Author's Notes: This little ficlet was written for PrincessSketchy over at livejournal as a Christmas present! With her permission I'm posting it here.

I'd also just like to thank everyone for their wonderful reviews for the last chapter. It really means a lot to mean to read what you guys think! Hopefully you'll all enjoy this oneshot just as much as the last one.

Alisa

Three Times Sokka Saw Toph in a Dress (and One Time He Didn't)

1.

"Earth!"

"Fire! Gah!"

Sokka accepted defeat and tried not to wince as Aang flicked him firmly on the forehead with a finger.

The sound of a door opening interrupted their game and he turned to glare at the intrusion.

Instead, he blinked.

Toph was the Blind Bandit. Toph was a tomboy. Toph was dirty and uncultured and slept under a rock tent and was fit for rough-and-tumble play in the dirt with the boys.

This Toph, the Toph in front of him, the Toph wrapped in silks and adorned with a headdress and colored with makeup, the Toph who looked impossibly long and elegant, this Toph was not the Toph he knew. The Toph he knew was not girly and coy, not like this Toph. His Toph didn't have earrings or clean nails or hips.

He eyed this new Toph again and came to a stunning conclusion, one he didn't let show: Toph was a girl.

2.

The warm summer air ruffled his hair as he waited for his makeshift family to appear. The coronation of Firelord Zuko started in half an hour, and although he wouldn't mind arriving late, he knew for a fact that Katara—and Aang, by association—would. Toph wouldn't; he knew that too.

Then (thank the Spirits it's about time!) he heard the door slide shut behind him and the gentle sound of feet padding bare on the earth.

"Hey, Toph," he said, not bothering to turn around to greet her, knowing she would've done the same for him.

"But she's blind," a patronizing voice reminded him, and Sokka nearly jumped out of his skin. The few times Katara's voice spoke in his head always startled him; not because it was a shock to hear her, but because she influenced him enough to get a small voice in his mind and he wasn't sure he liked that.

"It's polite to address people to their faces," Katara's voice chided, and his body seemed to work of its own accord as he circled on the spot.

And then—it didn't matter that he hadn't wanted to move, or that greeting her again was stupid, or that Katara was talking in his head. All that mattered at the moment, he knew both consciously and subconsciously, was to slow his heart rate down.

She looked so unreal, covered in crimson silks and shouldn't-have-been-so-surprising curves. Her long black hair done up with little buns on the sides of her head, with the rest falling down her back in a smooth wave. For (not the) first time, he realized it wasn't her bulky clothes that caused the small bumps under her shirt.

She looked so—so… so pretty.

Her hands went to her hips, as if she knew exactly what was running through his head (uh… nothing?), and then he noticed something else, something extraordinary.

"Toph, are you… are you blushing?"

3.

He bit his lip and shook his head. He shouldn't have been so nervous for a wedding that wasn't his, but he couldn't help himself.

"Help me out with this, would you?" a voice cut through his nerves. "I can't get this stupid thing buttoned. I think Katara picked out this design just to spite me."

Toph appeared from behind the paper wall that divided the room, her petite body forced into the most hideous dress Sokka had ever laid eyes on. He choked back the snort of laughter that had been building up in his throat and managed to instead force out the relatively truthful, "You look nice."

She looked nice; the dress was another story.

"Don't lie," she snapped back, scowling. She looked as if she would have very much liked to punch him, but wasn't able to because both of her hands were occupied with the task of holding her dress up. She settled for stomping on his toes.

"Now help me out," she demanded, planting herself in front of him, pulling the sliding silk back into place.

His eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of the buttons that lined the back of her dress. It looked like hundreds.

"Stop gawking and get to work!" she barked.

He sighed resignedly and began with the buttons at the small of her back.

His fingers were already sore before he was anywhere near done. "Why am I doing this again?" he grumbled moodily. "Don't you have a room full of women who can do this?"

"Yeah," she responded, picking at what looked like clean nails. "But I'm just not comfortable changing with a bunch of girly girls."

He snorted. "But you're more comfortable changing with me in the room?"

Her shoulder blades rose up and down in a captivating movement. It was funny how that worked, how she could be captivating (and in such strange ways!) at one moment, and the next, she could crop her hair and pass for a boy.

His fingers lingered a little longer than necessary over the last buttons.

"You know, you really do look nice," he mumbled to her neck.

She couldn't say anything because it wasn't a lie.

& One Time He Didn't

"You know," he murmured, his voice husky, "I think I like you better like this."

"What?" she asked. "Naked?" Her chin bounced on his chest with each word and her fingers lazily traced the line of his shoulders.

His chuckle rumbled through her until she was giggling along.

Her bridesmaid dress lay in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed; the floor was strewn with buttons.