[Rabbithole: South Pole, midnight-ish the night of Steph and Sokka's arrival]

[not-purple.livejournal.com]

The baby hiccups and starts to sob, and for a moment, Steph isn't sure where they are. The cold that bites down as she struggles sleepily to a sitting position and tries to comfort the baby one-handed while undoing her leathers with the other is her first clue -- South Pole -- and then the softness of the furs beneath them, rather than the rocky floor of the cave they've spent the week in. Southern Water Tribe.

It's late at night, but they're at Sokka's home. More detail than that can wait until her head isn't so muzzy. The toggles on her clothes are about the limit of her ability right now, with a hungry wailing baby tucked in the other arm.

A hungry, wailing Miki.

This is Steph's happy-face again, sleep-deprived or not.

Comments

[not-purple.livejournal.com]

One of Steph's eyes flickers as the shaft of moonlight from the opening falls over her face, but when it's just Sokka she shuts her eyes again and mumbles something incoherent.

It probably translates as It's bloody cold in here without you, not-yet-but-soon!-husband, get your ass into bed.

[not-goingback.livejournal.com]

Grinning at the supposed translation, Sokka kicks his boots off, slips into the furs, and ignores Steph's whine when cold leather meets her skin.

She won't remember in the morning, anyway, and so long as he doesn't get smacked, it really doesn't matter.