alwaysroomforhope | (no subject)

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shatterverse

(no subject)

Someone drove a truck over Steph's head.

No, someone drove a steamroller over her head.

And then filled her mouth with fuzzy, crusty goop. And started breeding little creatures on her teeth. And now they're sitting on her head hammering at her temples with an actual hammer.

Possibly a nailgun.

"aaaaaaaugh."

On the upside, she's in bed, which is a good place to be. Even though it's midday, at least, the way the sun's flooding the room. And it's ...

... wait, it doesn't smell like her bed. It smells like ...

... and she's not wearing pants.

Oh, no.

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And there's Sokka, lying sprawled on the floor with a blanket and a pillow like he'd fallen out of bed.

His bed.

The bed Steph is in.

And she can't remember what happened.

They were in Metropolis!

They were jumping off rooftops!

They were supposed to meet the others at the club, after they broke out of prison, but ... they got there, and ...

... something must have happened. She must have -- but why are they in Kansas? This is definitely the farm, and that's -- definitely Sokka, the bed smells like him, like his shirts, and --

Cue freaking out. A lot of it. Signalled by the way she sits bolt upright, and then falls back down instantly because ouch -- and bangs her head hard on the bedhead when she does so, with a thump and a "Ow! Fuck!" that isn't muffled at all.

Rocketing up when she does, Sokka blinks blearily at Steph, exhausted with dark circles beneath his eyes.

And some serious bedhead.

"Whass'matter?" he mumbles, yawning in the middle of it.

Steph's head, did we mention, is killing her.

And whoever drove the truck just reversed it back over her again.

Which may or may not explain the way she's staring at Sokka with something close to terror, hugging the blanket to her.

(oh god he's so cute with his hair all sticking up and he's -- and she's -- and she doesn't even remember, jesus, what did they do?)

"-- how did -- what did -- did I --"

And then a tiny bit more of last night inches its way into her head and one hand flies to her lips, jaw dropped.

"-- oh God, I kissed you?"

Sokka blinks at her.

And flops back against the blankets, rubbing his face with one hand. He is so not awake enough to deal with disgust right now.

"Yeah," he mumbles, running that same hand through his hair before folding his arms behind his head and looking up at her. "Somebody drugged your drink, but we didn't-- figure it out until later. You don't remember much?"

"No," Steph says, shaking her head until she remembers to stop, so that for a moment she looks like a bobblehead doll. "No, I -- I only remember -- well, kissing you --"

A bright red bobblehead doll.

"We didn't -- we -- did we?"

Oh God. She did, that's why he's looking away, they did and she doesn't remember it.

Way to ruin a dream.

Sokka blinks at her, frowning and sleepy and not understanding.

And then spies her knee, peeking out of his blankets.

It's bare.

...

He goes bright red, just as much as she is, and shakes his head, looking away. "You were drugged, Steph, you passed out, I wouldn't-- I wouldn't."

He should expect her to know that but... well,it's bad enough that she looked so horrified about kissing him.

Steph breathes again, dropping her head to rest on that knee.

"Yeah, but I would've," she mumbles.

"God, I'm sorry. I didn't -- I never meant to tell you all that ..."

She needs a shower. And she really needs to clean her teeth. She tastes like puke.

"... I really need a shower. I kind of stink."

Edited 2008-06-12 00:13 (UTC)

Wordless, Sokka points out the door, in the general direction of the shower. He's sure she remembers, he's just-- confused. Very confused.

Confused enough to look up at her with a frown, brows lifted high.

"...did you mean it?"

Steph blinks at him for a moment, trying to remember. It's terrifying -- she can remember going into the club, going to get a drink, and then things get blurry -- there was some girl dancing with Sokka, Steph half-remembers shoving her away, and teasing him a little, and then there was kissing ...

Her hand traces her lips for a second.

... and then ... and then it's a blank. Nothing. Flat-out nothing until she woke up in his bed.

Physical danger doesn't frighten Steph -- but this does.

And now he's ... looking at her, all bedheaded and ruffled and confused, and ...

... she's taking the coward's way out.

"Shower," she mumbles, red-faced, and grabs up the blanket to wrap around her as she hurries out.

Edited 2008-06-12 00:19 (UTC)

Sokka blinks as she rushes out.

And flops back onto the floor again, hardly even reacting when his spine meets the rock again.

Serves him right for asking.

When he wakes again, it's later in the afternoon, judging by the sunlight. His bed is made neatly, and there's a pot of tea and a stack of toast sitting next to his makeshift bed on the floor, covered with a teatowel to keep heat in. The clothes they were both wearing last night have been washed and dried and folded neatly on their respective beds.

(He must have driven all night, Steph had realised, crouching to adjust the blanket over him, tucking his pillow a little more comfortably beneath his head. With me in the car, acting God knows how. I probably threw up on him. It tastes like I threw up on him.

Dear Diary: this is not my best day ever.)

By the time he wakes up, there is no sign of Steph herself, though. She's ~~hiding in shame~~ busy doing important stuff like flopping on the porch and wishing her head would quit hurting. See, important.

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