumped his shoulder with hers. “Didn’t bring anyone to keep you entertained?”
Somewhere in his head played a scene of Toph moaning about how sick she felt, and him laughing at how it was an automatic thing for her to feel entirely ill on water. Surely, that would’ve kept him entertained.
“Nope,” he replied easily. “Just me and the sea.”
Katara didn’t push. She tucked her arm through his anyway, guiding him as she used to when they were kids, steering him into the flow of snow-packed streets of the square lit with pale, early light. Lanterns hung from posts in preparation for the festival, flickers of warm orange against endless white. Music drifted faintly from somewhere distant—practice runs, probably. Laughter. Life.
He tried not to imagine how it would feel if Toph were beside him right now, muttering about the cold while secretly leaning closer for warmth.
“Where’s Aang?” Sokka asked to fill the quiet, though he was genuinely curious. Not like these two to be apart for long. “Would’ve thought he’d have come with.”
“He’s helping Dad with the festival grounds near the town hall,” Katara answered, nodding her head in the building’s general direction. “There was a whole section iced over, and Aang’s been warming it up so the elders don’t break anything.”
Sokka snorted. “Bet Aang loves the busywork.”
“Oh, he’s over the moon. Dad’s not disappointed either, at having a built-in heating unit for the time being.”
It pleased Sokka that his father got along well with his friends. Despite it being a given for him to like them, considering that they were instrumental in saving the world as they knew it, Hakoda genuinely seemed to like Aang and Toph’s company—and Zuko’s, when they were lucky enough to have him around.
The thought was a nice one; however, all it did was pull Sokka down in his continual spiral. It wasn’t as though Toph didn’t enjoy her time here, amidst her annoyance with her senses. They all kept her distracted enough to get her having fun; Sokka did what he could, and he was convinced it made a difference. And even when there were moments where she would’ve rather have been anywhere else, she stuck around every single time if they needed her.
One of his favorite memories was of Toph trudging across the slick ice outside the village years ago while she was here during the Reconstruction Project, cursing the entire South Pole under her breath while she did it anyway. There’d been a problem with one of the docks—ice shifting beneath the surface, threatening to snap it clean off into the water—and Hakoda had quietly asked if she might be able to “feel” where the weak points were. She hated every second of it; he could still hear her grumbling about frozen toes and pneumonia. But she’d stayed. She’d planted her bare hands to feel whatever scraps of earth she could, concentrated, and helped his father mark every dangerous spot. When it was done, Hakoda had clapped her shoulder and said he owed her more than he could ever repay. She only snorted and told him he paid her in free food and bragging rights.
Naturally, she got both.
Sokka remembered standing there, watching her with her nose red from cold, chin lifted stubbornly like the whole world would have to pry bravery out of her—and realizing she’d come all this way and done something she hated simply because his father asked. He also liked to think that it had something to do with himself, too.
The memory kept Sokka quiet for longer than he would’ve normally been, which clearly set off warning bells in his sister’s head. He felt her hand squeeze his arm, “What’s going on with you?”
He jutted his lip out with a shrug, trying to settle his head. “Nothing. It’s just nice to be home for this. I wouldn’t have missed it.”
For too long, she looked at him, doing as she did and trying to read him. Surely, she noticed that Toph wasn’t with him, and Katara was anything but a fool. It was probably already clear to her that it had all to do with Toph's absence. Now, there was no way she could know exactly what was up, but she must have had her suspicions. He braced himself to dodge her questions.
Katara pleasantly surprised him, though, by letting the matter go entirely. “Okay,” she said. “Then, come on. Dad’s going to pretend he isn’t waiting for you to show up and absolutely fail at it.”
A laugh escaped him before he could stop it. “Yeah. Sounds right.”
They walked on.
Behind his ribs, something stayed heavy. But he kept moving anyway.
Because if he stopped, he was afraid he’d feel just how much space she’d left behind.
On their walk, which was aided by Katara's commentary on the festival preparations, Sokka watched as villagers prepared the areas around the square for the night vigil, when everyone would stay awake until sunrise to symbolize endurance through darkness. It was always a fun time to listen to the sounds of life around him, hang out with his father, who would pretend not to nod off, and Katara trying to keep them awake with any story she could think up. Whenever he was here, Aang was always a lively point to keep folks’ eyes open. Frankly, though, all Sokka wanted to do tonight was sleep.
