Author's Note: Since I've been keeping everyone waiting on the conclusion of my Toko drabble series, and the reveal of the full-length adaptation, I decided I'd drop this modern AU Toko story on you guys. Written by request. Please enjoy! Don't forget to favorite and review!

It's always so muggy and hot in the back of the back of this god-forsaken store. The fan is on full-blast, and the tiny window by the ceiling is cracked open, but it hardly does any good. For weeks Zuko has worked out on the floor where the AC maintains a comfortable environment, but as of a few days ago, he's been demoted. Demoted to what? Who knows. "Work in the back," the manager had ordered. "You're driving away customers, and quite frankly, you're scaring people. Hell, I'd fire you if it weren't for the fact that your father would kill me if I did."

The thing is, there's not much to do "in the back," besides swat flies and stick labels on CDs. So that's how Zuko's been spending his days; begrudgingly smushing insects, and slapping crooked "Half Off" stickers onto used merchandise.

"Hey kid, get out here!" The manager calls from behind the desk, and Zuko is already rolling his eyes.

His reply is indignant. "I thought you wanted me to work in the back."

"Fix your little attitude problem, and get out here!"

"You sure about that? Wouldn't want to frighten any small children with my face. Maybe I should just stay back here where I won't cause any heart attacks." Then he mutters under his breath, "Fucking jackass."

"Look," the manager stalks over to his table and shoves aside the pile of CDs he's been working on, "there's some girl out there making a scene because she's refusing to be helped by anyone but you. So quit the bullshit attitude, and get out there."

"Fine." Zuko nearly knocks his chair over when he stands, and as he approaches the desk he's ready to snap at whoever this girl is, but when he sees her, he stops in his tracks and smiles. "Toph!"

Toph has been a frequent customer ever since the store opened a few months back. Typically, Zuko isn't too keen on helping customers - he's terse with them, easily exasperated, and he can't stand the way they stare at him like they've never seen a scar before. But, on account of Toph's blindness, he's always been happy to help her. Just last month he picked out a new pair of Bose headphones for her, and every time she came afterwards, she wouldn't quit mentioning how much she was enjoying them.

Toph is grinning from ear-to-ear in his direction - that cocky, lighthearted smile that looks so out of place on such a tiny young woman. "Your boss is real charming, huh?"

"Yeah," he says, coming out from behind the desk. "That's one way of putting it."

"Is he always that rude?"

"Usually."

"And are you always that pissy?" She's holding back a sputtering laugh, and Zuko is glaring good-naturedly.

"Can I help you with anything? Or did you just come here to give me a hard time?"

"Both, actually," she says, leaning her cane against the wall to dig around in her messenger bag. "You let me borrow these a while ago and I kept forgetting to give them back. Sorry if I got the labels mixed up." She hands him two CDs - Jonny Lives!, and Jimmie's Chicken Shack.

"Oh, right. I forgot about those. Did you like them?" Zuko is willing himself not to blush (not that it would matter with Toph.)

"Yeah, that was some good stuff. So, what was all that about your face?"

"Huh?" He raises an eyebrow.

"You said, 'wouldn't want to frighten any small children with my face.' What, are you ugly or something?"

His ever-reddening cheekbones grow hot. "What?"

Toph shrugs, uncaring. "Hey, it's not like it matters to me or anything. I'm just curious. So what's the deal? You look like Quasimodo?"

Somehow, Toph's inclination for bluntness was something Zuko had always enjoyed about chatting with her, but right now, not so much. "Jesus, no, I-...well yeah, but… it's just a scar, okay? Nothing extraordinary about a scar."

"You know what they say about scars, though. Each one has a story."

"Yeah," he mutters bitterly. "Don't I know it."

"So, uh… when do you get off work?"

This is it. This is the question that Zuko has been simultaneously yearning for and dreading.

"Um… I have to close up shop in an hour. Why?"

"Well," Toph says, angling her head away from him, "my curfew isn't until nine or ten, and every time I come here we always have to cut our conversations short, so I just thought maybe…"

It takes him a while to realize she's waiting for him to respond. "Oh! Uh… yeah, yeah, maybe."

"'Cause I mean, I dunno, you seem cool, and I am cool…"

Zuko manages an awkward laugh. "Yeah…"

"So…" She's dragging the toe of her shoe across the carpet in slow, shy arcs, and Zuko is thankful that she can't see the ridiculous way he's smiling at her. He thinks he must look like such a dork.

"So…"

"See you… in an hour?"

"Sounds, uh, great. Yeah."

"Cool."

"Cool."

…

The store is dim and empty, and Zuko and Toph are sitting on the floor, surrounded by piles and piles of CDs and empty cases. They've gone through dozens of albums, blasting them over the intercom and making fun of pretentious indie bands, vapid pop artists, and overrated rockstars. They've bellowed out the entirety of Bohemian Rhapsody at the tops of their lungs, complete with air-guitar solos. Neither of them can remember having this much fun with anyone, and by the time they catch a breath from so much laughter, every CD in the aisle is on the floor.

