PnF- Cooling off

Summer. The season of heat and high tempers. When the sun turned against The Universe and waged war with it to see which could bring him the most misery.

This time, it seemed the sun was winning.


Sokka scowled as his fur-lined clothes clung to his back, cursing Zuko for deciding to hold this memorial at the height of summer. So what if it was the fifth anniversary of the end of the war? Was it so necessary for him to be sitting here, under the direct blaze of the sun, clad in his full Water Tribe gear? Katara glanced at him from her position at his left; took in his red face. The heat; his fur-lined garments. A snicker escaped. He turned his scowl on her.

“I told you to go with the summer tunic- but nooo. YOU had to look ‘impressive’,” she whispered behind the verbose General Fong’s back.

“I am perfectly fine!” A trail of sweat ran down the side of his face. On his right, Toph grinned.

“Sure you are, Snoozles. That’s why that furry arm you dropped behind me was soaking wet.”

“I am not sweaty!”

Silence. All eyes turned on him. A sheepish grin; a weak wave. “Sorry.”


--



An hour later, Sokka stomped back to his quarters in the palace, still cursing Zuko, when some sixth sense made him pause. His hand went to his side; rested on Space Sword’s engraved hilt. But before he could draw it, the floor yawned open beneath his feet- and he found himself plummeting straight through several floors of Fire Nation palace. Each level opened and closed as he passed, leaving shocked servants and bemused nobles wondering if they’d imagined the gaping holes, falling body and girlish screams. But it was Sokka who got the largest surprise as he fell through palace floors and tunnels- and at last plunged straight into an underground pool.

The weight of his waterlogged clothes dragged him towards the water’s depths; he struggled out of them, allowing them to sink as he headed for the surface. Gasping for air once his head broke through, he looked around in surprise.

Torches flickered on the walls around him, allowing him to see the outline of a diminutive form standing at the water’s edge, waiting. He railed at her as he swam toward shore- only to be silenced as he reached out to her, soaking wet, intent on revenge- and her warm lips moulded over his cold, wet ones. Drawing him out, making him forget the cold, warming him, scrambling his circuits. His arms moved to encircle her- and she pulled away, the torchlight reflecting off the black betrothal necklace she wore.

“I thought that my husband would like a cooling off- but it seems like I’ve caught a waterlogged pirate instead.”

Her laughter rang out as she darted off, evading two grasping arms, leaving a bedraggled Sokka standing on the water’s edge, plotting his revenge.