They turned down the main path into the heart of the village, just as a familiar voice called out: “There you are!”
Aang’s voice always carried a smile, even in the cold. He jogged toward them, hood half-off his head, the ends of his scarf trailing behind him as he’d already forgotten they existed. Hakoda followed at a calmer pace, more composed but unmistakably relieved.
Katara slipped her arm free of Sokka’s so that Hakoda could catch him in one of those chest-crushing hugs that somehow still managed to feel gentle.
“Welcome home, son.”
Sokka tried to keep it light. “I do enjoy breathing, Dad.”
Squeezing him a little harder for just a moment, Hakoda said, “It’s nice to know sometimes that your old man’s still got some strength in his muscles.”
“Comforting that you want to test that on your son’s brittle bones.”
Katara scoffed behind them. “Sokka, you’re not seventy.”
“Either way, you never know.” Sokka stretched as his father released him. “They could snap in a second.”
Aang was grinning. “I’m really glad you’re here. It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages.”
It really did feel that way. It had been about a month and a half since he’d last seen Aang—or Katara, for that matter. Those two were always up to something. If they weren’t traveling for the sake of Avatar duties, they were busy doing something else—usually something older brothers didn’t care to know about. He’d walked in on a lot of that in his lifetime.
“Happy to be here, man.”
The four of them caught up for a bit with more talk about the weekend’s festivities and their goings on. And Sokka tried. He really did. He laughed when he was supposed to. He asked the right questions. He even teased Aang about getting too carried away with fireworks tonight. His mind, however, was on whether Toph had even bothered to send a letter to check in upon arrival (which he presumed wasn't the case since Hakoda didn't mention as much).
The longer they stood there, the more his bones felt hollow.
Hakoda must’ve noticed something—his father always did—but he didn’t pry. He settled a hand briefly on Sokka’s shoulder instead, steady and grounding, before saying, “I'll have dinner ready for after the festival. We'll get together properly then. Catch up. I’ll let you and your sister run off and cause trouble until then.” He grabbed Sokka’s bag, too. “I’ll get this home while you get back.”
Without waiting for his reply, Hakoda said his goodbyes and gestured to Aang to follow. When Sokka turned to look at Katara, she had a frighteningly excited smile on her face.
“What’s with you…?” he asked carefully. “Are you having a stroke?”
Katara huffed in annoyance, her smile falling entirely. “I was going to invite you to do something fun, but you’ve ruined it.”
Intrigued, he squinted. “Fun, how?”
“Hidden Tavern Fun.” The smile was back.
“I’m sorry,” Sokka said, clearly not having heard correctly. “Hidden tavern?”
She nodded. “It’s new, and it’s hidden in a room in the back of the fishing supply shop outside town.”
Naturally, he had to go, so he let his sister drag him a few more minutes to Anauk’s Fishery & More and pushed into the back room without any hesitation. It was dark and lively, and it smelled like rice wine, but he was impressed with the place. Lantern light pooled warm against carved walls. Voices hummed low instead of roaring. A few people looked up, recognized them, and waved before graciously returning to their drinks.
Katara led him to a booth along the back wall, far enough from the chatter to feel private. “Told you it was good,” she said smugly.
“Yeah,” he admitted, sliding into the seat. “Not bad. A little criminal-looking, but that just adds charm.”
She snorted, flagged someone down for warm plum wine, and then—of course—fell quiet. And Katara's quiet wasn’t a comfortable quiet. It wasn’t neutral. It was purposeful. It pressed like a thumb on a bruise, waiting to see if he’d flinch.
He always flinched.
Now, he avoided it for as long as he could, eyes tracking a lantern, then a crack in the table, then nothing at all. His chest still felt too tight. Like breathing with a weight on his ribs.
She finally sighed, elbows on the table, chin in hand. “So,” she said gently, “are you going to tell me why you showed up alone, or am I supposed to pretend I didn’t notice?”
He traced the wood on the table with his nail. “I was hoping for pretending.”
“Yeah,” she said softly. “I know.”
The wine arrived, and so did some peanuts, which he immediately dug into. She didn’t say anything else. She just waited.
It was obvious to him that he was backed into a corner; he had to talk about it, or it would weigh on him for the rest of his time here. On top of that, he would be wondering what Katara would have to say about the matter.
