Requested by joebob
Somo--Sokka x Momo
Thunder crashes from outside like a thousand giants stomping in the clouds. Wind slaps freezing rain against the thin fabric of my tent, pounding, beating, sloshing. I burrow further into my sleeping bag against the intense chill, warmed only by a sudden white-hot flash of light. Seconds later, the thunder comes again.
Sokka the warrior. Sokka the brave warrior. Sokka the brave, valiant warrior. Sokka the brave, valiant, handsome warrior. Despite the fear, I smile. Repeating a phrase in my head used to help me all the time when I was a little boy, and has yet to fail. Slowly the terror fades away, into nonexistence, into darkness. My fast beating heart calms; my breathing steadies. That is, until the next flash of lightning illuminates the sky. A streak of white darts between open flaps of canvas, scampers to my head, nestles into my hair. It, whatever it is, screeches in my ear.
I scream.
The monster falls as I leap up and grab my club. One, two, three swings, all misses. It effortlessly jumps over the weapon on the fourth blow, unscathed. A tiny head with giant ears head cocks curiously to the side. The beast is watching, waiting, preparing to attack. My fingers tighten dangerously around the grip of the club; my eyes never leave this other pair, this bright, innocent pair. Why isn't it moving? This must be a trick. It must know what I'm about to do. It's going to--
Tiny wings spread wide as the creature latches itself to my face. Sharpened claws dig into flesh with force enough to kill. Breath, putrid breath, hot and sticky, blows in my nostrils. Poison! And worse, my legs wobble suddenly, then give out with a horrible crack! Why oh why do they choose now to fail me? My arms drop limply to my sides. I follow my club to the ground, defeated. The monster is going to eat me!
Well...when, now? I guess not. Now? No, not now either. Will it hurry up for crying out loud! Now? Yes, now! Wait...no, I'm still alive. I crack one eye uncertainly, wary of whether I'll be staring into the teeth of a murderer or if my attacker has thankfully stalked away. It's not there. Without moving my head, I look cautiously to one side, then the other. Where is it? In that corner? Or that one? Under those piles of blankets?
Something squeaks. My soon-to-be killer.
Oh, it's Momo.
"Ugh, get away!" I shove him off impatiently. "Can't you stupid animal see that I'm about to be eaten?"
Momo says nothing, climbs onto me with sticky wet fur and a ticklish tail that brushes under my nose. I must be going crazy, but I swear he patted my back just now when I sneezed. No matter how many times I shake him away, once, twice, three times, he keeps running back to curl up on my chest. Momo's tails wraps snugly around his tiny body, his face content with this position even though I'm not.
With a sigh, I reach my fingers for a square of scratchy green fabric and towel him dry, then drape the miniature covers over his back. Momo nuzzles me graciously with an air of small triumph. He brings his nose to my cheek in what seems to be a goodnight kiss of some sort before settling down to sleep.
The only reason I let him stay is because the monster must have frightened him too.