Author's Note: Welcome to the latest update! Hope you like it!
Marisol knocked on the door of the room with the number Sokka had given her. Glancing around, she pulled self-consciously at the strings of his hoodie that she had worn over a pair of cut off denim shorts and a purple tank top. She felt incredibly under-dressed and unfit to even stand in the hallway of this hotel.
His hotel was much swankier and richer looking than that of hers. Everything was in beige and maroon and gold. There was a chandelier hanging from the ceiling in front of the elevator. The numbers on his door were gold and glimmered as if they had been polished.
When the door opened, she jumped because she was too busy looking around.
"Hi," he greeted her with a big smile.
Seeing he was dressed super casual like her, in shorts and a t-shirt, enabled her to breathe a literal sigh of relief and relax a little.
"Hi there," she returned a little too breathlessly.
However, being around him seemed to put her on edge a little as well, but in a good way. He reminded her she was still alive by making her heart beat faster. The emotions he conjured up inside of her also reminded her that she could still feel those romantic feelings she believed had deserted her for good.
"Come in," he said, turning to the side so she could enter.
Marisol would swear she had walked into an upscale home rather than a hotel suite. There was a full kitchen and dining room to her left and an entire living room to her right. Straight ahead of her were floor to ceiling windows that offered an unobstructed view of the balcony with a fire pit and nicer furniture than she had inside the first apartment she owned.
"I'm so glad you're here," he said, taking her by the wrist to pull her forward.
"Rough day?" she asked as he led her to the balcony.
"Only because I missed you," he told her, tossing her a huge grin over his shoulder.
Blood rushed through her veins flooding her face with heat and color as her runaway heart pounded in her ears.
"I missed you too," she admitted, walking out onto the open air balcony overlooking the beach from the seventh floor.
"Want something to drink?"
"Sure."
"Wine, champagne, beer, water, soda? What do you prefer?"
Marisol watched as he opened the full sized silver refrigerator that was part of an outdoor kitchen with a double sink, counter, cabinets, stove, and grill.
"Wow," she murmured. "This is incredible."
"Oh, wait until you see this," Sokka said, going to a silver panel on the wall beside the refrigerator.
First music began to play after he pressed one of the black buttons. Then a fire leapt to life in the gas fire pit when he pressed another button. After that, a fountain she had previously not seen in the corner of the balcony because of all the big leafy plants surrounding it gurgled to life and colored LED lights under the pool of water began to cycle through a rainbow of colors.
"Oh, my god!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands and glancing around at everything in awe like a kid at a light show. "This is amazing."
"I feel like a freaking king," he admitted, reaching inside the fridge for a frosty bottle of beer. "Want one? They're some kind of special beer from a local microbrewery."
"I'll take one," she said, sitting down on the chaise lounge of the ultra plush outdoor sectional.
Sokka popped the cap off the bottle by placing them against the side of the counter then striking them quickly with the heel of his hand. Marisol refrained from pointing out the bottle cap remover screwed into the space between two of the cabinets as he knocked off the second cap. Besides, the way he did it was much more interesting.
A smile automatically stretched her lips when he came to sit beside her. She hoped she did not have too stupid of a grin on her face when he nudged her over with his hip to sit right next to her on the seat wide enough for two.
"There's a TV too if you want to watch a movie," he said, directing her attention to wall over the sink and counter area.
"Not right now," she returned, leaning forward and turning into him after he put his arm around her shoulders.
"So what did you do all day to keep from missing me so terribly?" Sokka asked her, sliding her a crooked grin.
She adored his mock arrogance.
"Well, I took an early morning swim. Met my friend for breakfast before she had to be at the gallery for the sale. After that -"
"Did you two talk about me?" he broke in, wagging his eyebrows at her.
"Of course we did," she replied honestly, quickly adding, "But it was all good."
"Naturally." He popped an invisible collar and squared his shoulders while looking very pleased with himself.