After a while, he exhaled, shoulders sagging. He circled the rim of his cup with his thumb. “We’re… fine,” he started, then grimaced. “We’re fine. Or we were. I don’t know.” He laughed again, brittle. “And then I feel stupid for even thinking it, because it’s Toph. And I know she came a long way. I know she’s tried. But it still—” He paused for a drink, feeling like he needed the coolness down his throat. “Why do I keep doing this?”
“Doing what, big brother?”
“This,” he said, frustratedly. “With her! It's like, she slaps me, and I turn the other cheek for some more slapping.”
Katara’s face took on a look of realization at what he was talking about. Then, she said softly, this pitying look that he could barely tolerate on her face, in her eyes. “You know why. But it’s not something that should make you give up. If anything, it should make you love her harder.”
Sokka scoffed. “Why should I? It’s not like she's open to any of it. She never has been. She’d probably hate harder loving and leave me quicker.”
At this, Katara immediately shook her head in disagreement. “Believe it or not, Toph is capable of fear.”
Momentarily, he felt like an idiot. The concept just wasn’t fitting into his head. Toph being capable of fear. Fear of what? She was one of the most fearless people he knew. He did know what frightened her; he was one of the only people who knew, if not the only one. But, in the context of their relationship, fear made no sense to him. It felt nonsensical; it felt like an equation he put down on paper for a blueprint that wouldn’t match up to the vision in his head.
What could she fear? There was nothing he wanted more than to be with her.
He’d never once given her a reason to doubt him. He’d stayed. Every single time. Through her anger, through her walls, through the way she pretended things didn’t hurt when he could feel it crackling in the air around her like lightning desperate to strike something. He’d done everything short of carving it into stone that he wasn’t going anywhere. If anything, he was the idiot who kept moving closer even when she shoved him back. He kept choosing her. Again. And again. And again.
So what was there to be afraid of?
Commitment? He’d already been committed. Losing him? She treated him like he was disposable anyway. Needing him? Depending on someone didn’t make her weak. Needing him shouldn’t make her weak.
He hated how petulant that sounded in his own head. He hated how small it made him feel.
Toph, afraid. Toph, retreating. Toph, cracking just enough to show him something soft and terrified beneath all that iron, and then slamming it shut before he could get too close. It was like saying ice was hot or the ocean was dry. But Katara wouldn’t have said it unless she believed it. Fear.
Fear of what, though? Fear of vulnerability? Fear of choosing someone and being wrong? Fear of letting him matter so much that losing him would shatter her?
He swallowed. Because if that was it, then spirits, didn’t that mean he already mattered that much? And wasn’t that the most painful part of all—that she might already care deeply, might already love him in ways she’d never say out loud, and still she’d rather run than risk standing still with him? He dragged a hand through his hair, chest tight. The tavern felt small.
If she was afraid… then what was he supposed to do? Keep waiting? Keep letting himself get bruised by loving her? Keep pretending that the ache of almost was enough? And yet, even in that moment, even drowning in frustration and hurt, he knew the worst truth of all: if she turned around tomorrow, if she finally stopped running…
He’d go to her without hesitation.
“You’re very annoying,” Sokka muttered after he’d drunk the rest of his wine in one go and had managed to catch his breath again.
Katara tilted her head and grinned. “And you can be really mean when you’re hurt.”
“I know. I get it from you.”
“Impossible, but in any case, I would get it from you.”
He kicked her under the table, and she retaliated by waterbending a cube of ice at his temple, to which he squealed loudly, drawing the attention of most of the tavern-goers. Sokka gave up then, sinking deeply into his seat and rubbing the sore spot on his head with a pout.
“So,” Katara said, resting her elbows on the table and completely disregarding his pain and embarrassment, “we’re not thinking about Toph not loving us anymore, right?”
Childishly, he murmured, “No.”
“What was that?”
“I said, no,” Sokka grumbled. “Though technically, we aren’t there yet.”
“You can see it from miles that you are there, but certainly, do be glacial in telling her how you feel.”
He sat up quickly and pointed menacingly at her. “I’m not going to scare her off.”
“Something we both know you’re capable of with the sound of your voice alone, but I can’t bully you into this, unfortunately,” she said. “Just know that you’re both there, big brother.”
