(Untitled)

[i_spoiled_it]

Take one small circular expanse of snow.

Surround with ice in shape of small dome.

Fill with preserved food and blankets.

Lower surrounding temperature to dangerous-to-human levels; fill air with swirling vortex of snow.

Now, fill tiny igloo with two teenagers.

Mix.

Comments

[i_spoiled_it]

Stpeh has never seen a snowstorm like this; reading textbooks with lines like "Precipitation is dangerous and severe in coastal areas of Greenland" really didn't do much to explain the sheer fury of the weather.

"So there was this one time all Gotham was covered in snow," she remarks, finally crawling back inside the igloo and replacing the blocks at the end of the tunnel to keep the wind out, turning to grin at Sokka in the darkness. "Totally, totally not as cool as this."

[notanoptimist]

There's a small candle used for light, settled into a shelf carved into one of the blocks of the igloo specifically for that purpose. From that, they can see shadows and planes of light over each other's faces. Sokka grins when Steph crawls back in, lifting one edge of the blanket he's under for her to get back in.

Beneath that blanket, he's fully dressed. Not in parka or boots, but thick pants and leather tunic, fur and animal hide keeping his feet warm. The farm would be stunned to see them now, not all over each other, touching, kissing. It's just-- it doesn't feel right.

Not yet.

"It used to storm like this all the time back in the village," he comments, soft but clear. Sokka's voice is getting stronger, but only very very slowly. "We had bigger igloos, though, and a wall around the whole village, so the wind wasn't so bad."

[i_spoiled_it]

Steph wriggles in with him, her own parka and ski pants making her twice the size she usually is, and tucks the blanket back down around them.

"Way cool," she confirms, leaning against his side close enough to steal his body heat, thoughtful.

He says back in the village, not back home. Maybe he always has, Steph just hadn't paid attention before.

"How old were you? When you left, I mean?"

[notanoptimist]

Sokka smiles a little, pleased at this response. The next set of questions just get a shrug and a small shake of his head. "I don't know. We didn't keep track of that like you guys did. I guess maybe... fourteen, fifteen? Something like that."

[notanoptimist]

It could be morning. It could be the middle of the night. In four months, Sokka's internal clock has given up entirely. He sleeps when he's tired, wakes when he's rested, eats when he's hungry and...

Well.

Whatever time it is, Sokka has a sudden pressing concern. An igloo wasn't exactly made for privacy, though, which means he has to leave the tiny warm little center for the blocked off tunnel and take care of things.

It's not exactly warm there but it's a lot warmer than it is outside.

[i_spoiled_it]

Steph wakes up when her warm human pillow leaves, and grumbles quietly for a second or so.

Until she realises that means she can crawl into his warm spot and spread out there, taking all the blankets for herself.

She does a pretty convincing job of looking asleep when he gets back and finds no room left for him, except she's grinning a little bit.

[notanoptimist]

He sees what you did there.

Frowning a little, fuzzy and half-awake and aware of things that need doing while they're cooped up and unable to go outside, Sokka looks down at the lump of Steph, curled up in the blankets.

He (gently) kicks the nearest lump, which is probably her backside, and tugs on the edge of a blanket.

[i_spoiled_it]

That provokes a giggle, and a yawn and a stretch. "Mmm?"

So innocent. So cheerful, peeking up at him, warm in the folds of the blankets and with the imprint of a blanket red across her face.

[notanoptimist]

Later. The wind still howls outside and the air is crisp just outside the blankets. But beneath, the leather is warm and the furs are soft and Steph and Sokka are curled together.

Sokka wraps his arms around his girlfriend, settling his chin on her shoulder and lacing their fingers together, looking at the blocks of ice in flickering candlelight.

"...when my sister and I were little," he says, soft and casual, as if continuing a conversation, "she used to bring animals home. Like, all the time. Anything. And no warning either, just bam! hut full of penguin chicks."

[i_spoiled_it]

Steph smiles into his skin, curled against him, tired and happy and warm.

She pictures a house full of tiny penguin chicks, and Sokka standing in the middle with one eyebrow high and his hands flung out, and grins sleepily.

"Why? Where'd she get 'em?"

[notanoptimist]

"Just outside the walls. She'd always come back crying, Sokka, he was lost or His mother abandoned him or whatever else. Maybe sometimes it was true, but I think she would have stolen a polarbearcat from it's nest if she had the opportunity."

He nuzzles her temple gently, quiet and comfortable.

[i_spoiled_it]

She smiles, squeezing his hand softly, more because it's there than anything else. Interlinked fingers, arms around each other; yeah, still a storm outside, but that really doesn't bother them.

"What did you do? When she did?"