Something conflicted with the final strains of Ravel's Bolero in Toph's headset. She pushed it aside.
"–with us tonight?" Katara was saying.
"What?" she shouted back.
Katara poked her head into the room. "I said, you've been holed up in here all day today and probably all day yesterday too. Are you going to come out with us tonight?"
"Ugh," said Toph. "Where are you going?"
"Aang has free passes to the movies. Have you even eaten today?"
Toph wrinkled her nose. "Yes, mom. I've got my own fridge and microwave in here." Some popcorn and a shitty movie wouldn't hurt, though. She had definitely been playing too long; playing kept her from thinking too hard about anything but music. "But I am pretty hungry right now. Okay, fine. Free movies sound good." She put aside her violin and headset, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and–ow.
She smirked. He was right. It is pretty hard to walk.
"What's so funny?" asked Katara.
"Nothing. I should get up and stretch more." She did now, and was rewarded with a crack from her spine. "Let's go."
—
"I can't believe I didn't check the expiration date," Aang whined.
"Me neither," Katara said dryly.
"Who even goes to the movies anymore?" Toph asked, swinging her cane back and forth and half-step ahead of them. "How are they still in business? There's no way most people can afford a sixteen dollar ticket around here. We're right next to the community college; it's poor-student-ville."
"We're next to the university, too, so maybe people with rich parents?" Aang suggested. "I–I mean–who still talk to them?"
Toph could hear Katara elbow him for saying something so insensitive..
"Look, why don't we just go to the Jasmine Dragon? It's just around the corner," Katara finally said. "At least the night won't be a total waste."
Shit, shit, shit. "You guys go ahead. I think I should go home."
"Why? Are you feeling okay?" Katara was definitely frowning.
"Yeah, I'm just not…" Shit, she'd said she was hungry at home, she couldn't deny it now. Her stomach had been growling the whole time they'd been out. "…never mind. Let's go."
It had been a brief thing. Spur of the moment. Two adults having a one night stand. There was no reason for it to be awkward, right?
—
They sat down at their usual table, and Toph stumbled on the way.
"You okay?" asked Katara.
"Yeah." She never stumbled, ever. She sat down in her usual chair and folded her cane in her lap.
She heard footsteps in the kitchen; heard them round the corner, heard them falter then continue up to the table. "Hey, guys. My uncle is gonna be busy for a couple of minutes, so may I get you started?"
The tension at the table was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Toph could feel Aang and Katara look at each other, confused, before Katara answered. "Um, yeah. Beef bowls and Iroh's choice of tea, I guess?"
"Sure," said Zuko. "And an extra water for you, Toph?"
"Yeah," she said. "Thanks."
He left, and there was a brief moment of suspense.
"Well, that's different," said Katara, quiet.
"I knew he was a nice guy!" Aang whispered. "See how nice he is?"
Toph decided not to join in their observations. If she did, she might laugh or tell them all he needed was a good lay or just walk away and not come back.
"What was wrong with his face, though?" Katara went on. "Did you see that? It was all red below his scar."
"He has a scar?" That was news.
"Yeah, it looks like a burn around his eye," said Katara. "And it almost looks like he's got a bruise below it today. Did he get mugged or something? Why would that make him happy?"
Aw, shit. "What side is the scar on?"
"Um, his left. Why?"
"Just curious." Toph was right handed, and she'd been facing him when...shit.
"Maybe they stole something he hated," said Aang.
"Why would he carry around something he hated? That makes no sense, sweetie."
"I don't know, Katara! I was just thinking," Aang sighed. "Whatever happened, I'm glad he's feeling better."
"You're so nice, even to jerks." There was a disgusting smacking noise. Great, that was all she needed: Katara and Aang were at it again.
Toph rested her elbows on the table and began to massage her temples. She hated being the third wheel while Sokka and Suki were visiting her parents for the weekend, but at least it was keeping them from speculating about the waiter. It was difficult to imagine they'd figure it out–but that depended on Zuko, didn't it? What if he said something?
She felt ill.
"Guys, I'm going to take a walk, just around the building. Try not to suck each others' faces off while I'm gone," she said.
She could feel Katara's surprise before she heard it in her voice. "Okay, Toph. Be careful."
—
"You're in a good mood," said Iroh.
Zuko shrugged and added more sauce to the pan of beef he was cooking.
"I haven't seen you in a good mood in years," his uncle went on, elbowing him. "Is it a girl? Your face is red."
"My face is red because I'm leaning over a stove," Zuko half-lied. The stove was certainly part of it.
"You didn't answer the question."
And he never had to; there was a knock at the open back door.
"Please tell me this is the Jasmine Dragon and I didn't miscount my steps," said Toph, her cane sweeping from side to side.