It should be a shame to say that both Sokka and Katara were a little wobbly when they emerged from the tavern about an hour or two later. They’d overdone it slightly on the wine, but no fear! They had greasy bits of food that helped mitigate a bit of the alcohol consumption. It did not, however, mitigate the whole of it, so they were truly trying to hold each other straight on their way to the family igloo, a fifteen-minute walk away.
The festival lights looked beautiful as the dark began to settle over the square. Bands were starting to play, food was being prepared, and the lanterns were being set out for release into the ocean in memory of deceased loved ones. As he and Katara stumbled past, he spied someone fall off a ladder into the snow, and Sokka nearly wheezed to death, forcing Katara to hold him up while also doing her best not to let either of them fall into the snow themselves.
Somehow, however, the two of them found their way home, where they could smell Hakoda’s stew before they even set foot into the igloo. Laughs were lively from outside, and if his drinks hadn’t tickled him, he would’ve believed that he’d heard a third person in there with his father and Aang.
Katara walked in ahead of him and abruptly stopped, causing Sokka to walk right into her back and nearly making them both fall on their face, with Katara breaking his fall. When he opened his mouth to say this, he noticed the pleasantly shocked look on his sister’s face, and he didn’t have to question it because he saw the source of it himself when his eyes landed on the dining room table.
“Okay,” Aang said. “I’m going to place the rock here, I'm going to bend it out from under the bowls to put it under another, and then she’s going to do her thing.”
Hakoda nodded. “Alright. Let’s see it.”
Toph stood at the table—coat half-off, hair snow-damp, cheeks flushed from the cold—leaning casually on her knuckles. Sokka’s heart did something stupid in his chest, something between a flip and a full-body lurch. He forgot he was tipsy. He forgot how to stand. He forgot everything except the impossible fact that she was here.
Instantly, Aang started moving three bowls in rapid succession, and if Sokka knew what they were up to, Toph would be winning the whole game. It reminded him of their childhood, the war—it all gave him a warped sense of nostalgia.
When the bowl-moving was all finished, Aang spread out his hands. “Where’s the rock?”
“There,” Toph said, pointing at the left-most bowl without hesitation.
Undoubtedly, there it was.
Hakoda guffawed. “That could be of great use.”
“I know, right?” Toph replied. “Once upon a time, your daughter didn’t think so. It saved our skin during the war.”
“Once upon a time?” Katara questioned loudly, speaking for the first time since they arrived. “I still don’t think so. And stop encouraging her, Dad. This will only get her going.”
Hakoda tipped his head slightly, looking, admittedly, intrigued. He caught Sokka’s eye and let his smile widen before directing his gaze back at his daughter. “Like I said, it’s a useful skill to possess, Katara. You can’t blame her for using it at a time of need.”
Katara sighed, disappointed. “Dad—”
“Sweetie, you have to admit that it did help us out at the time,” Aang said helpfully, holding onto Katara’s forearm softly. “She was really good.”
Despite himself, Sokka broke, his snort echoing around the room as he spotted the corner of Toph’s lips twitch, though her following words were directed at Katara. “You’re the only one here who’s whining, Sugar Queen.”
“All of you people.” Katara pointed at everyone in the room. “Are hopeless. Hopeless.”
The room burst out laughing at Katara, though Sokka’s eyes focused on Toph alone, who, along with him, had not joined the chorus of laughter. After his conversation with Katara, all he wanted was to pull her in, tell him everything on his mind, and hope she didn’t ask him to put a sock in it. His chest was warming at the sight of her and her red, chill-bitten cheeks, and the hat he knew she begrudgingly wore along with the snow boots he’d gifted her once. It made his own lips curve.
Meanwhile, Toph, knowing somehow that he was looking at her, gestured to her left, which she likely remembered led to Sokka’s quarters. He watched her stand, using the walls at her sides to guide her, her hat falling off her head and onto the ground. While his family members chatted, he followed.
Before he even stepped fully into the room, her hat in his possession, her hands were already there—searching, intent, urgent in that quiet way of hers. Fingers caught in the fabric at his chest, then slid up toward his neck, anchoring him, tugging him down until his breath mingled with hers.
