Author's Notes: I was browsing the Avatar fanfiction and ran across one with Aang and Toph dancing. A lightbulb clicked on. A simple little oneshot was born. And here we are!

So, I am officially out of school, and this is my first out-of-school post. Yay! I'm just excited to have the time to read and write again. I've been sadly lacking in that for a while now. And it's beautiful out right now, so I think I'm gonna grab a book and read. Yay for summer vacation!

Review, please!

Alisa

Just Him and Her

Dance

He's smiling and she's smiling and they're twirling through the air, weaving in and out of people like it's nothing. If he listens carefully, he can even hear her light laughter from across the floor as she's twisted and turned and lifted as they move together. He's never taken her as much of a dancer, what with the circumstances and everything, but now that he's watching her move around the floor with such grace, he can't help but wonder what it would be like if they danced together.

She gives a delighted laugh as her partner spins her past him; his hand clenches the delicate hand in his, but his partner says nothing as they sway stoically to the light, cheery waltz.

They're moving more quickly now, traveling across the floor with ease as they pass couple after couple. Her smile is wide and enchanting, and he can't seem to take his eyes off her, nor the frown off his face. He can't help but notice that their bodies are drawing closer and closer the longer they dance. It seems as though the waltz has been going on forever.

His eyes follow the curve of her neck as she throws her head back and he hasn't even seemed to notice that he's stopped dancing. His partner tries to catch his eye, but she can't—she follows his gaze and tuts. She pulls her dark hand from his and places it on her hip.

"If you want to dance with her so much, why don't you just ask her?"

He jumps at the sound of her voice, then narrows his eyes. "I don't want to dance with her."

She clicks her tongue in disbelief. "So you've been watching them dance all evening for no reason whatsoever?"

He points a finger at her and insists, "I have not been watching them, I'll have you know!"

She shakes her head. "If you say so."

"I just—don't like them dancing like that, that's all."

Her lips turn up in a half-smile. "Like what?"

He throws his hands around in a vague gesture and says, "You know, all... friendly like that."

"Then why'd you have them dance together in the first place?" she questions.

He gives her a frank look. "Because I don't want him dancing like that with you."

Frowning, she gives his arm a light slap. "If I want to dance like that with him, I will. You're certainly not going to stop me."

He folds his arms across his chest and gives her that frank look again. She frowns in return.

"Well," she says, turning from him, "if you're not going to dance with me, then I think I may need to cut in."

Before he even has a chance to protest and pull her in to dance, she's already disappeared among the twirling couples to where they are dancing. His lips tug down and his brow furrows. He's just about to walk off the dance floor when he sees them steak past him in a blur of sunrise colors. She's smirking at him, he can tell, and then she laughs as she spins through the air. He wants to march up and pull them apart, but then he hears his name.

"Sokka!"

She's at his side in an instant—how, he doesn't know—pink in the cheeks and slightly out of breath and that smile never leaving her face.

"Did you see me and Aang?" she asks, sounding delighted. "He's a really good dancer. You should try dancing with him."

She laughs a light, airy laugh that makes him want to laugh, too.

"You think he's that great?" he asks, just knowing that he's getting himself into a mess. "I bet I'm a better dancer."

She turns her face up to his, her smile morphing into a smirk that he knows means trouble. "You really think so?" she says, moving closer. "I felt you dancing with Katara over here, and you're nothing special."

He takes her hand and tugs her closer. "I guess we'll just have to find out how good I really am."

She laces her fingers with his and places the other hand on his shoulder—she has a hard time reaching. She smirks up at him.

"I guess we will, now won't we?"

They're on the dance floor in the blink of an eye, twirling and twisting and turning. Her laughter fills the air, and he knows that it was never really a contest.

He may not be the better dancer, but he's certainly won.