[ShatterTimed back a bit.]

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Sometime before Dean, Jo and Jack left the farm, he spent a lot of time working on the Impala. Baby didn't like the rough country roads, could use some tuning.

Anyone can catch him there, sprawled under the car in the front yard with his feet sticking out and a handful of tools scattered within reach.

Comments

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"Well, uh." Dean rubs the back of his neck. "Depends. We talked th'once or twice."

Then he got the hell outta Dodge.

[notanoptimist.livejournal.com]

Sokka smirks.

"Yeah, well, mine hates me and I'm dating his girlfriend's best friend.

"Welcome to universe-hopping."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

That actually gets an honest laugh out of Dean.

"Dude. That's fucked up too.

"You said y'sister came over with you. She the same as she used t'be?"

Because -- universehopping drove Sam -- something. Slightly nuts. A lot nuts. Tree-blowing-up and rock-melting nuts. It worries Dean.

[notanoptimist.livejournal.com]

"Same like her gender, her personality, or that she remembers everything I do?"

There are distinctions to be made here.

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"Similar," Dean says, leaning back against the car and glaring at the house, "like he's the dude I grew up with, only completely bugfuck nuts."

[notanoptimist.livejournal.com]

Sokka's smile drops.


"...like she's acting like herself if you were describing it to somebody else, but when you actually look at her and listen to what she's saying, it's always wrong."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean stills, and his gaze returns to Sokka, sharp and upset.

And understanding.




"Exactly like that."

[notanoptimist.livejournal.com]

Sokka is perfectly still, eyes on Dean.

Sharp and upset.

"Not Mel. My younger sister. First world we got pulled to."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"... fuck," Dean mutters, turning away and shoving his hands in his pockets, shoulders tense and hunched.

"Not just me, then."

[notanoptimist.livejournal.com]

Sokka's jaw sets.



He doesn't have advice. He barely even has warnings.



"Younger or older?"

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"Younger."

Dean's voice is terse and rough.

"Five years."

Look after your brother.

[notanoptimist.livejournal.com]

Take care of your sister.


"Look after him." Sokka's voice is gruff, ages older than it should be, and he's looking at the car instead of the man he's talking to. "But don't-- if I'd let her go, she would've been killed or worse. I held her back, and she got other people killed.

"Just-- be careful. I don't know what happened, but if it's the same thing, just... just be careful."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean nods once, sharp.






"I gotta get back there."

[notanoptimist.livejournal.com]

Sokka smiles, just a little, and it's barely even an attempt at convincing. It just-- hurts.

A lot.



"Be grateful you can."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean claps a hand on the other man's shoulder for a moment, rough and awkward, and then turns back towards the farmhouse and abandons the car to Sokka.

"Jo? JO! GETCHA ASS OUT HERE, ALREADY, DAMMIT ---"

[notanoptimist.livejournal.com]

Sokka's smile is still tight, still forced, and his fascination with the car is long gone. He hopes Dean gets back to his brother, he hopes he finds a way to help him, he hopes he comes out of this world with his relationship with his brother intact, unharmed, okay.



His eyes drift toward the farmhouse, toward the windows. Specifically, the kitchen window.






...maybe it's not too late for him, too.