She missed him by a fraction, her mouth brushing his cheek first, then the corner of his lips. It wasn’t clumsy—Toph was never clumsy—it was just off-center. He could practically feel her frustration at the thin floor, the distance between her and something solid enough to read him. So he tilted his head, a slight smile on his face at her irritation and hands coming up automatically to frame her face, guiding, aligning, easing.
Their mouths found each other properly on the second try.
She exhaled against him like she’d been holding something in since she stood up from the table. He kissed her back with equal softness, letting her feel the smile blooming against her lips. One of her hands slid into his braided hair, fingers curling like she intended to keep him right here, where he was, where she could feel him and be certain.
And despite her smile, he felt like he could burst into tears at any moment, with his throat tightening and his eyes stinging behind his lids as he pulled her impossibly closer. Katara’s earlier words continued to bounce around in his head: Believe it or not, Toph is capable of fear. Fear of losing him. Fear of losing what they had. The very same fears he had, she had, or so he surmised.
He leaned his forehead into hers for a moment when their lips finally stilled, noses brushing. Her breath warmed the space between them. She didn’t say anything. Toph rarely did when she felt big things; she just pressed closer.
There was nothing he wanted more than to get the oil lamp fired up, free her of her layers, and lie with her until the bells chimed signalling the official start of the festival. Still, he forced himself to stay put.
“T.”
“Hm.”
“Do you want to go for a walk?”
She inhaled, eyes shutting tightly before she pulled away. “No, but I’ll go anyway.”
He squinted at her, placing a finger under her chin to get a better look at her. “That was strangely easy.”
“I just figure that the bandage needs ripping,” she shrugged a shoulder, pushing his hand away sportively, “so the sooner the better.”
Sokka nodded once, picked her hat up off where it had once again fallen on the ground, and took her hand after replacing it atop her head, both of them managing to slip out of the igloo unnoticed amid some bickering about the ethics of scamming that still seemed to be going on between Katara, Hakoda, and Aang. The windchill had calmed some, almost as if the universe had agreed with this little outing of theirs, though Toph’s grip on his hand tightened as she tucked closer to him. He switched his hold on her hand for an arm around her shoulders while he pondered where they could settle down for a bit as the sun began to set.
“Remember the little hill I brought you to, maybe the second or third time you came here?” he asked her.
She nodded. “It was the third time I came here for a fix that apparently no one else could do on one of the new buildings. You lured me with the promise of an honest-to-the-spirits boulder.”
It tickled him that she remembered, specifically, what he was talking about. It shouldn’t have shocked or surprised him, and it hadn’t, but it warmed him to his core, the way a coat—or even a fire—could never.
“We’re about a minute’s walk away.”
“Then lead the way, Snoozles.”
On the way, a tea kiosk was being set up, and he stopped quickly to purchase two cups. One of oolong for himself with cream and honey, and a pu-erh for Toph with nothing but an orange peel. She sipped the tea appreciatively as they continued on the path up to the hill.
Toph quickly settled on the lone boulder and let out a long sigh, tea held between both hands. She wasn’t even drinking it right now; just feeling the tea’s heat float out of the cup. He watched her from a distance for a while, his own drink long forgotten. Even after she’d initially refused to come, she was somehow here with him now. Part of him wondered if he’d longed for her enough to hallucinate her presence or if he had been drunker than he’d realized and had fallen into a deep, deep sleep that allowed him to dream her up as realistically and warmly as possible.
But no, she was here. It was more than he’d expected to happen.
When the silence stretched enough between them, he noticed that it was charged with something. Anticipation? Nerves? A mix of both from either one of them? His hands clammed in his mittens as he quickly put together what he planned to say.
“So. You’re here,” is what came out as he sat beside her. He wanted to throw himself off the side of the hill and roll into his misery.
Toph’s smirk wasn’t the one he was used to. It was less enthusiastic, not sarcastic at all, and it didn’t quite overtake her features as it usually did. He would even venture to call it sad. “‘Course I am.”
He couldn’t fathom how this was her response when she was so against coming here in the first place. He said so.
“A girl can change her mind.” She fidgeted. Toph never fidgeted. Then, her sightless eyes angled towards their feet as she put her half-empty cup down. “This meant a lot to you. I’m not entirely an asshole, you know.”
“I see that.”
“Lucky you.”
His smile reappeared, small though it was. “You got on a ship. By yourself.”
“I’m a big girl, believe it or not.”