"Man," Toph says, nudging aside an empty pizza box with her foot, "we really made a mess, huh?"

Zuko glances around at all the plastic cases and cover slips and CDs, the two bottles of soda, the crumbs that litter the carpet all around them, plus the one giant hot-sauce stain that they tried and failed at sopping up with napkins. "...Nah, it's not that bad."

Toph is giggling, but she says, "Maybe we should clean up."

"Uh-uh. Fuck this place. Besides. There's no way we could fix all this before opening tomorrow."

"Wait. What time is it?"

"Three-thirtyish," he tells her after taking a look at his watch.

"In the morning?"

"Yeah, that three-thirtyish."

So she laughs an exhausted laugh, shivering a little from the chill. "Damn. Doesn't feel like it's been that long. Don't you have to be up in the morning?"

"Yeah." He's hardly concerned as he maneuvers to pull her backward against his chest. He's got an arm and a leg on either side of her now, and he drapes his hoodie over them like a blanket. "Better?"

For a little while, Toph is quiet. His voice had been so close to her ear, soft and low, and she waits for her heart to stop doing backflips before she answers. "...Much better. I bet you get a lot of girls with this trick, huh?"

Zuko stifles a snicker. "Trick?"

"Yeah. You sit her down in the coldest part of a room," she points upward, indicating the vent that's blasting icy air down on them, "wait for her to start shivering, and then bam, you swoop in all smooth, wrap your arms around her all nice and warm, and hold her against your glorious abs of steel."

"My what?"

"Don't change the subject!" She laughs, digging her elbow into his ribs.

"It's not a trick," he squirms away from her elbow and pulls her in more firmly. "And my abs aren't that great."

"Ah, see, but you didn't deny that you get a lot of girls."

His lips are almost touching her ear, now, as he says, "Did I get you?"

The truth is that he got her months ago with his rough voice and his aloof countenance and his deceptively sweet disposition, but her ego is far too massive to let him know just yet. So after feigning a sultry laugh and angling her face slightly more toward his, she blurts out, "You wish! You don't even know me."

Zuko is no stranger to flirting, but with Toph he's never been able to distinguish what might be flirtation from what's probably just her natural propensity for cleverness. "Sure I do," he says, picking up one of the CDs they'd listened to. "You like Sublime. You're chill and you like to have a good time. You don't give much of a shit about what people think of you. But," he reaches for another one, "you've got strong political opinions, too. Rage Against the Machine, System of a Down, that sort of thing. And yet…" he pauses to reach for her iPod where it lies underneath some napkins, "you listen to more Vienna Teng and Shannon Wright and their ilk than anything else. You're not completely crass and thoughtless and bold, like you like people to think. You've got a romantic side, as much as you like to hide it."

Toph has been chuckling throughout his whole assessment, huffing and puffing to make sure he knows how ridiculous she thinks he's being. "That's pretty good, Sigmund. Especially coming from a guy who makes sure to blast Slipknot on his headphones loud enough for everyone to hear how badass he is, and then pretends like he doesn't go home and listen to classical music every night. You're a big softy, and you know it."

"...How'd you know I listen to classical music?" He's less offended that she's just called him a 'softy,' and more bothered by the fact that his secret is out.

"I guessed." She's lying, though - she's overheard the tell-tale sounds of strings and woodwinds turned way down low through his headphones plenty of times, but for now, at least, she'll keep letting him think no one else knows. "We can listen to some now, if you want."

Without saying a word Zuko gets up for a moment, and Toph can hear him rummaging around two aisles over before he goes to load a CD into the com. The music starts before he returns; the rich, melancholy sound of a violin's lower register, soon joined by other stringed instruments in a serene, mellow key.

When Zuko joins Toph again, he's much less subtle about the way he gathers her body up against his, and she's much less discreet about the way his warmth and strength and his hair tickling her shoulder makes her swoon. This close to him, she can smell sweat and cologne and soap, and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke. With a contented sigh, she says, "This is nice." Then suddenly, correcting her tone back to it's customary lightness, "I mean, the music. This is nice music. What is it?"

"It's Debussy. The third movement of his string quartet."

"Debussy?"

"Yeah. A dead French guy. He was a pretty big deal in the impressionist era."

"Huh…" She's torn between being serenaded by the music, and being allured by the feeling of Zuko's chest rising and falling against her shoulder blades. "What got you into this kind of stuff, anyways? Doesn't seem like your thing."

Smiling a little, he says, "My mom had me grow up listening to it. Debussy was her favorite. She was a pianist…" Then he begins to laugh. "She tried to teach me, but I was terrible."