"And after that," she chuckled lightly, continuing listing her activities, "I did a little shopping. I had lunch by myself at this great little bistro by the beach."
"You had to eat lunch by yourself? Oh, that's sad," he interrupted her.
"It was," she agreed, taking a sip of the beer that tasted oddly like and orange flavored bread. "This is actually pretty good. We really should go there and have lunch together."
"This is a good beer," he concurred. "We should go there tomorrow. What did you do after lunch?"
Him telling her they would be going out on another date was not lost in the middle of his random conversation. She liked that he already knew what her answer would be and did not bother to ask.
"Is listening to everything I did really that interesting?"
"No, not really," he admitted bluntly, "but I want to hear about your day because it's your day. I want to hear your voice. I want to know everything about you...even the boring every day things."
"I read a little, then I took a nap then got ready to come here to see you."
"And now you have reached the best part of your day," he chuckled to offset sounding egotistical which barely worked.
"I have," she confirmed being in total agreement with him. She had kept herself busy and distracted all day in order to make it to this point without going crazy. She refused to think about how much she would miss him when they had to go back to their 'normal' lives.
"Are you hungry?" Sokka asked, sitting up.
"A little, but - " She pressed her hand against his chest to push him back down. "Not yet. Just sit here and relax for a minute."
"Okay. If you insist," he murmured, putting his arm back around her.
For several long minutes, they sat together watching the summer evening sky turn from orange to red as the sun lowered. They sipped their beers in silence observing the ever darkening sky, content to be close to each other. Their hearts touched in a way that transcended words making conversation unnecessary. It brought them both a sense of tranquility and comfort neither had felt in quite a while.
As the last piece of the red ball of the sun sank into the ocean, Sokka moved away from her slowly. He went to the cabinet and pulled out what appeared to be tuning forks with extra long handles. Then he went to refrigerator.
"What are those for?" she asked, unable to maintain her curiosity.
"So what goes better with roasted hot dogs and s'mores? Red wine or white wine?" he inquired, holding up a bottle of each.
"Oh, no way!" she shrieked with laughter.
"What?" The wide grin started melting off of his face. "You think it's a stupid idea, don't you?"
"What? No!" she exclaimed, hopping up to run to him. She threw her arms around him to give him a big hug. "I think it's a great idea. But I think beer would be best. The orange will be great with the chocolate."
"Ah, that makes sense," he said, returning the wine to the fridge. "Here, take this."
Marisol took the beers from him along with the chocolate bars and marshmallows. Sokka brought the package of hot dogs, box of graham crackers, and hot dog roasting sticks with him. They sat down on the part of the couch closest to the fire pit.
"I haven't done this since the last time I went camping," she murmured, opening a chocolate bar while he skewered the hot dogs.
"This is camping in style," he said, extending the sticks toward the flames in the fire pit. "When was the last time you went camping?"
"Uhm...well, ah..." She hesitated because the last time she went camping was a very special date when she received her engagement ring. "It was four years ago."
"Your husband?" He popped off the beer caps and handed her a bottle.
"He was my boyfriend at that time. He proposed to me while we were star gazing," she said, breaking off a rectangle of chocolate to put in her mouth.
Marisol extended a piece to him. He opened his mouth since both hands were occupied with the roasting sticks. She carefully lay the piece of chocolate on his tongue. Before she could remove her fingers completely, his mouth enclosed her forefinger. Every muscle in her body contracted at once, and an electrical tingle sizzled across thousands of nerve endings over her entire body.
Guilt washed over her like a tidal wave. She had no right to be feeling so giddy and excited about another man when reminiscing about her dead husband. It was just wrong, and she felt sick.
"Sounds romantic," he murmured, turning the sticks.
"It was," she sighed, opening the marshmallows. "We were married a year later."
"What was his name?"
"Baki. His name means eternal. Eternal indeed," she scoffed bitterly. "He died before his twenty fifth birthday."