Her face took on an ill expression for a split second; he could only assume that she was thinking about her trip. He didn’t have it in him to tease her right now, though. “No, I know, but—you didn’t—you came anyway.”
He knew that she knew what he was referring to. A whole journey of gagging and vomiting on her own for a good ten to twelve days for the sake of being with him. Her cheeks reddened, though he was certain that it wasn’t from the cold. “I like getting what I want.”
“And what is it that you want, Beifong?”
He’d trapped her, and she knew it. Although she did do this to herself. Her face reddened slightly more, beyond what the cold was causing. “You know the answer to that.”
That was his way in, he decided. “Maybe I don’t.” Sokka readjusted himself on the rock they sat on. “Why didn’t you come with me? I kept asking you if you wanted to, and you kept repeating how miserable you’d be and how much you didn’t want to be here, but now—I guess I’m just a little confused.”
Toph angled her head away from him and softly shook her head, almost to herself—an action that he likely wouldn’t have seen if he hadn’t been looking at her so intently. Several more beats passed, and he wondered if she planned on leaving the question unanswered, but finally, she muttered, turning towards him again, “I didn’t think you'd care if I came or not, okay?”
“You—come again?”
Toph ran a mittened hand down her face. “I didn’t think you’d care. I just—you’re not a dick. You’d invite anyone anywhere if you felt like you had to, Sokka. You know that.”
“And you think that I—”
“I think that you might’ve been trying to be nice or what you think is a good boyfriend or whatever by inviting me,” she completed for him. “And honestly, I don’t think that you really would’ve cared if I had said no. I didn’t know it would be a big deal if I came with you. I just know I felt like shit as soon as I said no the first time.”
Sokka blinked once, twice, several more times before he found a way to reply to her. There was no way that she thought that he wouldn’t care. He’d thought that he’d shown her time and time again that he did care, so much that he feared embarrassing himself or sticking his foot so far up his mouth that he would mess something up.
“T, just because it took me seventy-five thousand years for it to finally click, doesn’t mean I don’t—” He shook his head, not wanting to tell her what had been on the tip of his tongue since before they got together. “Of course I want you to be here with me. I always want you to be with me if you want to be, but I don’t know if I—I don’t want to be too much. I can be a lot.”
She shook her head, not a hint of humor on her face. “You couldn’t. You’re not.”
Anything that was broken within him mended. “Look, I told you, and I keep telling you that I’m all in. I’m all in. That’s not going to change, no matter how hard you try. You’re not going to shake me.” He paused, thinking. “Unless you really, really want to, which I hope is never the case.”
Her finger started tapping against the side of the rock as she nibbled on her right cheek. Finally, she nodded, very subtly biting the inside of her cheek. “Ditto.”
“Oh. Okay. I give you all that, and I just get ditto.”
“Well, it was just so well-said. I can’t top that.” Her lips twitched slightly before her blind gaze went to her hands. “I wasn't trying to hurt you or anything. I guess I was making sure you know what you're getting into with me.” A huff. “You can be impulsive in relationships, but this isn’t some impulsive decision for me.” She shook her head, still not talking directly to him. “I don't want you to, I don't know, say you’re all in and regret it later because you want it to work out or because you’re a finish-what-you-start type of guy.”
He stared at her. “I don’t want it to work out because I like finishing things,” he said slowly. “I want it to work out because it’s you.”
Her jaw flexed, like she was trying to chew through what he’d just said. He watched it hit, watched it unsettle her. Toph hated being unsettled. Her shoulders stiffened like she was bracing for something to fall on her head. At least the tapping of her finger against the rock stopped.
“You know,” he went on, quietly, “I’ve been plenty impulsive in my life. I’ve gone charging into battles, I’ve made dumb plans, I’ve… yeah, I’ve crashed and burned a couple times. But when it comes to you, I don’t feel impulsive. I feel…” He searched, brow furrowed. “Certain. Like when you look at a map, and there’s only one route that makes any sense.”
She blew out a breath, her mouth twisting. “Yeah? And what happens when the road collapses halfway through?” she muttered. “What happens when you realize I’m—” Her hand jerked vaguely toward herself. “Me. Stubborn. Bad with feelings. Being my friend is one thing, but the additional intimacy or whatever is another. I don’t… do this. At least not long-term. I didn’t grow up doing—I’m… figuring it out as I go, and it sucks.”