"She was a pianist… did she…" Toph doesn't know if it's bad form to ask, but she does it anyways. "Did she die?"

Zuko is quiet during the darkest chords of the piece before answering. "She disappeared."

"Whoa. Like, went missing?"

"Yeah." His body seems to soften at the somber memory. "I was eleven. I woke up one morning and she was just... gone. Nobody knows for sure what happened to her."

Toph turns a little to face him. "What do you think happened?"

"I know she would have never left my sister and me alone with our father unless something horrible happened to her. Honestly, I think she's dead."

"So, your dad… not a great guy, huh?"

"Sometimes I think he's the one who killed her." It's been so long since Zuko has told this story that he almost forgot how terrifying it all is. Toph's speechlessness leaves him feeling empty. "My dad… my dad is one of the most powerful businessmen in the world. If there's anybody who could get away with murder, it's him. I just don't understand how he could hate my mother enough to…" Then he sighs, shaking his head. "Nevermind. I don't know why I'm telling you any of this. We were having a good time and I ruined the mood. Sorry."

"No, it's okay," Toph insists, "I, uh, I appreciate that you told me. In a way, I kind of understand. I know what it's like to wake up and find that something that means a lot to you is gone."

"What do you mean?"

She hesitates before answering, "...I wasn't always blind, you know. When I was a baby, I could see just fine. I think I was three when everything started fading away. It was really gradual, but doctors kept telling my parents that I'd be completely blind someday. And instead of taking me out to see the world before it was too late, they kept me at home." A bitter laugh escapes her. "The called themselves protecting me. I used to cry all night because I was scared that when I woke up the next morning, I wouldn't be able to see anything at all. And then one day, it finally happened. I realized I couldn't see the light from my window anymore, and, well, that was it."

The two of them share a moment of downcast silence, sighing in unison with the weight of their losses. Toph thinks that losing her sight can't compare to losing a parent, but Zuko thinks that losing the sun and the sky and the oceans and the faces of loved ones is the most devastating thing he's ever imagined. He finally says, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she shrugs it off, having regained her nonchalant composure. "I mean, I can still see some things sometimes. If the light is just right, and I hold something close enough to my face, sometimes I can see colors."

"How close does it have to be?" At first when he asks, it's only out of curiosity.

"Really close."

So he leans down a little. "Like this?"

"Not quite." She's smiling as she turns to face him fully, stretching upward until she can feel the warmth of his face near hers. "Closer."

"Closer?" Zuko doesn't know where he found the boldness, but he lifts both of his hands to cup her face, bringing her forward still. He wonders if she knows how intently he's staring at her mouth - it's slightly parted with wonder as her opaque irises strain to see. Her breath suddenly catches in her throat, and she brings her fingertips to brush them over his eyelids.

She's almost whispering when she says, "...You have really pretty eyes." The vibrant, golden hue is hardly discernible to her through the dim fog of her vision, but it's enough for her to know it's a color she's never seen before. And as her fingers drag over his cheekbones, feeling the waxy disfigurement on one side, she asks, "Is… is that your scar?" Instead of speaking, Zuko simply nods. So she says, "...It feels beautiful."

Moments later, they find themselves so close that their noses are skimming across one another's, and neither of them are sure which of them it was who closed the space between them. Maybe it was both of them; it hardly mattered. "Hey, Toph?" Zuko's voice is low and hoarse.

"Yeah?" She says, smoothing the tips of her fingers along his jawline while he begins pulling out the pins that have been holding her hair in place. One by one, long locks of onyx tumble over her shoulders, inviting Zuko's hands to sift through them.

"I like you."

Relief washes over her like rushing water; while Zuko's feelings for her had hardly seemed to be a secret, hearing him say it evokes a grateful sigh. She breathes, "I like you, too."

"I like you a lot."

"Well, I like you more." Her tone is light and stubborn.

Zuko jokes, "You know, I'll fight you over this."

"Bring it on. I'll win."

"Oh, really?"

"Really."

Just before their lips finally meet, Zuko is wondering if this will be Toph's first kiss, and Toph is wondering how many times Zuko has done this before. When it happens, the contact is soft, careful, and delicate, and Toph lets out a tiny whimper of surprise - this is, in fact, her first kiss, and it's quite lovelier than she'd thought it would be. They're not exactly 'making out' - their mouths stay mostly closed - but they've far surpassed the boundaries of a platonic peck. Zuko's lips are soft and warm against hers, and he tastes faintly of cinnamon flavored gum and tobacco.

Zuko has never held a girl so small before; he feels enormous around her, encircling her whole tiny frame with his, kissing her like she's made of gossamer. He knows she's hardly delicate or frail, but there's something exquisitely and uniquely intimate, he thinks, about touching and being touched by a girl who 'sees' with her hands.

