Title/Prompt: The Way You Keep the World
Rating/Warnings: G
Word count: 2120
Summary: It's not all saving the planet - sometimes it's just about being home.

Notes: Written for missgoldy for Yuletide 2019.

(Happy Yuletide! Christmas is all about family (the one you're born with or the one you find, or both!) so I wanted to write you something a little fluffy and show the Planeteers how I think they might be in their down time, when they get a chance to relax and just enjoy each other's company. :)

I also loved that the first thing on your list of likes was "I enjoy reading everyday interactions between characters and hidden snapshots" so I hope this fits!)

Gi lifts the hatch on the geo-cruiser and the cabin is flooded with a rush of cool salt wind. They all give a sigh of appreciation. It's as if the sight of Hope Island's crystal peaks and the familiarity of the green jungle canopy isn't real; as if the landing gear touching down on the sand isn't enough to confirm yet that they're home. They have to wait for that first taste of the air.

Ma-Ti glances across to Linka, but she's not looking. He dog-ears the page of the novel he's been reading before he tucks it into his backpack. He's tried bookmarks, he really has. He just keeps losing them. Memorize the page number! Linka says to him whenever she sees him do it, looking almost like she's in physical pain at the thought of creasing the pages.

"You awake lil' buddy?" Wheeler asks from somewhere behind him.

Ma-Ti jumps to his feet. "Yes, coming."

They walk from the landing pad together, Gi limping a little, Kwame tenderly prodding at a bruise he can feel on his chin. The sun is setting, the golden light stretching their shadows long and making the trees look lime green.

"Dinner time," Wheeler declares happily, rubbing his stomach. "What are we havin'?"

"I could eat a horse," Ma-Ti groans.

"I think we're fresh out of horse," Gi says, looking at him over her shoulder with a grin. "We should see what the greenhouses have, I don't think we've had time to do a proper grocery run in a while."

Kwame adds a trip for groceries to his mental list of things to accomplish tomorrow. If they get time. They've been so busy lately that Hope Island has started to feel like a luxury rather than feel like home.

He's first through the door of the main hut, where the living area and the kitchen are. He touches his hand against the doorframe, knowing the others will do the same. It's a little ritual which has left the wood shiny and smooth in one place, a physical thing to say Here I am, I'm home.

"Do you need a hand?" Gi asks, following him into the kitchen.

"No," Kwame says. "You should elevate that ankle, Gi."

"It's fine," she says dismissively.

He pushes through the back door, propping it open so the air can flow into the kitchen, which is always too hot, the afternoon sun hitting the big window over the sink. The gardens smell rich and earthy, and he breathes in for a moment, making another mental list — tomatoes, zucchini, eggplant, carrots, bell peppers, hot peppers.

It doesn't matter what time of year it is, everything seems to grow and grow and grow. He thinks it's Gaia, but the other Planeteers insist it's him. He wanders into the garden, hands reaching and picking and squeezing the ripe crops.

Wheeler kicks his shoes off in the middle of the living room and wanders towards the kitchen. He hears a rush of cold air and looks back to see Linka sending his sneakers tumbling across the floor to the wall, where they come to rest in a hopeless tangle of shoelaces.

"You did that on purpose!" he says in dismay.

"Just like you did, leaving them there for me to trip over," she retorts. "How many times before you learn, Yankee?" She blinks at him and gestures at her brow. "You are bleeding again."

Wheeler swipes at his hairline and feels fresh, wet blood on his fingertips. "God damn it."

"I will clean it for you," she says, like the sight of his injury has suddenly made her feel guilty about tangling his shoelaces.

"Nah, it's just a scratch. Just pass me a tissue," he says.

She tuts and points at the kitchen table, and he sighs and sits down as she fetches the first aid kit.

Gi is in the kitchen, rummaging through the refrigerator. "Something in here stinks," she complains. "We've been away too long, half of this stuff is spoiled."

"Go and sit down," Ma-Ti says, gently nudging her out of the way. "Elevate your ankle."

"It's fine," she insists.

"Then why are you limping?" He passes her an ice pack from the freezer and grins at her. She gives in with a sigh and limps to the table to sit opposite Wheeler, propping her ankle up on his knee.

Linka has the first aid kit out.

"No, don't use that stuff, that stuff stings," Wheeler complains, watching her soak a cotton ball.

"Do not be such a baby," she says, but she's gentle when she starts prodding at the scratch on his face.

Wheeler makes a face at Gi and she grins at him. She passes him the ice pack and he places it against her ankle, his hand wrapped around her foot. He gives her a gentle squeeze.

"Does it feel swollen?" she asks.

"Can't tell. Give me your other foot."

She lifts her right foot into his lap and he tickles her so she jumps and bangs her knee on the bottom of the table. "Ow!" she laughs. "You jerk, stop it."

"Ow!" he complains, leaning away from Linka, who gives him a look of innocence.

"Jeez," he says, looking reluctant to lean back again.

Linka glances at Gi with a smile, and Gi places her foot back on Wheeler's knee. He doesn't tickle this time, just prods her ankle a bit and then wraps his palm around it again like a brace, like a little touch of comfort and security.

Kwame comes in from the gardens with a string bag loaded with vegetables. He steps around Ma-Ti, who is still busy pulling things out of the refrigerator, every now and then making a noise of fascination or repulsion.

"Curry?" Kwame asks, and they all make noises of happy agreement.

"I'll help," Gi says, unable to sit still, but Wheeler keeps a firm hold on her ankle.

"Sit," he says.

"Da, sit," Linka agrees. "I can help." She steps away from Wheeler. "You are all cleaned up, Yankee."