His heart clenched.
“Toph,” he said softly.
“No, just—let me say this before I lose it, okay?” she cut in.
He nodded, even though she couldn’t see it, and forced himself to stay still.
She swallowed. “You tell me you’re all in, and I—” She grimaced. “I believe you. That’s the problem. I believe you. I’ve never had something like this to lose before, and I don’t lose anything; I never have. I don't want to start now.”
There it was. The thing she never said aloud. The fear he didn’t think she had.
Sokka’s chest went hot, then painfully tender. “You’re not some project I’m going to get bored with and drop. I didn’t sign up to win something or prove something. I signed up because being with you feels like—” He laughed a little, embarrassed. “Feels like breathing. Complicated breathing, sometimes. Loud breathing. Breathing while someone is punching you in the stomach every other day. But still breathing.”
That got a tiny snort from her. He took it as encouragement.
“I’m not here because I want to prove some point to myself,” he continued. “I’m here because I don’t want to imagine things without you anymore. Coming here without you sucked. It sucked in my bones. I wanted you here because when something matters to me, I want you in it. That’s not an obligation. That’s—it’s how much I care.”
Toph went very, very still. The sporadic tapping of her finger stopped. Her chin dipped slightly, like she was absorbing every vibration of his voice. Then, quietly, raw as newly broken ice, she said, “I thought that if I didn’t come, it’d just be something you shrugged off. I didn’t think it would matter. I didn't—I'm sorry.”
“It's okay,” he told her honestly. “But it matters. You matter this much to me.”
For a long moment, she said nothing. Then she huffed out a shaky breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Spirits, you’re such a sap.”
“Yet you’re still here,” he replied gently, leaning forward and resting his chin on her shoulder. He added, “Who’s the sap now?”
She angled her head towards him; he could just reach her lips. “Still you.”
“I don’t know. I think we can both be saps together. Be a couple of saps.”
“Well, I think—”
It sounded lewd, but he swallowed what she thought because he couldn’t help but close the distance between them, pressing his lips to hers. He really tried to keep himself together while she at least finished her sentence, but he’d missed her so much, and they’d actually talked and gotten somewhere, and he felt less like she might leave him and more like they were really doing this the right way.
After a second, she hummed into his mouth as she melted into the kiss, her hand coming up to the side of his neck as it deepened. Despite the biting cold in the air, he felt warm—an effect that her kisses always had on him.
She tasted like the cold—sharp at first, then softening into something familiarly dizzying. Her fingers curled against the back of his neck, right under the edge of his hood, and he shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the winter air. She kissed like she fought—confident, decisive, but always with that tiny curl of hesitation that told him she was still learning how to let anyone this close.
Sokka eased his other hand up, brushing the back of her coat until his palm settled between her shoulder blades, steadying her. She parted her lips for him a little more, a quiet exhale slipping out that nearly undid every coherent thought he had left. Warmth bloomed out from the center of his chest, pushing back the cold, the doubt, the stupid spiral he’d been drowning in for all of two weeks.
When she finally pulled back, it was only by a breath. Their noses brushed. Her forehead rested lightly against his.
“That was rude,” she murmured. “I’ll have to do something about that later.”
He tilted his head, already leaning in again. “Why leave for later what can be done now, you know?”
Smugly, she pulled back. “Unless you want to miss the start of the festival, I suggest we get going.”
The only reason he didn’t argue was that the starting chimes were already sounding, and he could see people moving towards the square from where they were sitting. As much as he wanted to stick around and frolic with his girlfriend, he really did want her to experience the festival. He knew that, even she who was cold-avoidant, would appreciate perusing the kiosks with him.
“Genuinely don’t like it when you’re right.”
“Too damn bad, Snoozles.” She stood up and offered her hand to him. “Now, why don’t you show me what we came here for?”
Giddily, Sokka came to his feet, took her hand, and pulled her down the hill. “I’m going to show you the heck out of this festival, Beifong.”
The wind was sharper as they returned to the square, and Toph muttered unhappily the entire time whenever the breeze picked up or she tripped on stubborn snow. Sokka tried not to laugh, though he failed several times, earning himself an elbow to the gut twice.