"I'm sorry," he apologized.
Hearing those words over and over at the funeral had turned her stomach. However, presently, hearing them from Sokka actually calmed her, making the guilt ebb away like a wave retreating from shore. She should not be feeling bad for being interested in another man. Baki himself had told her not to allow his death to shutter her heart and be alone for the rest of her life. His cancer was no one's fault, and she should not punish herself for the rest of her life because he died.
Marisol paused the conversation long enough to drink the rest of her beer. Sokka's hard, muscular shoulder pressed into her arm signalling her it was okay for her to lean on him bother physically and emotionally. Her head dropped onto the round outer part of his shoulder to take him up on that invitation.
The words began to tumble out of her mouth as if he had opened a floodgate. She had not been able to speak about Baki in quite a while. She still loved Baki and missed him but also knew she needed to move on.
"A week after our first anniversary he received the diagnosis of stage four pancreatic cancer. He died the day after our second anniversary. He said it was his goal to at least make it to our second anniversary. That was a a year ago. Seems like I am being forced to live my life twelve months at a time. I can't seem to see beyond a year anymore. Sometimes it's difficult to see the next day."
"I know how you feel," he rejoined, pushing his shoulder into her since he could not embrace her.
Marisol had no doubt he actually did know exactly how she felt. Her chest ached because her mind inadvertently dredged up the pain that never seemed to go away but did decrease enough for her to ignore it completely on occasion. At the moment, it had risen to the forefront and threatened to send tears spilling down her cheeks.
"Were you married to Yue?" she asked in a low, gentle voice.
"No. I never got the chance to propose," Sokka replied. "I had stopped by the jewelers to pick up the ring. I was running late to meet her at the restaurant. When I arrived, she was lying on the sidewalk outside bleeding to death. A guy stabbed her to steal her purse. No one saw anything. A restaurant full of people and a street full of cars but no one saw a damn thing. They let her lay there...bleeding. I held her as she died with a crowd of people standing around, just watching."
"Oh, my god," she murmured. "I'm so sorry. That's horrible."
"They caught the guy when he assaulted another woman. While in jail waiting to go before a judge, Karma bit him in the ass hard. He was stabbed by his cellmate and bled out in his bunk. Poetic justice at its finest. But..." He stopped, inhaling a deep, shaky breath. "But it didn't stop the pain."
Sokka ceased speaking to take the hot dogs away from the fire. He propped the sticks against the side of the fire pit.
Marisol leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his arm and pressing her cheek into his bicep. His skin felt warm and smooth under her cheek. They way his bicep flexed ever so slightly it was like he stroked her cheek.
"For over a year after her death I would wake up in the middle of the night feeling like I couldn't breathe," he said, staring into the flames and massaging his chest over his heart. "If only I hadn't been late...I could have saved her."
Or you could have been killed too, Marisol thought but did not say a word. There was nothing she could say to take away the dagger in his heart placed there by his regrets and grief.
"The guilt was unbearable. I had this crushing weight in my chest," he said, pressing his hand to heart. "So many times I wanted to die. I just wanted to die so I could be with her again. Did you ever have those thoughts?"
"Yeah," she croaked. "Even recently I had those thoughts...when I visited his grave."
"I'm so sorry to hear that," he said, placing his hand on top of hers that rested on his forearm. His eyes caught hers when she tilted her head to look up at him. "But I'm glad you're still alive...and here with me."
Tears covering her eyeballs made his visage waver and blur. When Sokka inclined his head toward hers, her eyes closed which squeezed out the tears to send them streaking down her cheeks. Her heavy heart lightened when his soft lips pressed to hers. His mouth lingered there, the pressure light.
His kiss was meant to be an apology. The night was not supposed to go this way. They were supposed to have light-hearted fun with lots of laughing and possibly a conversation about future plans. This heart rending discussion calling up ghosts of traumatic emotions past should not have occurred. Neither one of them meant to revisit perhaps the most painful event to ever happen to them.
