shatterverse | (no subject)

Steph is trying Very Hard not to giggle. "I haven't put any in the oil, loser. I used to have to service this myself, you know." She hooks an ankle around his leg and grins. "I think the swingarm is loose. Have you been messing around?"

"Yeah, getting the last rock out!" Sokka protests, managing to glare this time. "That one actually took a few hours to find, quit putting them in there! There was a guy that was helping me until I realized I was actually better than he was and should quit letting him touch your stuff."

"...is the swingarm really still loose? I thought I fixed it."

Steph can't stop giggling. "I'll make it up to you," she promises, laughing. "It totally kept you busy for ages, huh? Yeah, it was, a bit. It might be just cos everything's old in here." She hops to her feet and reaches for a rag to wipe her hands, grinning.

"Who was the guy?"

"Dean," Sokka replies, slinking an arm around her waist and pulling her back down to sit beside him while he leans in to work on the bike again. He's grinning, but only a little. "He, uh, he's the one that started helping me out with this ghost stuff, for Katara. He said he might bring a few of his friends up here and help us out."

He should have a bigger grin than that. Steph fits herself neatly into his side and kisses the side of his jaw. This will help! She is sure of it!

"Oh, cool. That's awesome! The more people who actually know about this stuff the better, right?"

The kiss absolutely helps! He grins a bit more about that, leaning in to kiss her jaw right back.

"Yeah, I think so. Um. I guess one of them knows you."

Grins are good. Steph beams up at him, leaning into his side to watch him work on the bike. "Yeah? Who is it?"

Sokka pauses for a second before looking over at her, wary but insistent.

"Rachel."

"Oh." Steph frowns. "... huh."

Toes wriggle against his, unconsciously.

"... okay."

If she can help. Steph'll just ... keep a really, really, really close eye on her.

"I need to know if it's going to be a problem," Sokka says quietly, sliding a hand into hers to link their fingers, head ducked to find her eyes. "Dean doesn't think she'll come, but if she does..."

"I don't like her," Steph admits, "but you knew that. And I don't think she likes me."

This isn't really an answer.

Sokka squeezes her hand.

"That's not what I asked."

Steph squirms a little, feeling slightly like a naughty kid in school.

"... I don't plan to pick a fight with her. Ever. Because I don't know what she'd do. I just ... don't like the idea of her being around" Sokka "the babies."

"The girls?" Sokka straightens and looks at her, worried. "Why? Was there something else that happened, besides the zombie thing?"

Nooo bring back the cuddles D:

"No, but that's enough for me not to trust her." Steph scowls, drawing her knees up to hug them herself. "She kills people."

"She killed people that killed people, she didn't kill helpless children," Sokka points out. He's calming down, but there's still the worry on his face, just at the idea of someone trying to hurt his nieces. "It's not the same, Steph."

"Yeah, I know."

She does. Rachel might be violent and a killer but Steph's sure she does it for a reason.

"I just ... I don't know. I'm sure the babies'll be fine. I just ... I don't trust her."

Sokka pauses - his arm is still around her, still holding her close and protective. "I think... it might be a good idea if we talk about this more. I know what Batman taught you, but if you get like this over what she did, I can't say that I'm not the same kind of person, Steph."

"You're not," Steph says, looking up at him and frowning. "You're not. Don't say that."

"Why don't you like her?" Sokka continues, looking at her seriously. His arm stays around her, protective, yes, but possessive, too. He wants her to think about this but he wants her, too. "Because she killed humans? Magog aren't that different, Steph, they were monsters, but they were sentient monsters."

Steph leans into his side, watching flecks of dust dance in the afternoon sunlight.

"I know you, though." She's frowning. "I know it's different for you."

Sokka swallows hard, laces his fingers with her and drops his gaze to the floor.

"...you mean a lot to me," he says quietly. "A lot. And... I wanna mean that much to you. And I can't if part of the reason why I mean anything to you is because you pretend that a part of me doesn't exist.

"It's there, Steph. I've killed before and I can't promise I won't do it again."

Edited 2008-10-05 07:30 (UTC)

Steph looks at him, dismayed.

"It isn't that -- it isn't," she promises, sitting up, looking at him anxiously. "I'm not -- pretending it doesn't exist, I promise. I -- I know you have, and I know why. I just --"

She trails off, swallowing.

"I just don't understand."

Quiet for a long moment, Sokka leans his head gently against hers.

"...do you want me to tell the whole story?"

"No," Steph says, and then shakes her head to contradict that. "Yes, if you want to tell it. But I know you don't like talking, you don't have to tell me anything, Socks."