The music has come to a final cadence on a high, sweet chord, and now they sit in near silence - the hum of dim lights, and their own slow, content breaths are the only sounds they can hear. Toph's head is nestled underneath Zuko's chin, and his arms are wrapped about her shoulders.

"Hey, Zuko…" Her voice slips out of the silence, "we're gonna get in so much trouble, aren't we?"

"Most likely."

"Are you gonna get fired?"

"Nah. They can't fire me. My dad might beat me into next Thursday, though. What's gonna happen to you?"

She laughs a little, but it's not a happy laugh. "My parents are gonna freak. I… I don't think they're gonna let me see you again."

"Well," he reasons dubiously, "they don't let you stay out past ten, either, and look where you are now at four-thirty-five in the morning."

"I really did have fun," she tells him. "I'm really glad you… I mean, I'm glad we… I mean, I'm glad."

"Hah, yeah. Yeah, me, too."

"So what happens now?"

"Now?" He ponders aloud, pulling her up to stand. "Now, you tell me where you live so I can take you home."

"Yeah… I guess the sooner I get back, the better, huh?"

…

Toph lives only two blocks up the road; close enough for her to navigate her way to and from the strip mall on her own without too much trouble. But tonight - or this morning, rather - she's walked hand-in-hand with Zuko. They're on her front porch, and inside, the upstairs lights are on.

"I think your parents are up waiting for you," he tells her, and she lets out an anxious sigh.

"They're never gonna let me hear the end of this."

"Probably not," Zuko shrugs. "But like you said. We had fun." But fun hardly begins to sum it all up. They're both smiling the same awkward, delighted smile, and neither of them want to be the first to say goodbye.

"So uh… we'll do this again soon, right?"

"Of course."

"Maybe next time you can show me some more of that dead French guy."

"And you can show me some of those Vienna Teng songs you like so much."

They're still holding hands with fingers entwined, still smiling at each other, still reluctant to part ways. It's Toph who then suggests, "Tell me what to listen to tonight, and I'll go look it up."

"How about," he offers, "Arabesque number one."

"Jeez, that sounds fancy. Makes what I was gonna suggest for you seem lame as hell."

"Lay it on me. I promise I'll like it."

Then lowering her volume to a bashful murmur, she says, "Now Three. It's my favorite song."

"Cool." Zuko is trying to convince himself to bid her goodbye. He can't remember ever feeling so desperate to keep someone near him, and he knows that when he gets home, he'll most likely fall asleep with Now Three on repeat, anxious for the next time they'll see each other.

"So… I guess I should go inside now," Toph says, fumbling around in her pocket for the house key. Just as she reaches for the lock, though, Zuko's hand is tight around her forearm and before she can take in a startled gasp, his mouth is pressed hard against hers as he grips her elbows, driving her backward to press her against the door.

This kiss isn't like the soft, gentleness they'd shared before; rather, it's hungry and urgent, as if they're both trying to get their fill of each other to last them until they can be together again. Toph lets out a tiny noise - she's surprised by Zuko's roughness, but even more surprised at the way her body seems to enjoy it. She kisses him back clumsily at first, but eagerly, and she's feeling her way up his torso and over his collar bones until she's holding his face in her hands as she stands on her toes and pulling him downard to kiss him fuller and deeper.

It's Zuko who, perhaps a full minute later, manages to pull away. They're breathless, ecstatic, and a little dizzy with exhaustion, and he whispers, "Goodnight."

Her shaking voice is barely audible over the breeze. "...Goodnight."

Toph's hands are trembling too madly to fit they key into the lock, so Zuko does it for her. And moments later, she's slipped away inside. As Zuko turns to leave, he can hear her calling out, "Mom? Dad? Please don't be mad…"

…

Zuko hasn't bothered getting dressed after his shower; instead, he's fallen over into bed, still soaking wet with his towel around his waist as music surrounds him from his stereo. All he can think about is Toph's tiny hand upon his scar; how she'd felt the part of his body that he despised the most, and decided it was beautiful. These lyrics, he thinks, will be stuck in his head for the rest of his life.

Love, love, love for one so small
Let it fill up, up, up till I can't see at all
I want to be blind, only my hands to guide me
Bring all of you inside me.

...

Toph hates crying. It's rare that she ever does anymore, but something about the juxtaposition of tonights events - one of the greatest days of her life, followed swiftly by a heated argument at home that had deteriorated into a shouting match and promises of punishments - sends her tipping over the precipice of her emotions. Her tears are silent, though; when she does cry, she never gives anyone the satisfaction of knowing she's hurt.

She's curled up in bed, pressing her headphones firmly over her ears. Her parents always liked classical music, and for that reason, she'd always hated it - Beethoven, Mozart, Haydn, she couldn't stand any of them. But this music is different. Swooning piano flourishes and delicate melodies are calming her overwhelmed senses. As she's lulled gently to sleep, she thinks that this is what falling in love sounds like.