Marisol inhaled sharply when his mouth moved lightly over hers, sliding slightly off center to catch her lower lip between his. As his mouth lifted from hers, she slowly opened her eyes allowing his face to come into focus. The sclera of his eyes were blood shot due to the tears he refused to let fall.
"This isn't what I had planned for our date," he murmured.
"It's okay. I guess we needed to talk about them. We're both feeling a lot of things right now," she said, her voice barely above a whisper as his lips continued to hover near hers.
"What are you feeling?" Sokka questioned her, his eyes lowering to her mouth.
"Happy...sad...guilty...ecstatic...a lot of things," she repeated, swallowing to push down the lump in her throat.
"Me too," he rejoined, closing the small gap between their mouths for a brief kiss. "What else are you feeling?"
"Sokka," she sighed, placing her hand on his cheek as he delved into her eyes to search for the answer to his question. "I can't...you can't...we shouldn't..."
"Why not?"
His eyes switched back and forth between hers. He appeared baffled and hurt by her reticence.
"You're such an unexpected and wonderful surprise," she said, her thumb stroking his cheek. "It's not that I don't want to give in to these feelings, but..."
"Are you scared?"
"Terrified."
"Me too. Trust me," he said, taking her face between both of his hands. "I am feeling all the same things you are feeling."
"I know, but - "
Sokka kissed her to prevent her from arguing. Marisol was glad he would not allow her to talk either one of them out of the feelings they were beginning to develop for each other.
"Now," Sokka murmured, reluctantly taking his hands away from her and sitting up straight. "We have hot dogs to eat and s'mores to make."
Marisol smiled at him, giving him the bag of marshmallows. "Want another beer?"
"Yeah. That would be great."
She got up to go to the fridge.
"So what's the plan for tomorrow?" she asked to take the conversation in a completely different and more positive direction.
"I want to paint you remember? I can't think of a better way to spend the day than staring at you," he replied, grinning broadly at her.
She blushed hotly which made her glad her back was to him. " I suppose if that's something you really want to do, we can do that."
Marisol smiled, thrilled with the prospect of spending another day with him. She also liked the idea of having his complete and undivided attention. Her entire body tingling from the surge of happiness.
She used the bottle opener on the cabinet to remove the caps from the beer bottles. When she returned to Sokka, she bent down to kiss his forehead before handing him the beer.
"You're sweet. I like you a lot," she admitted, unwilling to say the big four letter word yet.
"Right back at ya, babe." Sokka pointed an index finger at her bending his thumb and pretending to shoot a gun while giving her a wink.
"Dork," she muttered, rolling her eyes.
His mouth stretched into an impossibly huge grin as if he was proud of himself. She was not sure which was more charming: his absolute dorkiness or his unapologetic awareness of his terminal dorkiness.
"What kind of books do you read?" he inquired, smashing the nicely browned marshmallow between the two graham crackers laden with chocolate.
Marisol crammed the last bite of hot dog into her mouth before taking the ooey gooey treat from him.
"I read all kinds of books. Mystery, horror, romance...but not the annoying ones where she hates him, he hates her, then suddenly they're in bed and in love with each other. Do you like to read?"
"Sometimes. Cereal boxes mostly. The kid's cereals are the best because they have fun little games. Oooh!" he exclaimed, taking a sip of his beer. "And sometimes they have prizes in the box! Those are the best!"
Marisol giggled. She had no doubt he was being sincere. She would have to admit she enjoyed indulging in a bit of sugary crunchy goodness that can only come from a cereal with a cartoon mascot on the front of the box.
"My compliments to chef," she said after taking a bite of the s'more.
"Thank you. I do my best. Want another one?"
"Yes, please. But it can wait. You should eat something first."
"If you insist."