"You're in the right place," Iroh said, massively amused. His bushy white brows were sky high as he looked his blushing nephew straight in the guilty eyes.
Zuko looked away fast. "What do you need?" he asked Toph, not unkindly.
"I need to chat with you, if you have a second." She jerked her head towards the back alley. "About my friends."
Zuko told so many half-lies that he knew one when he heard it. "Uh, yeah. Sure." He dried his hands on his apron and looked at his uncle again.
"I'll finish this," Iroh nodded, taking over at the stove.
Zuko brushed past him–there wasn't very much room in the kitchen, and his uncle had an ample build–and into the cool darkness outside. There was a broken bench against the wall of the movie theater, and while it was almost completely entrenched in darkness, it was also secluded. Most of the other shops in their strip mall were closed for the night, and the bench wouldn't be within earshot or sight of anyone.
And darkness wouldn't bother Toph, would it? He heard her cane sweeping back and forth a step behind him, skating over uneven pavement.
"Over here," he said, sitting down. In the dim light of a half-moon, he could see her fingers brush against the seat of the bench before she sat. It was so subtle, he could have missed it; she moved with a natural, fluid grace, the little precautions she took to account for her lack of eyesight blending into every gesture until they were almost invisible. With a start, he realized she must have been blind for years, possibly her whole life.
"So what's up?" he asked.
"Stop acting weird in front of my friends," she said, pointing directly at his face. Well, she was slightly to the left, but it was pretty close.
"I wasn't acting weird!"
"You were polite," she hissed. "That's really fucking weird for you."
"Well, sorry," he growled back. "Sorry that I can't feel resentful towards you anymore."
"You can't feel rese–what the fuck is wrong with you? I practically gave you a black eye. Be angry."
He couldn't be angry when he'd enjoyed it so much. But he also couldn't say that. It was too weird.
"Are you listening?" She gave him a sharp shove. "I asked what's wrong with you!"
He took a deep breath. "Look, I had a great time the other night." He ran his hands through his hair. It would have been a better way to relieve some of his stress if his hair was still in that trendy, shaggy cut he'd had when he was younger, but he'd shaved his head when he moved out here to the desert to stay with Iroh, and it had only grown back a little. "An amazing time. And I can't hate anyone who makes music like you do."
It was her turn to fall completely silent, her blank green gaze locked somewhere on his chest.
"I can try to be rude if you want," he went on, "but I'm not a great actor. And, you know, I think it'd be great to, uh, to go out with you sometime."
"Woah, woah, woah," she said, raising her hands between them, as if to ward him off. "Look, I don't do the relationship thing, buddy."
"Oh." He tried to puzzle out what the hell that meant for them. "So…last night was a one-time thing?"
She shrugged. "You were a pretty good lay. We can fuck sometimes if you want."
He swallowed against the lump that was suddenly in his throat, making breathing hard and stinging his eyes. "I…um…"
"Alright, then. So act normal in front of my friends." She lightly punched his shoulder, clicking her tongue in time with the contact, shook out her cane, and walked back towards the restaurant.
Zuko watched her go. Her stride was confident, and there hadn't been any doubt in her tone or in the shine of her startling green eyes in the starlight, not even a little.
It would be wrong to ask her for a relationship if she didn't want it, but he was old enough to know the melodramatic quirks of his own heart. It wouldn't thrive on meaningless sex.
The only other option was to avoid her completely, but he knew it would suffer if he did that, too. He hadn't been musical for so long; he hadn't felt like it since he was a kid, since his family was whole (and his face unmarred). But he didn't think she'd care if he explained that listening to her had made him want to sing again.
(She certainly wouldn't understand if he explained that her slapping and berating him and demanding his body had been cathartic, flushing guilt and anger out of his system that had been festering for years. Nor would she understand that he'd felt like garbage when she slammed the door in his face, utterly worthless, nothing but trash.)
Then he'd keep listening to her play, he decided, and maybe someday he could thank her. A person like Toph was worth knowing, romantically or not.
He shuffled back towards the kitchen.
—
Toph was disgusted.
She'd slept with him for several reasons. Primarily boredom and horniness, of course, but there had been other things. She liked the sound of his voice when he snapped at his uncle in the kitchen. She liked how surly he was to the tea shop's patrons. But most of all, she liked that he didn't treat her with pity; he hated her as much as he hated any customer. And oh, he had lived up to her wildest expectations on that count; it had been perfect, exactly what she needed.
Until he'd asked her on the classic guilt date. It was worse than "I slept with you so I should pretend to care for a day," because there was also an undercurrent of "what kind of guy has a one-night stand with a blind girl? I'm better than that," and it infuriated her.
Well, fuck him. She wasn't on this planet to soothe his delicate man-baby feelings, and she was no one's charity case. She'd enjoy life on her own terms.