"Thank you, nurse," he says solemnly.

Linka puts away the first aid kit and washes her hands. "What can I do?" she asks, and Kwame passes her a chopping board and a couple of eggplants.

She brings out one of Wheeler's often-used kitchen phrases. "Dice or slice?"

"Dice please," he says, looking amused at her using the phrase.

"Kwame man, will you let one of us taste this before you add the hot peppers in this time?" Wheeler asks. "I like a little fire as much as the next guy, but —"

"Yes, yes, lesson learned," Kwame says, holding up his hands in surrender.

He and Linka stand side by side at the counter, their knives falling into a steady rhythm of chop, chop, chop. Ma-Ti swings the refrigerator closed and staggers to his feet with an armload of spoiled fruit and vegetables. He takes it out back to the compost heap.

Kwame and Linka chop up eggplants, tomatoes, peppers, zucchinis. Linka cries when she starts to chop an onion and Kwame laughs and takes over for her. The kitchen heats up when the stove is on, and every last window is opened to the breeze coming in off the sea. The air is heavy with the scent of spices and rich tomato.

"Taste test?" Kwame asks Linka.

"No," Wheeler calls from where he's still seated at the kitchen table with Gi. "Everything is too spicy for Linka, we won't get a proper read on it. Get Ma-Ti to do it."

Kwame holds out his spatula and Ma-Ti cautiously takes a bite of the curry. Wheeler and Gi both start laughing, not at Ma-Ti but of the memory of the time Kwame added too many hot peppers and it was so spicy nobody could eat it.

Ma-Ti coughs. "It's good."

They all laugh, and Kwame covers the curry to let it simmer.

They all sit at the table, content to chat while the curry cooks. Wheeler drapes his arm along the back of Linka's chair and she leans her head back against the crook of his elbow. Ma-Ti lays his book flat on the table and props his chin in his hand, losing himself in Dash Raymond's troubles. Gi touches the bruise on Kwame's chin and shows him the old one yellowing on her upper arm.

"I hope tomorrow is quiet," Linka says. "I would like to spend more than a few hours at home."

"Me too," Gi agrees tiredly. "I have a mountain of laundry to do."

"You can wear the same shirt twice, you know," Wheeler says.

"I can," she says. "Some of us shouldn't, though."

Linka laughs and Wheeler lifts the collar of his t-shirt to his nose and takes a whiff. "Whatever," he says. "Not doing laundry means I save water."

"Yes, I'm sure that the planet is your first thought, and it's not just laziness," Gi says, but she grins at him and nudges him affectionately with her foot. Then, never able to sit still for too long, she gets up to stir the curry.

"Gi," Kwame says in exasperation, just as Linka tells her to "Leave it, leave it, it is okay, Gi!"

"Sit down, please," Kwame adds.

"It's fine, I'm not even limping anymore," Gi says dismissively, limping over to the stove. She stirs the curry and hums in appreciation. "Do we have cilantro?"

Wheeler makes a retching noise.

"There is a lot of it," Kwame says. "I'll get it."

"I'll get it," Gi says, limping for the door, but Kwame's long legs overtake her and he turns her around and steers her back to the table. He disappears into the garden again.

"We should eat outside," Linka says. "It is too hot in here."

When the curry is ready they take their plates out to the lawn which rolls down to meet the sea. The face the beach, watching the tide turning, the water starting to reach higher and higher on the sand. The sky is pink and gold and cloudless, and tropical birds flit and dart for the blooming flowers and Linka's bird feeders.

"So who's next?" Wheeler asks around a mouthful of food. "Sludge today so he's out. We haven't seen Blight in a while."

"Da, she is up to something," Linka says darkly. She puts her empty plate aside and stretches herself out on the grass beside Wheeler.

He tucks a stray blond hair behind her ear and then leaves her alone before she can swat at him or grow defensive.

"I think it will be Plunder," Kwame says, and Gi agrees and lays her bet on Plunder as well.

"Greedly," Ma-Ti guesses. "But I am hopeful not for a few days. It's nice to be home." He sets his plate aside and takes out his book again.

"Ma-Ti, where is the bookmark I gave you?" Linka asks in dismay.

"I don't know," he says guiltily. "But these books are old, Linka, they already have so many creases —"

"All the more reason to be more careful!" Linka says.

"Very peaceful, being home," Gi says with a grin, and Linka bites off her next argument and lies back in the grass.

Wheeler touches her hair again and when she glances at him, the hot gleam of disagreement still in her green eyes, he grins at her. He watches a flash of thought cross her face — does she still want a fight? — but it disappears, and then she offers him a small smile in return, and turns her face back to the sunset.

Baby steps, he thinks to himself, though he wants to crow with victory.

"If there is no mission tomorrow," Kwame says, "we should make a trip for groceries. We are running low on a lot of pantry items. And the geo-cruiser could use a tune-up. And —"

"Kwame," Gi pleads, "we can think about all of that tomorrow."

He concedes with silence.

They sit in their rough semi-circle — Linka and Wheeler, his finger daringly twirling a lock of her hair. Ma-Ti, on his stomach, his nose still in his book, attention only diverted when one of the tropical birds darts particularly close. Gi, her ankle propped up on Kwame's thigh.

"What are you smiling at?" Gi asks him.

He shrugs. "The curry was not spicy enough."

Their laughter causes the birds to fly away in alarm, their silhouettes dark against the pink sky.

Tomorrow might bring another mission. Tomorrow might bring Blight, or Plunder, or Sludge. More bruises, more sprains, more jet lag and exhaustion. But right now they're home, and happy, and the possibilities and responsibilities of the future can be forgotten for a few hours.

They're home.