Marisol stood up, beer in hand, to go stand at the ornate metal railing to enjoy the view. The stars had come out and dotted the blue velvet sky. There were so many more stars that she could not see because the lights down below here blocked them out. Sometimes the hardest things to see are those right in front of ones faces because something else overshadowed them. She would do her best not to allow her fear to eclipse her desire to love again.
Turning around, she gazed at the man sitting on the couch scarfing down hot dogs and s'mores. She found herself smiling for no other reason than the mere sight of him made her happy.
How long will he make you happy? How long will it really last? When will something happen? When will the pain come...for one reason or another?, the nagging little voice of doubt hammered at her relentlessly.
There was also another voice in her head. The one who spoke from another place, one that was deeper, more determined, and willing to attempt to love again. SHUT UP! He's a great guy and just as hurt and scared as I am! If not more so.
Although she only had five years in total with Baki, they were five of the happiest years of her life. She might only have four days with this man, but they could be four days of joy and love, a respite from the mourning that could not - and should not - last forever.
"What are you thinking about?" Sokka asked, breaking into her thoughts.
"You," she admitted candidly despite her stomach turning somersaults of apprehension.
"Oh?" He stood up to come stand in front of her. "What were you thinking?"
"About how nice it would be to fall in love with you," she answered honestly.
"Really?" He gazed down at her, his blue eyes taking a hazy, dreamy appearance - or was that simply how she was suddenly seeing him through her own love-struck eyes?
"Really," Marisol confirmed, placing her hands flat against his chest. "I'd rather love you for the next four days rather than not feeling anything at all."
"Who says it has to end after four days?"
"How would we possibly continue?"
"I don't know. And honestly, at the moment, I don't care. I just want to be with you right here, right now. That's all I know at this given moment and that's all that matters."
Rather than kissing her, Sokka enveloped her with his arms, pulling her into his chest to hold her securely in a bear hug. His show of affection was so satisfying, so soothing, her sorrow disappeared. Closing her eyes, she pressed her cheek against his heart.
"You have the greatest hugs," she mumbled, her face buried in his shirt.
"I'm glad you think so because I like having you in my arms," he returned, nuzzling into her hair. "I don't want to let you go."
"Then don't. Not yet."
Sokka's body began to rock back and forth, swaying her to the slow rhythm of song presently playing through the speakers hidden somewhere on the balcony. His right hand drifted up back, coming to rest on her shoulder blade. His left hand reached for hers in between their chests. After firmly clasping it, he extended their arms to dance with her.
Marisol placed her other hand on his arm just below his shoulder as he led her in a simple box step waltz matching the tempo of the music. She smiled up at him as they danced around the balcony. He gently turned her into each successive step, expertly leading her through each maneuver.
"You are a man of many surprising talents," she complimented him.
"Shhh!" he hissed at her, faltering a little. "I'm counting. You'll throw off my steps."
She shook her head and chuckled.
"You're doing great," she cheered him on. "How do you know how to ballroom dance?"
"I only know this one step. I had started taking dance lessons when I decided to ask Yue to marry me. I was learning so I could dance our first dance as a married couple without looking like a newborn baby fawn," he said, his feet coming to a halt.
"Oh, Sokka," she sniffled, her tears restarting. She could almost feel her heart breaking for him.
"I'm sorry," he apologized, taking her face between his hands to tilt her face upward. "I shouldn't have mentioned her again."
"I don't mind you talking about her. She was someone very important to you. She was the woman you loved and wanted to spend the rest of your life with. You'll never forget her." Her words caught in her throat to be overtaken by a shuddering sob. "I just...I just hate that she was taken away from you in such a violent and terrible manner."
"It couldn't have been much better for you. Watching your husband deteriorate day by day, fading away right in front of you. You can't prepare yourself for losing a loved one even you know it's inevitable."
"You're right about that."
Sokka wiped away her tears with his thumbs. She could feel his eyes on her face but avoided meeting his intense gaze. Her entire body began to shake. A tightness formed in her chest and she could not breathe well. Fear ran its icy fingers down her spine making her want to run away.