As they entered the festival, there was the rhythmic drumming from the musicians warming up—deep, round beats reverberating through the snow-packed ground. Kids were laughing, boots crunching, and someone was loudly yelling that the fried seal jerky was not burnt this year. Someone else immediately disagreed.
They walked on, Sokka letting her hand trail along the edges of the stands—rough wood, woven netting, the grooves of sealskin lantern strings—so she could feel the layout as they moved. Every so often, she’d stop and run her fingers over something—a carved charm, a braided rope, a basket of smooth stones—several of which he bought her as a gift. She pocketed them with a small smile.
He told her about everything. Every little detail. Every shade and shine.
By the time they looped back toward the center of the square, her cheeks were further flushed from the cold and the warmth of the food they'd enjoyed, her hair dusted lightly with snowflakes she didn’t bother brushing away, even though she'd moaned earlier about them “assaulting” her.
“There,” he said, spotting familiar silhouettes near the communal fire. “They’re over by the stew pot.”
Toph squeezed his hand once before letting go, straightening herself, shoulders squared like she was walking into a fight—but her mouth was soft, not smug, and her steps angled a little closer to him than strictly necessary.
It made him smile.
When they approached, Aang turned first, beaming, and Hakoda’s expression warmed into something that made Sokka’s chest feel full in a way the cold couldn’t touch. Katara was the first to actually speak, though.
“How's the snow treating you?” she teased lightly.
Toph smirked. “Decently. Someone had to keep your brother from walking into a snowbank, so I had no choice but to come along.”
“He does do that. It happens more often than one might think.”
Aang chuckled. “It’s happened in front of me before.”
“I’m sure it would’ve happened if you hadn’t been there to meet him at the dock, Katara,” Hakoda added unhelpfully.
“Okay, wow, thanks, guys.” Sokka scoffed. “Really feeling the love.”
“If you’re done pouting, big brother,” Katara said amid the group’s scattered laughs, “we were just going to send Aang to grab a couple of lanterns for Mom and his people. We figured we’d grab a good spot by the water in the meantime.” She turned to Toph and added, “We brought extra blankets.”
Toph shivered subtly. “Oh, joy. Life-savers, you are.”
At this, Hakoda laughed heartily, then reached out to pat Toph’s shoulder. “Why don’t you kids go take your seats, and I’ll grab the lanterns and refreshments?"
Without much more pause, Katara, Aang, Sokka, and Toph went off to the shore several paces away and took their seats on fluffy blankets. Toph curled into herself for a moment for warmth before Sokka chuckled and pulled her into him, letting her settle in the V of his legs. They were quiet for a moment, listening to the chatter around them, and Katara and Aang giggled to one another about something or another as they waited for Hakoda, who was already approaching them, to bring what they needed. Sokka felt Toph snuggle in closer, and he leaned down to press a kiss to her head.
“T?”
“Meathead.”
“You know you’re my best friend, right?”
She visibly suppressed a smile as she rested her head on his chest. Some people had already started lighting their lanterns, bringing new life to the area. “I know. Ditto.”
“I’m going to stick that ditto where the sun doesn’t shine.”
As soon as it left his mouth, he knew immediately what she was going to spin it into, so her response didn’t surprise him.
“Oh.” Toph cackled, her head nearly rolling off where she rested it. “I’m not into that. Good to know you are, though.”
“I hate you.”
“Sure you do, Snoozles.”
He was about to comment when a soft orange glow brushed across the snow, and he watched it grow. Then another. And another. People continued to light them with reverence, cupping flames against the wind, the soft, windchime-like clanking of their frames filling the air. The light wasn’t harsh—it was warm and alive, flickering like tiny hearts in the dark.
He watched Aang light their two lanterns, and Sokka closed his eyes, thinking about his mother, about those they’ve lost throughout the years, right before Katara took them and set them afloat. The shore transformed, shifting from soft blue twilight to a field of pulsing gold. Shadows stretched and swayed across faces, and even the steady dark sea seemed to glow as reflections shimmered across the ice.
Sokka felt Toph still slightly against him, not seeing the light but responding to the way the world around them changed—the heat of nearby flames, the sudden hush that overtook the crowd, the way every sound seemed to grow softer, more reverent. She pulled a mitten off her hand, did the same to him, and laced their fingers.
I love you. I love you. I love you, his head repeated like a chant. It wasn’t the time. But after today, she knew it.
He knew, too.