"I should go," she said, trying to back away from him but he would not remove his hands from her face.
He kissed her temple, lowering his mouth close to her ear. "Stay with me. Please don't go."
Her first impulse was to say she could not stay and run for the door. Opening her eyes, they were immediately captured by his blue ones that captivated her from the first time she saw him.
"Dance with me under the moonlight," he requested, taking her hand in his.
Marisol glanced over to see the moon against the backdrop of the night sky. The full moon was waning, a sliver missing as it began its gradual disappearance in its constant cycle.
"Let's howl," she said, her eyes returning to his.
"What?" he chuckled in disbelief, sure he had heard her wrong.
"Let's howl at the moon," she suggested, sliding her hand out of his. She went to the balcony, gripping the thin metal bar at the top. "We should pour out the pain in our hearts to make room."
"Make room for what?" he asked, standing beside her with his arm around her waist.
"Love," she replied, daring to turn her face up to him. She smiled to see the shell shocked expression on his face. "The love that we want to give and receive. I don't want to be afraid anymore. Especially not of you."
He smiled, his sparkling white teeth almost glowing in contrast to his bronzed skin in the dim light. "Okay. Let's do it then."
They turned their faces to the moon, inhaling deep breaths. Through pursed lips, they unleashed throaty howls, his deep and hers much higher pitches, pushing the grief all the way from their gut. When their breath gave out, she dissolved into elated giggles as he grinned down at her.
"That felt really good," Sokka panted lightly. "Want to do it again?"
"Yeah. Let's do," she eagerly agreed.
By the end of the second howl they were both laughing. Laughing at themselves and each other. Laughing because it was better than crying. Laughing because it felt good.
"How do you feel?" she asked, breathless and her face flushed.
"Great!" he enthusiastically replied.
A loud banging on the outer door interrupted them. They stared at each other with shock widened eyes.
"Uh oh," he whispered. "I think we're in trouble."
Marisol snorted in an effort to withhold her laughter.
Sokka went to the door, holding on to Marisol's hand to pull her with him. If they were in trouble, he was not going alone. He opened the door to see a less than thrilled manager standing there.
"Sir, we've received complaints," the man said.
"Sorry about that," Sokka apologized before he could say more. "My girlfriend and I got a little carried away on the balcony."
Girlfriend? Did he really just say that?, was all she could think not caring one bit the manager eyeballed her disapprovingly with a raised eyebrow.
"I'm sorry, Sir. It won't happen again," he assured the man. "Good night."
Sokka slammed the door in the man's face and leaned against it. Another fit of laughter overtook him for no real reason, and she joined him.
"Girlfriend?" Marisol questioned him, following him to the living room.
"I didn't know what else to call you," he answered, rubbing the back of his head self consciously as the tops of his cheeks darkened. "You didn't mind. Did you?"
She plopped down on the beige micro-suede couch. She sighed, staring at the white decorated ceramic tiles on the ceiling. "I didn't mind at all. I rather liked the sound of it."
"You did huh?" He sank into the couch beside her, propping his elbow on the back as he sat sideways so he could look at her. "We might have to find a way to make this thing work."
"What thing?" Turning her head, she chewed her lower lip as her eyes fell on his face.
"Us, silly." He leaned toward her.
"Oh...us." Her eyes drifted closed as his mouth touched hers.
Sokka gathered her into his arms, holding her as they lapsed into silence. Soon they were asleep in each other's arms
Author's Note: A quick note about my choice for the OC's husband's name. I chose Baki because it means eternal in Arabic. It also means blade or fang in Japanese as well which is also oddly fitting: blade because his death cut her deep and fang because of the whole wolf motif. I always choose names for OCs with a specific meaning behind them. Picking this name has nothing to do with the character or the anime Baki.
I also changed the circumstances of Yue's death to fit the modernization of the fic.